Finding stability in the wild
My best friend Nicole and I had been wanting to hike the Old Rag Trail for the past three years, but something always came up. First, an unplanned work trip, then weather delays, and once we forgot to purchase the required daily ticket. Needless to say, we never had the opportunity to hike the trail.
The Old Rag circuit is a well-known trail that attracts hikers from all over the world. It’s a 9.8-mile strenuous hike that includes a rock scramble that requires you to use your hands, feet, knees, and, at times, crawl up the side of a rock or squeeze through a crevice to move forward. All while gaining approximately 2,600 feet of elevation.
I couldn’t wait to tackle it!
It’s so popular that during the months of March-November (peak season), hikers are required to purchase a day-use ticket, which helps limit the number of people on the trail.
When one of my local hiking clubs posted details for a group hike up Old Rag, I jumped at the opportunity. I’d never quite thought of January as the optimal time to hike, but, despite the small chance for snow flurries, the forecast was in our favor.
That morning, however, while making the 2-hour drive to the mountain, I was having second thoughts. It was snowing! Not a storm or blizzard, but enough to cause me to question my decision.
The Climb
Fortunately, by the time I arrived at the trailhead, the snow flurries had stopped. It was cold enough that I could see my breath, but I knew once I started moving, I’d warm up quickly.
The day turned out to be perfect for climbing 3,284 feet. We started moving, and before long, many within the group began to peel off layers of clothing. Old Rag wasn’t playing! We started ascending the minute we hit the trail. No segway, no easing in; we started at 1,050 feet above sea level.
It was a beautiful climb. With the trees stripped bare, nothing stood between me and the vast expanse of the mountains and sky. The higher we climbed, the more attention the views demanded. How could you not pause to take it all in?
Standing there, I felt small compared to the raw, unfiltered beauty that lay exposed in front of me. If I ever needed confirmation that my path, my purpose, and the person I’ve become were guided by something greater than me, this was it.
If nature could hold so much beauty with so little effort, then I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be: in life and on this day. I felt grounded.
Nature helps us find equilibrium
We hiked as a small group of ten. Our ‘no man left behind’ mentality slowed the pace of the climb, but allowed more time for me to fully absorb the panoramic views. They were breathtaking!
I noticed hollowed out trees that looked like tiny hobbit homes, mushrooms growing on trees resembling fish scales, underground springs I could hear, but couldn’t see, and boulders balancing precariously atop beds of rocks.
It amazed me that the rocks were balancing so perfectly without rolling off the side of the mountain.
Even in the wild arrangements of the trees, bushes, roots, streams, and rocks, nature finds equilibrium.
That rock’s been resting like that for who knows how long. I even tried to push one, as if I were strong enough to move it. It didn’t budge. It was impossibly perched yet perfectly still.
Balance doesn’t always look stable, but it holds. It looked off-balance, but it was immovable & strong. Much like the paths our lives take.
I could easily equate the journey up Old Rag to my own life as a reminder that sometimes stability comes from perfectly imperfect arrangements. I’ve always tried to find balance in life, between work, relationships, maintaining my health & fitness, and making time for friends & family. I think we all do.
Maybe this was nature’s way of reminding me that balance isn’t always perfect. That maintaining an evenly weighted scale is a state of mind. That, in truth, there’s no such thing as perfect balance. It’s up to us to make time for the things that matter, however we can.
The Draw of Nature
This is what draws me to nature. I’m reminded that there’s so much more to this world than just me and my issues. Nature humbles me; it shows me the order of things and how small I am compared to everything else in the world, yet still an intricate part of the big picture.
In all, the hike took us longer than expected, which served as another lesson. Well, two actually. The first being that we’re better together.
Because of our group mentality, the hike turned into an 8-hour adventure.
Together, we helped each other navigate the rock scrambles, rough terrain, and rocks.
We pushed each other through, under, and over crevices, handed off backpacks to fit through, and motivated those scared to jump over gaps. This left little time to enjoy the views at the top as night was calling.
Because of the delays, we had 1.5 hours to get off the mountain and onto flat land, or we’d be navigating over rocks & roots in the dark. Our leader, who’d climbed Old Rag several times before, knew exactly how to push us to get where we needed to be before dark.
The second lesson was to always be prepared. Many of us came equipped with headlamps, but others did not. Our hike leader had several extras, which gave us enough light to safely navigate the terrain. We returned to our cars, tired and hungry yet proud of our accomplishment.
It was an adventure. We began the hike as mostly strangers, but finished as a bonded tribe of friends. The 8-hour journey had transformed us as people, giving us a sense of accomplishment, a better appreciation of nature, and a shared story we’d remember long after we left the mountain.
Balance
Since retiring, I’ve been quietly considering my next move. Even with more free time, I still find myself trying to maintain a balance. Between enjoying my free time while supporting my aging mom’s needs, showing up for my partner, and staying committed to the volunteer work that brings me joy.
But that day, on the mountain, surrounded by bare trees, balancing boulders, and a sky that felt close enough to touch, I realized that maybe life isn’t about achieving balance at all.
Maybe life is about learning to stand steady in the middle of whatever situation we’re given. Life is about trusting that even when things appear out of balance, we’re more secure than we think.
I’ll just take it one hike at a time. I don’t have to map out the whole Appalachian Trail to take my next step.
Be Well,
Edrika