~~Lily, just before we took off down the trail yesterday.~~~
A few years ago, Bill and I were walking up a trail in Yellowstone National Park. At the beginning of the trail was a huge sign warning that we were in grizzly country.
After no more than a quarter mile, we encountered a bear, no more than 20 feet away from us on the trail. It was not a grizzly, but it was a bear. We looked at it. The bear looked back at us and went on about its business.
I have been afraid of bears ever since I was a very young girl. My brothers, at that time, further enforced my fears by picking opportune times when I was walking alone in the woods to scare the beejeebers out of me by hiding in the bushes and letting out loud, vicious growls.
I ran, as fast as I could to safety.
Since those days, I've been a fraidy cat in the woods, rarely getting out of sight from whoever accompanies me.
I don't go alone.
That day in Yellowstone, I remained very much afraid throughout the entire two-mile walk to a river where we did some fishing. The worst part of the trip was that we had to come back, and surely that bear would still be there.
Well, it had left the area, and we walked by the spot unscathed.
Seeing the car at the end of the trail, I was overcome with relief. I proudly announced to Bill that I'd actually survived my fears for once.
He uttered a rather famous truism---if situations don't kill you, they build character.
Sounded good to me but it still didn't diminish my very real fears which often overcome my reason whenever I go to the woods.
A few years later, Bill, Annie and I were hiking a trail at the base of Mt. Rainier. It was a challenge. Every step of the way, we had to remain fully alert because of the constant network of witches knots.
We reached a point where Annie told me of an October afternoon just before dusk when she had hiked the trail and had heard a very scary noise just around the bend.
She turned around and ran off the mountain. I don't know how she managed to avoid tripping and falling on her face.
I asked her how she could do such things, all by herself. "Aren't you afraid?"
"Yes," she said, "but I have two choices. I can sit in my apartment, bored to tears, or I can do stuff like this and have some good memories."
That struck me as a pretty good way to live one's life. The alternative of "sitting on the couch" is not very appealing, but too many times we do that very thing and miss so much of what's available to us in life.
All this leads to a small triumph which I experienced yesterday. Lily and I went solo on a trail ride.
I planned for yesterday to be the day. At first, it looked like we'd be rained out, but suddenly, the moisture stopped and the sun began to shine on a newly washed earth.
I had not been deathly afraid of embarking on this experience, but I had felt cautious, with a few scenarios swirling around in my mind----the major one being that a moose, elk, deer or even a scary bear would come running from the bushes, scare the beejeebers out of Lily, cause her to run away in flight as horses often do, and catching me offguard and eventually off Lily in a heap on the ground.
Not a good scenario for an old lady of 62, but I made myself go forward with the plan---especially since I had just talked to my friend Verna Mae Davis.
She turned around and ran off the mountain. I don't know how she managed to avoid tripping and falling on her face.
I asked her how she could do such things, all by herself. "Aren't you afraid?"
"Yes," she said, "but I have two choices. I can sit in my apartment, bored to tears, or I can do stuff like this and have some good memories."
That struck me as a pretty good way to live one's life. The alternative of "sitting on the couch" is not very appealing, but too many times we do that very thing and miss so much of what's available to us in life.
All this leads to a small triumph which I experienced yesterday. Lily and I went solo on a trail ride.
I planned for yesterday to be the day. At first, it looked like we'd be rained out, but suddenly, the moisture stopped and the sun began to shine on a newly washed earth.
I had not been deathly afraid of embarking on this experience, but I had felt cautious, with a few scenarios swirling around in my mind----the major one being that a moose, elk, deer or even a scary bear would come running from the bushes, scare the beejeebers out of Lily, cause her to run away in flight as horses often do, and catching me offguard and eventually off Lily in a heap on the ground.
Not a good scenario for an old lady of 62, but I made myself go forward with the plan---especially since I had just talked to my friend Verna Mae Davis.
She's an 82-year-old lifelong adventurer, and she told me about her recent solo hike just before dark around Round Lake. The conversation included once again that theme of "not wanting to sit home being bored" when you could be slightly afraid and having fun.
Verna Mae's story emboldened me all the more that if she could do this, certainly I could too.
Well, I'm thrilled today to announce that no critters scared Lily. Lily did not dump me in the trail. We went on our ride. She had some new experiences for a young horse. She never scared me for one moment. I saw beautiful scenes along the way, and as we returned to the trailer nearly two hours later, both alive and unscathed, I felt like I'd gained a little dose of character.
A beautiful ride, indeed, and some wonderful memories.
Thanks, Bill, Annie, and Verna Mae. Your wisdom sustains this ol' coward.
And to Lily, "I love my horse . . . I love my horse . . . I love my horse!"
Verna Mae's story emboldened me all the more that if she could do this, certainly I could too.
Well, I'm thrilled today to announce that no critters scared Lily. Lily did not dump me in the trail. We went on our ride. She had some new experiences for a young horse. She never scared me for one moment. I saw beautiful scenes along the way, and as we returned to the trailer nearly two hours later, both alive and unscathed, I felt like I'd gained a little dose of character.
A beautiful ride, indeed, and some wonderful memories.
Thanks, Bill, Annie, and Verna Mae. Your wisdom sustains this ol' coward.
And to Lily, "I love my horse . . . I love my horse . . . I love my horse!"
1 comment:
Can you feel me patting you on the back? What a great story!! I remember seeing bears within walking distance of our house on Cedar St. up towards Baldy Road I think it was. I wasn't scared because I was bombing around town in my mint green Studebaker Lark-tank. haha -the bear would be scared!
I can relate to hiking alone in the mts. and getting the heebeejeebees. Sometimes the silence is scary! And then if you hear a real noise, like a snapping twig under a BIG foot lurking behind you in the brush, the adreniline rush sends you running to safety! I have a fear of heights and did a hike up Steamboat in the Big Horns. There is a drop off and a trail too narrow for even my size 6 feet. I had to spend a lot of time coaching myself to make it past that, and when I got to the top and looked at the view, I threw my arms to the sky and felt like I was the queen of the world!
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