Reflection

Pushing Out

As I mentioned in my last post, a tease I called it, I do have plans to do many things in the next couple years all wrapped around my retiring next year.

It’s been a very difficult thing for me to accept and I know that for some, it’s hard for them to understand how retiring could be a difficult thing. For some, maybe, not for me, it’s been a difficult journey to acceptance.

Understand that as an American male Baby Boomer, we were taught by our Silent Generation parents to work hard. Remember, my parents’, in their lives went through the Great Depression as well as WWII, so they knew hardship. They definitely did not want us to experience the financial hardships that they’d seen.

So, when I was younger, if you were male, you went to school for some that included College for others they went into a trade but whichever route you took, the expectation was that you’d work hard, get married, buy a house, etc., etc. Most of all, you would save for tough times, be prepared. What they didn’t tell you was when you had kids, all the saving part got much more difficult.

So, like a Kentucky thoroughbred that had been trained to run, we were trained to work and I (we) did. Often gone too much and for too long, many times distracted and probably neglectful at home. But we were doing what we thought we were supposed to do.

Suddenly, or so it seemed to me, I was contemplating retirement. I felt and still feel selfish thinking about not working, it’s an alien concept. After all, I started working officially, where I was taxed and paid Social Security, when I was 14 and I worked mowing yards, bailing hay or something else probably since I was 8.

How could I just stop? How can I on Friday be at work and on Monday, not? How does one just turn that off? I have friends that have very successfully done this, and they’ve managed to enjoy themselves and stay busy, I expect that I will too.

There’s also the financial security that working brings, now, you’re on your own and you hope that you’ve saved, invested and planned properly. My luck, some financial planner will stumble across this and I’ll be inundated with solicitations with offers to help, for a fee.

So now, I wasted your time explaining my retirement angst all of which changes nothing so as I’ve thought about it over these many months, if I’m going to do this, there’s no point in agonizing over it and boring my friends to tears.

Years ago, I took skydiving lessons. As a SCUBA Instructor and diver, you have to trust your training and equipment. The difference between the two are that gravity is real. I’ve done swimming assents from over 60 feet, and I could probably could have made it from deeper in a pinch.

I told a friend about stepping up to the door on the plane the first time you’re not jumping tandem. At some point, you must trust that you’ve prepared and that your equipment is good and push out of the plane. So, late next year, I’ll be pushing out.

Hopefully, that will free me up to pursue other more exciting (in a good way) things that I’ve wanted to do but never had the time because suddenly, time won’t be an impediment anymore.

On a positive note, I’m healthy, adventurous, willing, and hopefully in a financial situation that will allow me to enjoy my retirement and contribute in some meaningful way during that time.

Finally, why this in a blog that started out about the Camino? Because for some of us, life is the Camino. We’re all on the Way.

Super Ball

It’s been a long time since my last post, six months approximately which in Blogging Land is the kiss of death. Fortunately, I write mostly for myself, and I have no interest in monetizing the site so…it’s been six months.

Really, the decline began well before April. Like everyone else in the world, the enduring pandemic was taking its toll on me both mentally and emotionally. Luckily, I’ve had no one seriously ill with the virus but seeing the tragedy as it took and continues to take its toll was/is exhausting.

Seeing the negative tilt my writing was taking prompted me to take a time out. So, it’s been six months.

Anyone who’s read this blog before knows of my renewed interest in meditation and I’m happy that I have incorporated the practice into my daily life, I have found it to be very helpful in navigating the negatives but more importantly the daily aspects of my life, being or attempting to be a better person each and every day.

I had an experience recently that was totally new to me. Generally, I meditate on my own but sometimes I use an App called Calm which offers me some guidance on my technique but also ideas on my meditation. Sometimes more serious, sometimes lighter and fun.

Jeff Warren, who describes himself as an author and meditator is one of the guides on the Calm App who I enjoy. He’s quite good at simplifying the process, which is actually quite simple but I, like many seem to make it more complicated than it should be.

Jeff hosted a guided meditation that he called Super Ball. I guess he had me at the name alone. As a child, almost everyone I knew had a Wham-O Super Ball. If you don’t know this toy, it’s a densely packed rubber ball that when thrown down, it would bounce amazingly high. And being a young boy at the time, hitting it with a baseball bat was exquisitely cool, a home run every time. I digress.

In the meditation, he asked me to think like a Super Ball. On the inhale, I was compressing the ball like throwing it down. On the exhale, the ball was expanding and bouncing very high. As I did this, I was, in my mind, bouncing as if I was on a trampoline or becoming the Super Ball.

What happened next was extraordinary. As I took a long slow breath, compressing the ball, I held it for what seemed like a long time and then slowly started to exhale. At that moment, the ball/I decompressed, and I felt as if I was accelerating, exploding but in a good non-harmful way. There was no sound, no pressure like a G-Force there was just calm and acceleration.

While it seemed to have lasted for a long time, I’m sure that it was only seconds maybe less. But in that time, however long it was, I felt total peace and a oneness with all things. It was far more involved and at the same time simple than what I’ve tried to describe here. When I opened my eyes, I became aware that I was smiling. This type of experience has never happened to me before.

I shared this experience with my friend Katja (you should visit her Camino site) who is a Yoga instructor and knows far more about the practice of meditation than I do. She welcomed me to the acceptance that the mind can do anything if we allow it to.

So, you may or may not believe this. You may have experienced something like this before. You may wonder why I’m writing about this and more importantly, why am I reading it. All that’s okay. It’s there if you want it and if not, that’s okay too.

I hope to get back to my routine of writing my blog. Lots of things on the horizon for me in the next 12, 18, 24 months to dream about, write about and may fear a bit.

A bit of a tease, hopefully a return to Europe next summer. Emersion Spanish language training in Mexico for a month. Extended stay in Italy, France or Spain. And a return to the Camino on parts of the Chemin d’Arles, Camino Aragonés and the Camino Francés. Maybe pick off a couple “S” countries while I’m at it.

More details in future posts. Feels pretty good to be back.

Hope

Most humans by nature I believe are hopeful beings. I’ve always considered myself as a glass half full kind of person, I always try to see the positive and if someone is acting in a negative or hostile way, I try to understand why, their circumstance. While I try, there are certainly times when I fail or sometimes they’re just jerks or the situation is just bad. Something you can’t fix so you I have to let them pass.

The last 12 to 14 months have been a real challenge for me and certainly for the entire world. While parts of the U.S. seem to be leveling out when it comes to the spread of Covid-19 there are pockets that can only be described as a 4^th wave.

Sadly, my friends in the EU and South Africa are seeing a new or continuing wave and are once again in some form of shutdown. To them, please stay strong.

As warm weather approaches here in Texas we’re also finally doing a good job of getting the vaccine in people’s arms, about 10 million of our approximate 30 million residents have received at least 1 dose of vaccine and sadly another 2.5 million got their immunity the old-fashioned way, they caught and survived Covid-19 and survived so that’s adds to the total population with some antibodies coursing through their veins.

Our case counts here are declining slowly and maybe one can begin to think about doing some things that were once normal. For me, being outside with my friends and maybe having a burger and beer after a long day’s hike is something that will be happening soon and on a regular basis, I hope.

Last weekend, my mask (a constant companion these days) and I went to REI a local co-op that sells outdoor supplies, it’s sort of my happy place, sad I know.

Anyone who’s hiked with me knows I wear a bandana. Bandanas are great and serve multiple purposes, they are not just to make me look stylish. The first bandana that I wore to Spain was named Batik and he decided he needed to stay at the end of the world after my first Camino.

Batik’s brother, Batik II is in the care of a good friend and I live vicariously through him whenever he gets to hike, wherever that may be. Batik III is alive and well, he goes on all my hikes.

So, in a hopeful mood, I found Batik IV and V. I didn’t really need two but there was this one lonely fellow sitting there all by himself which is probably why he was on sale so how could I dare leave him?

I can’t wait to take them out for a long hike, I’ll take them both as they’re fraternal twins and one can’t go and another stay, that would be unfair and thoughtless. As I think about them, I’m hopeful and I find myself smiling.

I haven’t smiled enough these last many months, none of us have probably so, I will continue to smile and look ahead not back. Me and the boys.

Free at last!

For the first time since Covid-19 became a reality here in the U.S., I’m beginning to experience something that approximates normalcy or at least something that passes for normal.

The weekend before last, my friend of 40 years, Leighton, had his birthday. It would be impolite to say which birthday but, he’s had a lot of them. Renee, his wife, had planned a kayaking trip down the Trinity River and a box lunch picnic afterwards. Even though everyone attending had be vaccinated, it was still planned to be outdoors.

The weather on the 20^th was cool and windy, not ideal for kayaking so we postponed that event, but she did still have a birthday celebration on the 21^st with all of his friends and family who could make it.

As I mentioned, everyone in attendance had be vaccinated by this time so we decided that for this event it would be mask optional. I guess as some point, you just have to let go and step out the door of the airplane and trust your parachute, which we all did.

Many of these people were in the last group meeting that we had the first weekend of March in 2020, just before the stay-at-home order and all of the other joy of the past year.

What I missed most during this time was being close to my friends. Hugging, touching and being within close proximity to them. I’d lost the sense of community over the last 12 months. This lunch was a huge emotional release for me, them too, I think.

This past weekend, we finally took that kayak trip down the Trinity river. I told my friend Katja via a text that it was the most normal day I’d had in over a year. For a brief time, a group of friends who enjoy being outside, together, were able to do just that.

Kayaking by its nature is spatially distancing but, it didn’t feel contrived or forced. We wore our masks in the van to the put in but then, free at last! We laughed, enjoyed one another’s company and soaked in the glorious sunshine. For 2.5 hours, Covid-19 never entered my thoughts. This trip was an emotional and psychological cleansing. One that was long past due.

We finished up with burgers and beers at Twisted Root Burger and if anyone is counting, I had the Vegebond (that’s for MGS the vegetarian vagabond). More importantly, even though we wore masks inside, sitting there on the patio with my friends talking about anything and everything (except CV-19), we all agreed this felt as close to normal as it gets.

I hope I have many more days like this, so many that we’ll forget about the loneliness and isolation of the past year. I hope that my friends around the world will soon also enjoy days like this.

And, if I were a person who prayed, I would pray that this is not an illusion and that we never return to the sadness and despair of the past year. I’m not but hopefully my friends can pick me up here.

Guilt?

I’ve now received the second dose of the Moderna vaccine after driving another 150 miles round-trip to Granbury, Texas to get it. The process was much easier this time and the actual vaccination was absolutely painless, I did not feel the needle at all. Neither of us had any complications of consequence. The first dose there was a little soreness at the injection site. The second dose I had some body aches and joint stiffness (beyond the usual) the next day which lasted 4-6 hours. All are “normal” possible side effects.

While I’m happy to have been lucky enough to qualify for, locate a site to get the vaccination and to have now almost completed the 2-shot regimen, I’m feeling a bit guilty.

I’m not sure why I feel guilty, I didn’t do anything wrong; I went by the rules in place for each group and struggled with the arcane and sometimes idiotic sign-up process as did everyone else, I still have this nagging sense of guilt.

I feel a bit guilty as I watch other counties around the world continue to struggle, as we are, with getting people vaccinated. I feel guilty because we have the vaccine when most of the world does not.

I feel guilty because here in the U.S. we made it so complicated and so time consuming that many people didn’t have the time, technical knowledge or even access to the technology to find a working site or sites or to navigate those sites if they found one. Some can’t get to a mass vaccination site and there’s really no assistance for them to do so other than a rag-tag volunteer system. In many cases these people are also in groups that are hardest hit by this plague.

I feel guilty that the system created an immediate entitlement. Those who have money, were younger, had technical knowledge and access to technology and those who had easily accessible transportation. Accessible transportation in the U.S. generally means access to a private car.

I’m not wealthy but I’m better off than many. I worked hard all my life for what I have but higher income still provides a natural advantage. And even while I’m older than some, I do have technical knowledge and access to technology, primarily the internet. Many older people do not. I also have access to transportation which is good because I had to do two 150-mile round trips to get both doses of the vax.

What about those who don’t have money which makes many of the other items I listed more likely. So, I guess I feel guilty that my un-sought privilege sort of automatically put me towards the front of the line. While I’m happy to have completed my course of the Covid-19 vaccination, I worry about those who have not whether they’re down the street or on the other side of the world.

How do we level the playing field? How do we insure that if we ever make it out of this viral mess, when the next one comes along that it doesn’t play out the same way? I have no answers and I feel guilty about that too.

One final thought. The Vax has not changed my habits. Even though Texas opened up 100% (bad idea) and we have no mask mandate (another bad idea) I still don’t go out for indoor dining, I avoid crowds and I still wear a mask. So, the vax is not the end of our worries and the world is not anything like it was before Covid-19 but is is a lot like it was last month.

Adios, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye!

What a brutal year 2020 has been and, sadly, I expect that 2021 will begin very much as 2020 ended. We could all use a break but, many of us are willing to do nothing to earn one.

This time last year, Covid-19 was something that was happening in China with isolated outbreaks in Europe. The Ass-Clown who will soon be the former President was as usual, lying to the American people and himself.

Susan and I would soon be leaving for New Orleans to meet our friends from New Zealand, Carol and Letina. We had a great long weekend and it was one of the last fun things that we did.

February brought a quick day trip to Huntsville to meet Chris, Steve and Madison as they prepared for their soon to be cancelled trip to Spain. I know the cancellation really took the wind out of Chris’s sails. No one could imagine what was lurking just around the corner.

March brought the diagnosis that my father had Cancer, a rare and aggressive form. He became very ill just as the first wave of CV-19 was washing over Texas. A very sad and hard time for my family.

March also brought the first stay-at-home order which was certainly new to everyone. One of the last times we met friends was the weekend before the S-A-H was in place, we went to celebrate March birthdays at Café Momentum.

Through April and May, the new reality set in. No cars on the streets, walkers were out which I hope is one of the things that we continue after all of this. I hope we get out more and drive less, without the masks would be nice.

Mid-June, my father passed away. I’ve covered that in earlier posts. Birthdays and holidays have been hard. I know that time will take the jagged edges off my pain but, right now it still hurts.

Summer offered a brief reprieve but probably set us up for what was to come. While the environment was a bit safer, warmer, more outdoors, people let down their guard and some believed it was a hoax. Some still do.

In the U.S. and probably the rest of the World, our attention turned to the upcoming elections, an opportunity to right a mistake made in 2016, a serious mistake. Still, ignorant politicians downplayed the virus and forced people to stand in long lines to vote. They did this, risked their health to be rid of Donald Trump.

Now, after Thanksgiving and Christmas where people just couldn’t no, wouldn’t stay home wave upon wave of illness has beset the United States as well as the rest of the world. Hospitals are full and care will soon be rationed. If I were a petty man, I’d say that if you did nothing to protect yourself, you go to the tent in the parking lot and we’ll do the best we can. I realize that’s not a compassionate thought but still…

So 2020, a dire year in the big picture. However, I have found positives. I hope to focus on them in the coming months.

First, with help and guidance I’ve rediscovered the value of meditation. While I’ve dabbled in in almost all my life, I missed the real value. Instead of using it as a response to a problem or issue, I’m trying to adopt it as a more holistic part of my life. So far, I like the results and stay tuned.

As I’ve written often, I’ve accepted that I too am a spiritual person. My spirituality probably would not be recognized by a religious person who does not know me, it has nothing to do with any divine being. It has to do with me and who I am and where I fit in the world and how I can be a better person in this world. It’s about acceptance, caring, calm and joy. I’m sure that my religious friends may recognize some of these things, the difference is that I am responsible for my actions both good and bad.

I know that I’ve both failed and succeeded in my friendships and that I must work harder at this. That’s a good thing, we sometimes take these things for granted. I won’t again.

I’ve learned or was reminded not to take people and opportunities for granted and to cherish every moment. As I write this, I’m sitting in a hospital room with a friend who’s sadly suffering from a fall. Cherish each moment.

Finally, I’ve come to peace with my decision to retire in a couple years…I hope I have anyway. I suppose I’ll have time to reflect on my decision soon.

While 2020 has sucked, if you look hard enough and reevaluate what is good and bad, there are always little gems to be found. Sometime they’re personal and harder for others to see. Other times, they’re obvious for all to see.

Yes, 2020 had some good aspects but, I am really looking forward to 2021, it has to be better…please.

Be the storm

As we approach the end of an incredibility challenging year, I’ve begun reflecting on 2020, the year of COVID-19. And while there are many things to be negative about, far too many, I can’t help but think about how others have dealt with adversity.

The Casa Ivar site (and others) is a place where Pilgrims, past, current, future and those who only dream can gather to pass on knowledge from our experience. Future Pilgrims can ask questions to benefit from the experience of those who came before them.

It’s a place where those interested in the religious history and offerings of the Camino can bond and find community. For the non-religious or those looking for a beautiful outdoor experience, it’s a place to learn and share.

For me and those like me, I’ve discovered that I’m not the only person who found and understood spirituality in a way I did not before. This was possible because someone took the time to listen and share. You may not believe in fate but that’s what led me to the Camino in 2017.

One thing that we all have in common is the 1000-year history of souls walking from their homes and trekking, for whatever reason and maybe reasons unknown, across Spain to Santiago de Compostela.

They did it, in most cases with literally nothing more than what they had on their backs. They walked barefoot or in crude sandals. They were preyed upon by thieves and bandits. They survived malnutrition, disease, and pestilence.

Fortunately, most of us cannot claim the same difficulties but, we, in our modern ways endured our own hardships. Those of us who have walked the Camino Francés or any of the other Caminos certainly saw or met Pilgrims suffering physically, mentally, spiritually or emotionally.

Many of us felt the pains brought on by 30 plus days of walking towards Santiago. Blisters, sprains, illness, and fatigue. For me, sore knees were my primary complaint.

But most of us journeyed on and persevered and we rejoiced, each in our own way, as we walked down the steps, bagpipe music washing over us, and into the Praza do Obradoiro.

A few may have been unimpressed; I don’t understand how but I accept their reality. Most of us were full of awe. The completion of a true pilgrimage for some. For others, an accomplishment that they may have thought was beyond their ability. For me, a journey that I did not know at the time that was unfinished and never ending.

Now, how did this diverse group accomplish this feat. How did people from Spain, Germany, the United States, Korea, Russia, Brazil and dozens of other countries survive, prosper, laugh, share and support one another? What led them to the Camino?

Many believe there is divine guidance along this Way. Maybe the Camino attracts the type of personalities who are naturally more social, amenable, caring or forgiving. There are though dozens of other possibilities and all reasonable explanations.

For me, while all of the above are viable, the common thread is that we all shared the same goal. Our reasons were as diverse as the nationalities and personalities of those on the Camino. But we were all walking in the same direction and towards the same place.

So, how does any of this relate to 2020, the year of COVID-19? Sadly, even some of us who are veterans of the Camino have forgotten that spirit and instead have seen only the dark side of 2020.

We want to go out. We don’t want to shelter in place. We don’t want to wear a mask. I think we can all say that we do and don’t want to do these things but, we must.

Like it or not, we’re all on this journey together. And whether we realize it or not, we’re all headed in the same direction. I can say with some confidence that we will all rejoice, in our own way when we finally reach the end and enter that far off plaza which is the end of this pandemic.

In my darkest moments, I think of that goal. I look forward to going back out, with friends and without a mask. Until then, and metaphorically, I keep walking west with the sun at my back and my shadow leading the way.

I help those that I can. I accept help when I need it. I take care of myself and I think beyond myself. I can do this because I know there is light at the end of the tunnel.

There’s a quote by Jake Remington that goes like this: Fate whispers to the warrior. “You cannot withstand the storm.” The warrior whispers back. “I am the storm.”

As we walked across Spain, the warrior in us got us over the mountains. The warrior pushed us to take that next step, descend that steep hill. The warrior accepted additional burdens when required.

So now, as we enter a difficult winter, I choose to be the warrior. I will and we will persevere because, we are the storm, if we choose to be.

Be strong, be safe and we’ll soon hear the faint sound of bagpipes in the distance.

You’ll Never Walk Alone

Even with the best spin, 2020 has been an exceptionally bad year and sadly, it appears that 2021 will get off to a difficult start as well.

The world, challenged by the novel Corona Virus-19 has faced death, illness, separation, depression, and economic pressures amongst other things. Amidst all of this, it is sometimes easy to forget that the “normal” challenges of life go on.

For many, the nutritional challenges that they live with have been compounded. The economic impact worldwide has hit some segments of the economy much harder than others, many of whom are always working on thin margins.

Small businesses, restaurants, cafes, bars and hotels have disappeared, many permanently taking the people and families who ran them down with them. For those of us who are veterans of the many Caminos, the albergues, bars and farmacias that we and future Pilgrims depend upon may never recover. The Camino is a symbiotic environment, when on partner suffers, the other does as well.

Over the past 10 months, many of us have suffered loses not directly related to the virus but certainly impacted by it as loved ones became sick with non-COVID-19 related illnesses which required them to be treated in an environment of isolation and heightened fear. Some recovered, others did not. Many families never got to mourn or celebrate these lives lost because of restrictions on gatherings and physical distancing.

And, not to forget, the front-line workers. Doctors, nurses, medical assistants, and those who make our medical facilities work are taxed beyond any capacity which can be sustained.

Yes, 2020 has been one Hell of a year.

I was listening to some of my music recently when I came across a song performed by Brittany Howard, formerly of Alabama Shakes called You’ll Never Walk Alone. This song has been around for a long time, written by Oscar Hammerstein and Richard Rogers and performed originally by Gerry and the Pacemakers in 1963.

The song is about perseverance both individually and collectively. As I listened to it, it immediately struck a chord with my inner Pilgrim. Climbing over the Pyrenees from St. Jean and down the steep valley to Roncesvalles. Over the Alto del Perdon. Across the Meseta on sore knees. Up into Villafranca del Bierzo when the thermometer at the Farmicia said 40 (104 F). Up to O’C and finally, across Galicia to Santiago.

All done by personal perseverance, support and help of all sorts, both received and given along the way. All of us who have walked the Way know this. For those who have not yet made that journey, you’ll know it too, soon.

So here we are in a world wracked by the COVID virus and it’s taking a mighty toll in many ways. Death, fear, isolation, anxiety, anger, sadness, depression and many other sad and freighting emotions. After all this time, it’s easy to feel sorry for ourselves.

Some may ask; why is God doing this? Why is this happening? When will it ever end? Gods not doing this. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s certainly not a hoax. It’s a virus.

We, as people, humans who occupy this planet we call Earth are not under some alien attack. We’re facing a pandemic. Not the first and not the last. We’ve been challenged before by wars, plagues and economic disasters and we got through them and we’ll get through this challenge too.

Our challenge is whether we get through it together or not. Do we do our part and maybe, more than our part or do we refuse, deny, point fingers and fear the unknown. Like the Camino, as I mentioned before, our world is a symbiotic place too. We flourish together or we suffer and possibly, perish together.

So, my friends, as we enter what will be a long and hard winter, take the hand (metaphorically) of a friend or stranger in need. Reach out and let someone know that you’re there and they’ll be okay. Tell someone that you love them. As difficult as it may be, resist the temptation to condemn those who may not believe in science or facts as the energy wasted in that effort, to me, can be spent more wisely elsewhere.

For all Pilgrims, whether you’ve walked the Camino de Santiago or not, the Pilgrim spirit lives within you. Be strong. If you’re a believer, stay faithful. If like me you’re a spiritual being, trust in the goodness of those who share this world with us. In these difficult times, be kind and thoughtful. Most of all, be tolerant and hopeful. Know that this bleak period will surely pass.

So, back to the song, I encourage you to listen to it, regardless of the artist performing it and I’ll leave you with this:

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark…

…Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone

Lost Maples…found self

After months of almost no outdoor activity, I finally got a long weekend of hiking in the Hill Country of Texas. For those who don’t know, the Hill Country is in south-central Texas west of Austin and San Antonio. It’s rough but beautiful country which looks dry but has many natural springs and spring fed rivers running through deep cuts and canyons. I think you either love it or hate it. I love it.

We spent our long weekend at the Lost Maples State Natural Area which is near Vanderpool. Vanderpool is basically a crossroads with a Post Office and a Catholic Church and that’s it.

Our cabin was about a mile from the park entrance and my friends, The Professors (Chris & Steve) were staying in their RV they call Ted about 3 miles away. The general social hub was our cabin which my friend and hiking buddy Ann shared.

This time of year, the weather is variable, and it certainly was on this trip. Friday was warm, 85/30 and partly cloudy. The clouds did burn off later in the day and the Texas sun did make its presence known.

The park is not huge, relatively, and has two primary trails, the West Trail and the East Trail with a smaller West Loop Trail and the East-West Trail which connects the trails. A short trail, the Maple Trail is the very scenic trail with a grove of Maple trees which are beautiful during the Fall. We started our day Friday on the Maple trail which parallels part of the East Trail before merging with it. A small stream and the Maple grove separates the two.

The beginning of the hike was relatively level as you walk along the very rocky path, limestone rocks and boulders are tread on, over and around. A fall would be painful, and your feet feel each step, even in good boots.

In Texas, you always have to keep your eyes open

This part of the hike rewarded us with getting to see Monkey Rock. This is a totally naturally occurring formation created by the limestone being eroded by both wind and water…it really does look like a monkey.

From there, we began a steep uphill climb, more like a scramble and over a relatively short distance, we climbed about 500 feet/150 m up the rocky face to the plateau. We discovered or, accepted that we were not in the condition that we once were. I was happy though that I did well and that my right knee gave me no problems.

From this high plateau, we could take in the incredible views in all directions with almost nothing man-made to interrupt the scene. This is what the Native Americans saw and what the Spaniards feared as they crossed this part of Texas looking for El Dorado.

The descent was more treacherous than the ascent and the trail that we saw from the top which looked easy, was not. The trail ended at a clear pool created by several springs making their way to the Sabinal River. The East-West trail took us to our car marking the end to an adventurous 4.5-hour hike. We were tired, a bit sore, hungry and I was looking for the best beer I’d ever had in the world, today.

As I mentioned before, the weather in Texas is quite variable this time of year and later in the evening, as we prepared fajitas and margaritas as cold front that was supposed to stall further north moved through the area bringing some mist, gusting winds and much cooler weather. The morning was going to be quite cool, about 49/10.

As promised, the weather was cool with low clouds and some light winds. A breakfrast of Gallo Pinot would be just what was called for. Gallo Pinto is a hearty rice and black bean staple from Costa Rica, its good. Becky and her friend Joy joined us and after breakfast, we left for the park.

To begin this hike, we would retrace part of our hike the day before up the East-West trail where we would branch off on to the West Trail. We’d walk gently up hill following a dry creek bed through a canopy of Oak, Big Tooth Maple, Bald Cypress and Sycamore trees.

As always, there was a steep climb up to the plateau and a short walk across the mesa and then a sharp decent into the Mystic Canyon, it is appropriately named. Deep down, in the quiet, you could hear the gentle gurgle of a hidden spring fed creek as it ran down the canyon. The limestone was carved by eons of water rushing past illustrating how dangerous it would be to be caught in a downpour and flash flood.

As we made our way gently downhill, through the trees and under-story, we came across a beautiful spring and pool with crystal clear, cool water. In this part of Texas, water meant life for all creatures and I’m sure this area was visited by all type of creatures including humans.

We relaxed and enjoyed the simple beauty and enjoyed the soothing sound of water running over the rocks and falling lyrically into the pool.

We could see through the trees that the sun was beginning to burn through the clouds, and it threw gentle shadows on the leaves of the forest floor. Light flickering here and there and darting from place to place. Lending more credence to the name, Mystic Canyon.

We began our walk out of this canyon with streams and fern lined grottos following the well-worn path to the spring pool where we once again found the East-West Trail and on to the parking area.

We sat and talked for a while, Becky and Joy left to explore the area and we left to clean up, have some lunch and figure out how to spend the rest of what had become a beautiful day.

Some may find it strange that Texas is the number 2 producer of grapes for wine after California and this are is full of vineyards and wineries. The area is very rocky and like parts of southwest France except it gets much hotter and the harvest occurs in July.

Near our cabin, the Lost Maples Winery called to us. Outdoors, in a shaded and physically distanced setting, we purchased a couple bottles of wine and wiled away the afternoon enjoying the autumn day, the sunshine and company, it was time well spent.

I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to Lost Maples, and I hope to return there soon, maybe with Leighton and Renee who stayed home and were working as volunteers at a voting place.

I needed this escape physically, mentally and emotionally. 2020 with CV-19 and the election here in the U.S. has taken its toll. A year lost to CV-19, separation and fear add up to a lot of stress.

But, with that said, I want to leave you with 10 seconds of calm…

10 Seconds of Calm

The Rock

Anyone who is still paying attention knows that I have not written in a while, which may or may not be a good thing. I just have not had much to say and certainly not much that was interesting or worth writing about.

It seems that Covid-19 fatigue has settled in on me and I’m finding it hard to shake. Summer has turned to fall and soon I fear as Charles Dickins penned, it will be “the winter of despair”. Sadly, there was no “spring of hope” before it and maybe not next year either.

I know that some of my outlook is colored by the death of my father. We spread his ashes south of here along the shore of Lake Whitney, a place that for whatever reasons, is special to all of us. Before the brief ceremony, I walked along the shore with my grandson’s, watching them play and throw rocks into the choppy waters, much as my father did with me almost 60 years ago. His ashes are spread near where my mother’s parents’ ashes are spread.

My mother asked if we (my siblings and I) wanted some ashes to spread privately, my sister said yes, my bother no and I told my mom I’d find a rock to take with me on my return to the Camino, that would be my private moment.

Lot’s of things have come to an end this year; general happiness seems to be a victim of CV-19. There is a song, I can’t remember the name, but a verse goes something like this; Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. It didn’t say that the new beginning would be happy, I guess when I heard that song, I assumed that it would be happy but, as I write this, I realize that it may be a sad new beginning. The danger with assuming…

Lot’s of things to be unhappy about this year. I am an optimist; I do see the glass as half full. I try to see the positive whenever possible. But I must be honest, 2020 is making that very difficult, it is trying my soul.

So, the positive for me today is that I found a rock for my father at a place that he enjoyed and one which spoke to me. I have time now to think and dream about where I will place it on my next trip to the Camino, maybe in the Pyrenees looking down into Spain. Or, along the solitary way which is the Meseta. Possibly where the Atlantic crashes against the shore at the end of the World. I don’t know where but, I’m feeling a bit of joy just thinking about it.

We have very little control in the events of our lives. Making new friends, losing old friends, life, or death, the weather. We usually can’t control events like these. I, we, can control how we respond to them, do we accept them or resist these changes. So, I regain control by acknowledging that I’m not really in control and like everyone else, I’ll do the best I can with the cards I’m dealt.