Often I want hikes to last longer than they do; I want time to slow. This could be for a variety of reasons: The view is so beautiful that the minutes, hours I have to take it in — It is never enough. Or the memories created at that spot, on that trail, on that mountain — They are ones I desire to hold onto because I know they will escape and fade, despite my attempts to grasp them. Or, like this day, I could want the hike to last for a more simple reason: To stretch time in the wilderness with my sister and fiance before life gets in the way again.
It’s April Fool’s Day — a time for jokes and pranks and hoaxes. A time to instill doubt, second-guesses, concern, dare I say a smidge bit of worry. A time when trusting individuals are turned to fools, and loyal individuals become tricksters. April Fool’s Day — a time when . . . let’s be honest . . . a time when Andrew proposed to me.
The farther we hiked, the more comforted we were in being alone. After forging the river, we had the forest to ourselves. We felt like children, darting across and splashing in the water, jumping on rocks, laughing. Life was innocent, light, carefree — another magical quality of forests.
This was our first snow hike, and it left us admiring the landscape, feeling appreciative to have winding trails and mountains like this one to climb.
This hike feel short, too quick — like the setting sun, which burst in color then sank into the water.