Storms rolled through overnight and by morning, any rain still clinging to the trees quickly dried under the rising sun, if not by the continuous gentle breeze. A check of the weather revealed temps were to only hit low seventies; I knew I had to get on the trail. After doing a few things around here, I threw some basics into the car and headed out. Nearing the end of our driveway ("driveway" being a very generous description), I noticed Uncle Jeff on the road with his tractor. He was clearing some overgrowth between the roadside and old stonewall that runs along his property. I could tell he was careful to work around the blackberries; he sure does love his blackberries. I stopped to say hello and we exchanged pleasantries. The sun was climbing high at this point, and low seventies or not, Uncle Jeff was working hard and this sunny day had made itself known. I asked if he needed help, he said no thanks, that he was just about finished. I wished him well and said that I hoped he could spend the afternoon resting. He smiled and said that was the plan, which for some reason gave us both a moment of laughter, as if resting sounded great in theory, but who knows if it was actually going to happen. I told him I’d be over climbing Pisgah, and he wisely suggested that what I should do is drive to the north end of the lake and go swimming, instead. I nodded and there was another moment of laughter; just like before, it sure sounded like a good idea.
We said our goodbyes and I slowly pulled away, careful not to kick up too much dirt and gravel in Uncle Jeff’s direction, and continued down the road. A few hundred feet up on the left was Ozzy, Grandma June’s dog, lying there enjoying the day. He was not exactly off the road if we’re being real specific, but it’s not like there’s any traffic around here so a snooze in the road is not too great of a risk. Grandma June’s place is behind us, down the road in the direction I had just come, but Ozzy lives beyond her property, wandering throughout these woods and roads and fields each day, visiting with various family members and generally being a bit of a wild guy. Nowadays, Ozzy includes me in his rounds which has made my place here as official as anything. On this particular day, Ozzy has chosen to hang out in front of a newly formed entrance made by loggers who are working in the woods this summer. They seem careful, the work is happening deep in the forest which means things from the road don’t appear much different, save for the piled high cedar at the entrance, and trucks, skidders and loaders coming and going behind where Ozzy has taken up temporary residence. It seems he now includes these guys and this logging operation as part of his tribe. I figured Ozzy wasn’t about to move his comfortable body for my old car so just as I left Uncle Jeff, I drove by the boy slowly, careful not to kick the road toward his contented self. Dogs really do have the life.
I made my way off the ridge, over to Pisgah, and climbed. It’s not a huge hike, couple of miles, but the ascent is mostly at a steep incline and it’s categorized as “moderate/difficult.” On matters of aloneness, I realized that solo hiking sure does not include the camaraderie and encouragement one enjoys when hiking with others. I’ve hiked alone plenty of times, but I don’t recall doing so on a trail as vigorous as this. Adam is a pro at setting a pace that motivates and keeps things moving along, while also knowing when to adjust as the group requires. On my own, the hike felt long and tedious, but the weather was perfect and I was glad for it.
Once back at camp, Ozzy stopped by for an evening visit and though I’d like to think he was here to commiserate with me and my tired body, we both knew he only showed up because passing through suited his evening plans. My legs had not yet fully returned, but I went ahead and rigged up the shower anyway, and never had I been more thankful for two gallons of hot water in my life. Ready for bed by 6pm, I watched two turkeys forage outside my window, finished a book, and snapped a picture of myself because I realized I could not remember the last time I looked in a mirror. As suspected, I am still here and camp hair is wilder than imagined, but I do appear content, even if tired, which matches how I feel. Then I typed out these words, blew out the candle, and drifted off to sleep.