Hiking Challenge Day Three: Overcoming
Going on day three of hiking, I found myself running into a bit of an issue; upon waking up, I felt like literal death.
Not because I decided to drunkenly watch The Little Prince the night before. No, I'd never be so irresponsible. Me? The picture of adulthood.
Anyway, for, *ehem*, whatever reason, I decided to sleep in for a bit and go on a hike later in the day. Also, with my internship for Spoon University, I've been kinda behind with the writing and the stuff. I know, I know--excuses-excuses. I'll shut up now and get to the point.
At around two in the afternoon, I found myself well enough to head out. I was thinking someplace out on the island, someplace with a lake or at least water. Eventually, I found something worth my effort, got into my car, and I was off.
The things I do to myself, honestly...
Blydenburgh County Park
Maybe it was the lingering headache. Maybe it was the fact that it was midday and pretty hot. Maybe it was just plain exhaustion. But for whatever reason, I just wasn't super feeling this hike. Not at first, anyway. Bugs got to me like you wouldn't believe--a product of the nearby lake, which was gorgeous but no doubt the home of many a flying-hell-beast--and much of the trail was super muddy. But I kept on with it, because, hey, I'm not going to quit just yet. I figured I'd give it a try, ya know?
I got lost a few times and ended up going up a rather steep trail that, by the number of bright, yellow signs I somehow only noticed on the way back, I was probably not supposed to be on. Oh well--I saw so many bluejays on that trail, and they're my favorite birds ever. Like, they're so vividly colored.
I hear bluejays are assholes as far as birds go. I think that makes me like them even more.
The last mile or so of the whole, 6.8 mile trip was characterized by these random bridges over what I assumed was--wait for this shocker--super muddy ground. Either way, it was pretty neat, since the bridges usually either cut through these mini forests of reeds, or went over cute little rivulets. Ugh. Tiny bridges over tiny streams. Brings warmth to my heart.
I returned to the start of the loop and dropped down on one of the benches on the little beach beside the lake. I saw a large white bird--a stork, perhaps--fly across the water, dragging its feet across the surface as though tearing through fabric. I remembered seeing trees, entirely covered in the initials of lovers who had thought to immortalize their passions.
I wonder how many of them are still together. I want to believe they are. I think I have an issue with the finality of endings, and how the existence of anything, really, seems so fragile. Anyway.
Much Love, Actual