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The Last Hike of Autumn: Behind the Big Sleep

 

This past week, my trusty companion Willis and I stole away to one our go-to regional hikes, Canoe Creek State Park. While not as isolated as my favorite woodland destinations, Canoe Creek is a beautiful and easy-to-reach patch of PA nature. With the first major storm on the horizon, I sensed it might be my last chance to get some late-fall, snow-free hiking.

I rediscovered my love of the outdoors back in 2020, during the early days of the COVID pandemic. Despite all the terrible and ongoing troubles brought on by this virus (medical, social, and political), COVID brought me back to a type of grounding I had totally forgotten about in my life, namely the value of unplugging. Since this rediscovery, Willis has been my constant companion for every sojourn I’ve taken into the beautiful woods of my home state.

There’s something particularly special about getting a final hike in before the snow falls, particularly if you’ve been visiting a trail year-round. From the birth and flowering of the spring, to the humidity and relaxed pace of middle summer, to the changing of the leaves in the fall, if you hike a specific area long enough, you learn its personality. Like people, forests go through moods that often echo our own.

As Willis and I made our way around the lakeside trail, the crunch of leaves was bolstered by frozen soil, the outer edges of a land making its way into a winter slumber. Around the shore, the lake was already starting to freeze, chasing away the kayakers while letting the ice-fishers know that they would still have to wait a while longer to drill. A few shots of sunlight broke through the empty branches, like the credits rolling on the last movie that would be playing in this theater for a while…and with nobody else on the trails, Willis and I had the last screening to ourselves. The vibe was simultaneously happy and sad; on one hand I felt grateful to be walking upon bare earth for a final time for the season while also watching fall begin to pass onto winter. The big sleep for so many creatures was upon us, and autumn was giving us a final glance as if to say “see you next year.”

From the late fall through the winter, being in the woods feels like walking in a shopping mall after hours; you are seeing a normally bustling place at its least active. In some ways, it feels like getting a glimpse into a world that few others see. To be there nearly at the point when the sun goes down and the lights go “out” for the year is truly special.

Since 2020, I have found myself longing for more periods of quiet contemplation (and frequently one-sided conversations….Willis is an amazing listener). The time on the trail has given me waking moments to process the complexities of the world around me without the competition of social media, text messages, or other screens. It is a peace that is difficult to explain to those who don’t wander into the woods now and again.

In many cultures, winter is a time to retreat into our homes and batten down the hatches against the onslaught of short days and cold nights in contemplation of the past year. As the snow falls, Willis and I will be bucking that trend in favor of returning to our favorite trails and seeing a side of reality that many never witness. We owe it to our beautiful parks to experience all of their seasonal personalities. Make no mistake, the winter contemplation will still take place, but through one-sided conversations between a man and his four-legged best friend in leisurely strides and breath steaming in the chilly air.

Until then, I will relish the memories of my “transition” hike and time well spent. I hope the spirit of the woods calls you back for a visit sometime soon.


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