Return of The Rambler: Going on a Hike

18 Jan 2013 . category: . Comments

When I was much younger, I posted prolifically to a Livejournal blog. I often created posts I called “Ramblers”, where I essentially live-blogged my life with short, pithy updates (I predicted Twitter–who knew?). I’m far too embarrassed to link to any of that here, but it’s out there on the internets somewhere. Re-reading those posts, I remembered how fun it was to write without a purpose (and how funny the output could be). So, I’ve decided to write something in the spirit of those old “Rambler” posts, but with a new voice.

In the middle of my vacation, my immune system decided that it wasn’t a vacation anymore. Yes, that’s right, I got a seasonal gift: the common cold. Between the headaches, sore throats, and medically-induced drowsiness (the worst kind, by the way) I was really unfit to leave the house. However, once the symptoms started to wear away, I realized I had a new illness: a bad case of cabin fever. I wanted out. Out of the house, out of the neighborhood, away from everything and everyone else. The only problem is that, rather embarrassingly, I know nothing about my hometown.

You see, unlike most of my peers, I didn’t get my driving license (or my sense of direction) until the end of my sophomore year at the University of California, San Diego. Since then, my driving has largely fallen into two categories: driving in and around San Diego, and driving from San Diego to my parents’ home in Northern California. As a result, the only real practical bit of driving I know is how to get from our house onto the freeway heading out of the Bay Area. As you can imagine, this lack of knowledge is pretty limiting. I need to bust out Google Maps even when I’m heading to the local grocery store.

My utter stupidity when it comes to the road system has an additional cost. I have no idea what there is to do in my neighborhood. Now, granted, my parents live in Fremont, a town which seldom gets accused of being a hotbed of excitement. But the problem remained that I was bored, and needed somewhere to go, since all my friends in the area were occupied. (A common problem, though statistics would suggest otherwise). Out of ideas, I asked my dad, and he suggested I take a hike.

Now, I don’t think he was being short with me (but, this being my father, one can’t be too sure). He suggested I take his car and make the drive over to the Sunol Regional Park. It’s a quiet place, he said. Just the thing I was looking for! I’ve always loved hikes; my dad took me on plenty as I was growing up, and I was in the Boy Scouts for a good chunk of my life. That. then, would be the cure for my cabin fever. A nice, brisk hike in the woods.

Unfortunately for me, I’m not a Scout anymore. These days, “Be Prepared” has given way to “Beware airline baggage fees”. Since I had flown this time and really hadn’t expected to take a hike, I had not brought along shoes, a bag, or a proper jacket for the job. I ended up having to improvise a few things together, but I managed to carry a bottle of water, a flashlight, a pocketknife, and a granola bar. Right, then. I was prepared. My dad handed me the keys to his car, and I was off.

The drive itself was fantastic. My dad’s car is a big, 4-door luxury sedan, with a huge engine and rear-wheel drive. In non-car-person’s terms, that meant that this was the sort of car for getting whisked along a narrow, twisty county road in great comfort, while playing some nice Mozart or Chopin on the lovely stereo system. And that, essentially, was what I was doing. Except I was playing Skrillex instead of classical. And I may have been a bit excited when the road straightened out or a particularly bendy bit came into view. But anyway, I got to the park with relatively no trouble.

Once I got there, I realized how silly I did look. I was wearing whatever I had available, and while it made a decent outfit, it didn’t really fit the outdoors. I had on a black felt coat, skinny jeans, and DC skate shoes. All of which was nice…for a night out in downtown, among bright lights, flashy cars, and trendy bars. But I had none of those things around me–just a gravel path in the woods. I reminded myself of the start of a really bad comedy. One of those ones where the “suave” main character’s expensive car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, leading to a string of zany misadventures and a conveniently placed life lesson. My trip wasn’t like that, but it’s certainly fun to think about, isn’t it?

I could talk about the sounds, like the crunch of the gravel, the whistling of the wind, the growling of the little chihuahua who’d had enough of a puppy’s investigations (yes, that really did happen)…but all of that is hackneyed and cliche. It’s almost like taking a picture of a sandwich with Instagram, if you will. People say these things to mean that going on a walk in the woods can be a special thing, and it is. But how?

I think I know. You see, most people let their minds keep worrying about many, many things at once, simply because we have the mental capacity to do so. (I should note that as someone with a Psych major as a brother that you can take NONE of this seriously. You haven’t, right?) When you’re walking along in the woods, you need a lot of that capacity to keep yourself standing and take stock of just how freaking amazing the world around you is. In this thought-restricted environment, you end up tackling your worries one at a time, in order of importance.

Alas, I’m not a nature purist–I need to mix the nature with something, a sort of cocktail. Today, the mixer was an album by The Lumineers named (surprisingly) The Lumineers. I’m more of a junkie when it comes to music, so I’m not one to really reflect and analyze my choices, but this one made sense. Yes, the music here really was intended for the sort of people who wear unkempt beards, thick-rimmed glasses and tweed coats–the hipster, if that is still a thing with a definition. But there’s something so heartbreakingly simple and thoughtful about their music. It’s a fantastic companion for a walk in the woods.

I did a lot of thinking while I was on the hike. Of course, as I said before, most of it was silly and not worth sharing. However, what I was feeling as I left is totally worth sharing. My face was flushed from the cool air, and I felt more awake than I had in the previous two weeks. I felt calm, at peace–I’d decided on what was important to worry about, and had cast the rest of the stuff out of mind. I arrived back at my parents’ house (thanks to Google Maps) in a new state of peace and tranquility.

Then our puppy managed to help herself to some food in the kitchen, and we had to set her straight. Goodbye, new state of peace and tranquility. At least, until the next time I have enough sense to go on a hike.

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