Solitude

This morning I woke up with a desire to spend some time alone. So, I readied myself for a hike in the mountains . . . solo. When I got to the entrance of the park, the guard told me it was closed but that I could enter anyway. That meant that I was REALLY alone - I only saw two other people on the mountain the entire time.


And it was amazing. The sky (above the smog) was blue, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, and there were no cars. I couldn't have asked for much more. The hike was gruesome - slippery dry dirt up a steep mountainside, and I didn't have walking sticks. But despite the labor, when I arrived at my original goal destination, I really didn't feel like stopping. So, I continued to the top of the mountain. My perseverance was rewarded with a fresh breeze of cool air and a magnificent view of the mountains beyond that first point. I was overwhelmed. Sometimes I think I should just become Heidi -- living in the mountains (Alps or Andes - either would do) able to run up the hillside at any point in time with my little goatherd friend. How wonderful would be such a simplistic life. But, I had to end my day-dreaming soon thereafter to make the long, arduous trek down.

My mountains

I think someone else had the same idea in mind. As I was sliding my way down, I could hear the faint sounds of a flute float up to me on the breeze. Upon searching for the owner, I saw a man about 200 yards away to the left of the trail, sitting by himself, playing a traditional flute. And despite how refreshing it was to spend the day by myself in God's creation, the soft melodies offered greatly appreciated company for the rest of the journey.

And now I have a sunburn and a nice scrape on the knee to prove the trip. Oh, and really dirty hands.

Dirty hands telling the story of my excursion to the ridge on the left.