Stillness

I'm laying on my backpack looking up at the stars and watching the strobes on aircraft high overhead. The starry sky reminds me of Block Island - in between the stars are more stars - like they're never ending. I'm at the end of a hike in the Berkshires and just didn’t want the evening to end. I stopped a couple hundred yards from the parking lot and initially just looked up at the night sky. After a few minutes I squatted to give my legs a break. A little later I sat down on my butt and leaned against my pack. Now I've been here a half hour, laying flat out on the pack and feeling like I could stay here all night - if only I didn’t need to get home. As I breathe I can feel that I exhale completely. When I inhale it's just the amount that's needed, then a deep exhalation again.

Occasionally I hear an owl hooting. I hear crickets but they seem quieter and more subdued than the crickets at home.

I started out after a long day at work. I had an appointment this evening that I had to cancel and I found myself with the evening free. The idea of going for a hike has been in my head for weeks now. A stop at home to change my clothes and gather up some gear and I was at the trail by 6:00pm. I knew of an overlook forty-five minutes away which I could get to before sunset. I had a hurried pace which I couldn't seem to slow down even when I felt a hot spot on my left heel. I knew it was a blister forming, but I wouldn't take care of it until arriving at the overlook.

The trail runs along a ridge and it's entirely in the woods until it suddenly opens into a clearing. Reaching the overlook I saw clear skies in all directions. I found a place to sit, take off my boots and socks and I started to cut out some moleskin to protect the new blister. Better to get it done right away, then I could have dinner while the sunset. I watched the sun get lower and lower, took some pictures - and then missed the last glint of sunlight as I chowed down on cheese and crackers.

When I got ready to go I thought I'd have twenty minutes before I needed a headlamp, but as soon I re-entered the woods it was obviously too dark to walk without lights. Sometime in my past I would have felt some hesitation, some nagging doubt about "what if something goes wrong" walking in the dark. These days I'm prepared, I've got the equipment to be safe overnight. The risks seem to be under control so no worries. Within ten minutes I'm thinking how I'll soon be back at the car and the adventure will be over for the evening.

So that's how I found myself in the dark under the stars at 9pm. Why would I be in a rush to leave? The only word I could think of to express what I felt inside while laying there was "stillness".