Adventures in the Woods

I'm on a writers' retreat, which at this point should simply be called a retreat since I haven't gotten any writing done.

A friend from my writers' group rented a cabin in the Hocking Hills, the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains here in southern Ohio. 

Yesterday, a friend and I walked a little over a mile to a nature sanctuary and explored a trail there. We saw no other people as we wound down into the woods and ended at a Great Wall of mossy stone and a quiet green reflecting pool with water pouring into it from the cliffs above. 

Today, that friend has gone home, so alone, I decided to run to the trail and explore the path we didn't take. As I got to the sanctuary, just past the parking area and a wide swath of flat grass, a young deer startled and raced away through the woods. Did I scare her, I wondered. 

I kept going, surrounded by the hum of cicadas waking up, and turned down the path to the Rock Stalls. 

I'd only gone a little way when I heard a sound like a horse snorting out. Three times that huffing sound came from some place close. 

I froze and realized I was a mile and a half from our cabin and utterly alone in the woods. 

When I heard the sound, I'd imagined a stag pawing the ground, and wondered if he'd run at me. 

I called my husband. 

I told him the situation and he said, "It could be a bear." 

Gulp. I hadn't thought about a bear. 

"Some people say you should try to look big if a bear comes at you, but I don't think that would work for you." Really? Short jokes-- now?

He suggested I turn around but I really wanted to be brave and hike the trail alone. 

"It could be a person paralleling you in the woods," he suggested. 

"There are definitely no people around," I assured him. At 7:30 in the morning on an isolated trail, animals were my bigger worry. 

"How dense are the woods? Can you see into them?" he asked. But I had stopped by some thick bushes. 

"I'm going to keep hiking," I told him. 

So I continued down the path. The woods thinned out, but after a few minutes, I heard the snorting noise again. Three times. An asthmatic bear? 

I stood on the trail, the dappled sunshine struck me, and I began to sing: "My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue 

An endless changing vision of an ever changing view"

The song helped me be brave and I continued. 

The woods thinned out even more and I felt comfortable taking a few selfies. 

But I figure I could be one of those people who later inspects pictures and sees a bear or bobcat hanging out in the trees above me. 

The path intersected with the one we'd taken the day before and I felt more comfortable as I revisited the ancient spaces there. 

I made it back home after a 4 1/2 mile hike, which kind of ruins the end of the story, but if I'd been attacked by a bear, I wouldn't be writing this anyway. 

The Problem with Headlamps

Now this may not be a problem that everyone has to deal with, but I'm probably starting a petition and I expect all of you to sign in support of me.
Headlamps are a problem for runners -- not the runners who have them but the runners who don't.
We run at 6 a.m. on Saturdays and most of the year it is fairly dark.
The trail meanders along the Scioto River, but roads are nearby and street lamps or porch lights provide peripheral light. Then don't forget the ghostly moon and the sparkling stars. We can usually see the dark strip of asphalt in front of us well enough.
Until a runner comes along with a headlamp.
I'm sure you've all seen them, those obnoxious lights that glare out of people's heads like a cyclops eye. The problems are two-fold: Number one if I'm running toward someone with a headlamp, I'm blinded.. I can't see a thing. The runner could be a Mack truck coming toward me. I think the headlamp would be a great idea for someone lurking waiting to abduct someone because it would blind the person being abducted.
The second problem is that the bright light lingers after the headlamp wearer has passed on. My eyes need to adjust again to the dark as I search out the trial, which was perfectly visible before I was blinded by the headlamp wearer.
My friend Pam was the first one to complain about the headlamp wearers.
We tried shunning them, refusing to say hello to headlamp wearers when we ran. We'd even look away to try to save our vision.
Then Saturday, in the dark and the swirling fog, Pam showed up wearing a headlamp.
"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em," she said.
So we ran a bit with the headlamp like a spotlight in front of us.
I decided that whoever had a story to tell should run in front in the spotlight, but that took too much effort.
Then I tried jumping into the spotlight and singing:

"Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter
Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter
Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade"

But it's surprising how much breath it takes to sing and run at the same time.
Then Naj suggested Pam turn off the light. So she did. And we could see fine.
We ran the rest of the way complaining about those people with their headlamps.

Saturday Snapshot

Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books. If you are interested in participating, just post a photo (new or old), but make sure it's not one that you found online. Add your link to Alyce's Saturday post for all to enjoy.

Earl went hiking last Sunday in Wayne National Forest in southeastern Ohio and took this shot full of sunshine and shadow across the rocks.
The trail he followed is one of the most difficult in Ohio, but he found it a bit disappointing because the arduous trail never led to high point with a great view.