SOLITUDE, HEMLOCK AND A FRIEND

(Originally written April 26th, 2000)

Mountain Road splits the rocky Metacomet Trail in two at the top of West Suffield, with the majority of people following the path south towards the cliffs and views of Old Newgate Prison.  I usually choose the closed down section heading north to the Massachusetts border; the once continuous trail now regulated to dead-ending in the back of someone's yard.

There are plenty of options for trails close to my home, so why do I keep following this same path day after day, week after week, year after year?  This is a question I am sure many of us ask ourselves as we plod along a familiar trail over and over.  I don’t think the answer is a simple one, or even one single answer.  At least it isn't a single answer for me.

I guess that few others travel this route make it appealing to me.  The "other side" has a lot of traffic; hikers and mountain bikers have discovered its attraction.  I like the solitude of the woods, the quiet.  It is nice to be alone, and this short section of trail allows that.

I also choose this path because it holds a section of hemlock, a dark cavernous stand of trees that have so far avoided being cut like many of the others in Connecticut.  The way they deflect the sunlight from reaching the forest floor intrigues me.  The soft needles at their base lining the trail cushions each step.  Their size places me back decades for the brief moment I race through their natural hallway in the forest.  By the time I arrive each day at this section about a mile and a quarter into the trail, I have usually emptied my mind and daydreaming starts, my favorite moment of any run.  It is what I try to capture on each outing.

Another more intimate reason for enjoying this path is it helps me remember a friend.  It was here, along this section of path, from 1993 to 1998 I would run into Nick walking his labs, anywhere from a few dogs to a dozen.  3 or 4 times a week, 52 weeks a year, close to 5 years worth.  There were plenty of days when we just said a quick "hello", and passed each other.  There also were days when I would stop running and finish the miles hiking and talking with him.  Over time we became friends, two guys taking their dogs out into the woods each day.  I like to think that we shared some of the same reasons for sticking to that route.

Nick passed away unexpectedly in late summer of 1998, but every once in a while I bump into one of his sons walking the dogs along the trail.  It makes me smile to see one of his family members looping around the mountain over the same 3.5 miles he did thousands of times.  A real hit of sunshine, regardless of the weather.  Mostly though I don’t see anyone, but I know that Nick is still walking that ridgeline every day.  It is something I can feel.  He is still alive in the dirt, the trees, and the quiet sounds of the forest.  He left an imprint in that section of forest, at least on one person.  I continue to travel alone along the same path I had for a couple years shared with a friend, paying my respect.

Seasons change, I change, even the woods here change due to logging.  The routine for me hasn’t changed yet, though.  I have my reasons for looping along the abandoned Metacomet Trail on Mountain Road, West Suffield.  My choice comes down to solitude, to hemlock, and to a friend gone.  One is welcomed, one is trying to survive, and one is missed.

{04/26/00}