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November 10, 2003 ~ Breakthrough
Monday.
The leaves have almost all fallen, just the few straggling solitary trees here and there, who cling to their summer gloss. I hiked the River Trail today, trying not to slip on the plentiful fallen nuts, squirrels darting this way and that before my footfalls. Without the leaves, the landscape opens despite the trees. I could see, through those bare trunks, Jones Mountain to my left, Suicide Ridge and main campus to my right.
I hiked briskly, against the chill, all along the river, scaling the rocks past Riverbend, continuing on where the trail breaks off from the river, follows a creek, crosses Old Farm School Road, and I found myself on Dam Pasture Trail for the second time ever. This time, I thought, I'm going to find the dam.
A few members of the College's Natural Resources Crew were out logging the first segment of forest along that trail. No worries. The college does not clear-cut. The NRC comes through a section of forest and picks a few trees, and does some thinning of the underbrush. It keeps the forest healthy, protects against uncontrollable wildfires, and is a very responsible, forest-friendly way to log. I waved and smiled at the student whom I knew, then continued on.
As I crested the hill past the alfalfa pasture, the sun was just about to slip behind a mountain, a glittering gold fire at its summit. Looking at the sun, I knew that I should head back. I had been out for over an hour, and sunset was only a half an hour off. I would be taking the same route back, and shouldn't try it past dusk. But.
But the air was so crisp. But the forest was so beautiful in that golden light. But I really did want to find out what laid further on down Dam Pasture Trail. Of course I kept going.
And I'm so glad that I did. Dark hemlocks and mossy forest floor and fairytale mushrooms and little creeks and a winding trail through beautiful woods with periwinkle groundcover. I came to the large creek which supposedly has the dam, and followed it for a time, enthralled by the sound of the water, the rock formations, the old stone walls found here and there, covered with vines and moss.
The sound of the water got louder as I climbed one part of the trail, and I found myself about twenty feet above the creek, at a rock wall. I peeked over and down, and there were the remains of a very old dam, old broken-down wood and metal with the water rushing over between two high rock walls, one of which I was perched on. I wanted to stay. The sun was setting over the scene, and the water made ever changing patterns, both visually and audibly. I vowed to bring Morgan sometime back to that place, and hurried back down the trail, through the periwinkle woods, along the creek, and back to the pasture, where I spotted one of the unclaimed campus dogs.
She's a rather sad one. Half feral, probably abused before, she never allows anyone near her, and will usually run away at the sight of a person. But she was running directly toward me. And growling. I remember thinking, Well. This is... interesting. I stood and watched her. I could tell that it was not a serious growl, and her manner looked, if I wasn't mistaken, playful. Still growling, she ran right past me, circled, and came full on toward me from behind. I grinned as she stopped her growl, and I noted a little tail wag. Crazy dog.
I spoke to her in soothing tones as she approached, holding out my hand. She sniffed it tentatively and then rubbed up against me. A dog who never lets anyone come near her. I realized that I was holding my breath. Breakthrough. I gave her a good scratch behind the ears, she looked up at me, then gave a shake of her head, the invitation to play, then ran out into the alfalfa. She stopped, turned, looked at me, ran back, gave another invitation (Stupid human. You're supposed to chase me.) then ran off again. I followed a ways, but she was too fast. She gave me a doggy grin then disappeared into the trees.
Maybe there's hope for that dog yet. I think that I just made a friend.
The sun had completely set by the time I made it back to Riverbend. The rest of the hike, in the twilight, I listened to the night creatures come out. Walking through river cane stands in the dark, the constant noise of the river, keeping my eyes carefully fixed on the trail in front of me. Night focuses my vision, makes me concentrate. It was soothing, there, under the bare trees, as the starts came out. Over six miles, all told. Not bad, for what little time I had.
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