Nourishment For My Soul

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul." ~John Muir

I arrived at the parking lot for the trailhead at Bolton Notch on a crisp Saturday morning in mid November. It was approximately 8:30 which was nearly 90 minutes later than I had intended to set out but I really had no other plans that day so the late start was fine. This is the point at which this lovely Rail Trail takes a sharp turn northward for another 4-6 miles (I think) and on into Vernon. I should know this. Is it 4 miles or is it 6 miles? I can’t remember which right now. I do have the Connecticut Walkbook East where I can check on this for sure. I walked west to this place last week from the trailhead on Steeles Crossing Rd and took the side trail up to the cliffs here. I was anxious to continue on from here and had looked forward to this walk all week.

Mine was the only car in the lot. Good! It was 20 degrees but 40 or higher was promised. As always I was dressed in layers which I would peel off along the way. My base layer consisted of a techwick long sleeve crew shirt. (Very thin but it does what it’s supposed to do.) Next, a polar tech fleece vest, then a long sleeve polar tech fleece and a lightweight breathable, windproof and waterproof jacket. Finally, I don’t go anywhere without my fleece neck gaiter and fleece hat which I tuck my hair up under and of course my gloves. Backpack, water, granola bars and trekking poles. I also packed my jetboil stove in case I wanted to make coffee along the way. I never did end up using it.

I need to read up more on the history of this Notch and its’ creation. I do believe the mountain(s) had to be blasted for the construction of the rails (and the highway near here – I-384) but I think part of the Notch was natural, the result of an advancing and retreating glacier. Either way, walking through this area of the Notch was truly magical. The massive granite walls on either side of me were covered with ice and the sight was just spectacular. In this section, going through the Notch, the trail is very narrow and is made to seem even more so I think by these granite walls that loomed over me at least a hundred feet high. In places the ice blanketed the granite, covering it smoothly and in other places huge icicles hung from jagged granite cliffs. You could see the many different layers of rock and sedimentation in this cross section of the mountain. How many layers and how many years did these layers represent? How many centuries? I wished I had studied geology in college (just as I have often wished I had studied meteorology.) Perhaps it was better, though, that I didn’t because now – as I walked through this magnificent Notch – I was able to look at it through neither a critical nor a technically trained eye. While I might have observed it in a Spock-like matter of fact manner had I been educated in that field; now I was able to observe it from a lay person’s point and truly appreciate the beauty and wonder of it; pure and simple. And as I walked, turning my head from side to side so as not to miss a thing I came up with a lay person’s exclamation. I stopped in my tracks, gawking at it all while turning round and round in place, craning my neck to see all the way to the top. “This is f’king awesome,” I said to myself, out loud. And it was. It truly was!

I decided I would walk 90 minutes and then turn back. I was on cloud nine, again, to be out here walking the trail on this clear late autumn day. Just barely out and I’ve already decided that I like this section of the trail more so than the previous. Once I’m through the immediate notch area there are more cliffs and ledge outcroppings off to the west of the trail rising - to the left of me - on a steep upgrade. Off to the east - on my right as I walk straight ahead on the trail - the terrain slopes just as sharply down approximately 100 feet before rising steeply again further to the east. The trail itself, just as was the previous stretch from Steeles Crossing to the Notch, is straight, flat and well groomed. And here’s the best part: on my right, 100 feet down slope and running parallel to the trail, there is a stream! Oh, how do I get down there? I want to walk along the stream. There does not seem to be any easy or safe way to get there. But wait. I see someone down there walking southward. Well, how did they get down there? I will keep my eyes peeled for a side trail.

As I walk I keep looking all around me, just soaking it all in. I walk along briskly. I get to be here on this trail and see all of this splendor for 3 hours or more as I walk. That’s plenty of time I assure myself, don’t worry – there’s time. There’s a rushing stream near my home off of a road that I don’t travel on very often. But when I do, I’m always mindful to look for the stream as I pass by. If I’m lucky, my view of this stream rushing downward lasts all of 5 seconds and then I’ve passed it. Sometimes, when I’m by myself, I’ll drive very slowly and I’ll even stop a minute. (Just as I stop to talk to the cows on Flanders Rd near Linda’s house). But now – now I have 3 hours of walking in between the up sloping woods and cliffs to my left and the down sloping woods and stream to my right. I am truly in my element here. Life is good.

After a while I began to pass other people – they heading south while I’m heading north – mostly they are runners. Some of the runners run north past me. They all look focused and in a “zone.” I wonder whether they are seeing all this great stuff around them.

As I walk I keep hoping to run into Kilter Man, but it is not to be on this day. In fact I would never see the man again. And as I write this, on 3/7/11, I can’t help but wonder if he is back out on the trail. If not, I know it will be soon. In my conversations with him – in my head – I ask him more about the AT. He is happy to indulge as he realizes I look to him as a hiker god. I ask him if it is proper for him to bestow a trail name upon me (since we are not on THE trail, but since after all, he is an AT thru hiker, so---- it’s sort of a grey area) and that if he would do this, I would be so honored and forever in his debt. Typically, one is given a trail name by their hiking peers after a while on the AT, but some arrive with trail names already in place. This is usually done at night around the campfire so others can bear witness. They are named for any number of reasons, usually characteristics they exhibit, mannerisms, etc. Some names that I have read about are: Persistent, Certain, Bananas, Piro, Ninja, Walks Too Slow, Breathless, Second Stage, Storm, Liteshoe, WTF, Bad Ass, Bad Influence, Pastor, Grasshopper, Rocket and so on. I talk to myself all the time and when I do – apparently I whisper. Sometimes I suddenly realize I’ve been whispering and that my dog is looking at me as if to say; “Are you talking to me? Should I be listening – cuz I really can’t quite hear you!” So, I thought I would ask Kilter Man to name me thusly –if he was cool with it. In my mind, I would kneel down on one knee and he would place his trekking pole from one shoulder then the other – saying, “I hereby bestow upon you the name – Whispers – and from here on in you shall thus be called.” I realize that this all sounds very silly, but the thought of this amuses me so and I offer no apologies for my thoughts.

I’ve been walking a while now and I can see a clearing through the woods with a pond off the trail way down in a valley. This is actually Valley Falls Park in Vernon. Sweet! I come upon a bike stand of all things, with space in it for several bikes. You know - the type of bike stand you’d see at a school or municipality. This puzzles me but soon I figure it out. (You’ll have to wait to find out, though). There appear to be side trails that must lead very sharply down to the pond. Nice. But I prefer to be walking up here in the woods so I continue on. It is now 10:00 which is my self-imposed turn back time. But I don’t want to turn back yet. Just a bit further!

The trail begins to take a sharpish turn counter clockwise – to head westward - like the corners of a 400 meter running track. Suddenly, I am struck by the scents of cooking which come wafting through the woods. Bacon, eggs, pancakes. I can actually smell all these things separately. And then I can smell the scent of a dryer sheet. Someone has a load of clothes in the dryer. This seems so out of place to me and I’m not so sure if I welcome this intrusion – this assault on my senses. No sooner do these aromas hit me than I can see houses through the woods off to the left side of the trail. As I walk further I can see that some of these homes back right up to the trail and there are paths that lead through the woods from their backyards to the trail. I later learn that these homes are on a cul-de-sac in Vernon. I google earthed them and could see the trail and where they were in relation to it. It was pretty cool.

10:15 now. Time to turn back.

Just prior to turning back I stopped to talk with some folks who had walked from the Vernon trailhead southward which I believe was a mile further. They asked me about my trekking poles and I fawned all over their dog. As I turned to go back a few minutes later, I met them again as they had turned back too and were heading to their car. The woman was feeling a little weak so they cut their walk short. I quickly offered up my granola bar which she declined saying she needed protein, but thanked me profusely. I know that awful feeling and I wished them both well.

I talked with some other hikers and I soon learn from them how I can get down to that trail to walk along the stream. I am thrilled. They said to watch for the bike rack and take that trail down and that it splits to either go north to the pond and park or south along the stream and that it will eventually lead back up to this main rail trail – just follow the blue/yellow blazes. Perfect! I know the side trail with the bike rack is just up ahead. Apparently one can ride their bike - from any trailhead really, but the one in Vernon is just a mile from here. Lock up your bike and walk down to the park. I guess that makes sense.

I soon find myself descending the steep side trail and I am finally at my stream walking south! This trail is marked with blazes on the trees every 100 feet or so but the path here, over roots and rocks, is very worn and it follows the stream so it’s sort of hard to get lost. I look up to the main rail trail and I can see the break in the woods where it is and then woods and ledges that rise away from it. I see people up on the trail and I wonder if they are looking at me and wishing that they too could walk along this forest stream. I’m sure they will find the way to get down here.

I walk along at a slower pace keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me so as not to trip on the very uneven terrain here. I am in heaven to be walking along this stream and I prefer this rocks and roots type of trail. I stop after a while to sit on a rock near the stream. I drink about 14 oz of water and take a deep cleansing breath. I can see a hawk way up above the tree tops and he is screeching, being chased or chasing another bird. The sound of the stream is so soothing and it’s sight is mesmerizing. I flash back to my childhood when I am playing in a stream that used to run down the side of my road. It was a ditch really, but when it had been raining hard or during the spring thaw, it was a magnificent stream and I would spend hours floating little boats (sticks and leaves) and just watching them go. When they would get jammed up here and there, I would come to the rescue to make sure they made it safely down to the next checkpoint where one of my sibs or neighbors would be to take over its care from there. Just beyond this stream at my home are the woods with natural ledge outcroppings everywhere creating caves and cliffs for us all of us kids to enjoy. Wow. The screech of the hawk above me yanks me from my past and although I’ve been sitting here for not more than 2 minutes it is time to move on.

As I sit and write this now though, recalling once again my glorious childhood, I think of the lake; the woods; my Mom and Dad; my sisters and the Pelletiers. The memories are bittersweet and I am surprised by the sudden rush of my emotions. It is inevitable, I suppose, that the sweetness of life is accompanied by the sadness too. Tears come quickly and flow easily.

Back up on the main rail trail now, having followed the blazes up the steep ascent, I am mindful to step away and study this hidden entrance to the stream so that I may find it in the future when I come here again. And I did return here a few weeks later when there was a very light blanket of snow partially covering the brown leaves on the forest floor. I was reminded of a bowl of cornflakes with a light sprinkling of sugar and smiled at the thought. I came back to walk along my stream and commune with nature and I will come again and again.

I will come back to walk along my stream again and listen to the trickling of the water there. I will come back to listen to the screech of the hawk and I will be still to listen for the wind and maybe listen to my heart. I will come back to appreciate and to give praise. I will come back to play and to pray and to laugh out loud at my silly thoughts or at a memory. I will come back to whisper to myself and to perhaps even sing out loud (no critics around to stifle me here). Finally, I will come back here where I feel strong, competent and independent. I will come for the silence, solitude and solace. And mostly I will come back for the nourishment – the nourishment for my soul.

Author’s Note: Now I only wished I hadn’t lost my gloves! I mean, how does one do that? How do you take your gloves off and forget them? Did they fall out of my pocket? I know I put them in my pack but they are not there! Must have been when I rummaged through my pack, taking things out, looking for my banana! Oh! Well, I hope someone found them and that they could use them. They were my favorite pair. If someone did find them, they’re probably saying: “How the heck can someone lose their gloves? What fools!” I know that’s what I would say, except the fools part. Well, I bought another pair the following week. All is well again!