Sometimes adventure looks like guys in their 40s meeting early on a Saturday morning, last minute, to skateboard the newest pavement in town.
Sometimes adventure looks like following a strange urge to drive on a Sunday afternoon to take a picture of a Celtic cross at a church up the road.
Sometimes adventure looks like picking a place you’ve never been and making a weekend road trip of it, just for the experience of it, and to make what Brene Brown calls “picture memories.”
Sometimes adventure sounds like saying “Here I am,” in following a path that you don’t know where it will lead, but you know it is laid out for you to walk.
Sometimes adventure sounds like taking a chance, starting something new, whether in business, art, career, love, fitness–something you aren’t sure will work, but you know you have to find out.
Sometimes adventure feels like showing up at the blank canvas, or for the morning run, or at the gym, or in front of the blank page, or the studio, even and especially on days where you don’t feel like it, on the way to something bigger, and finding a reward that you wouldn’t have found if you hit snooze, or came up with an excuse not to do it.
Sometimes adventure feels like letting go.
Sometimes adventure looks like helping a friend move.
Sometimes adventure sounds like sharing stories and connecting with someone.
Sometimes adventure looks like stretching out an afternoon, just to have a little more time together, to see the sun on the river.
Sometimes adventure sounds like daydreaming with someone and then trying to make daydreams things that actually happen.
Most of the time, adventure is a state of mind. It’s being open to possibilities. It’s being fully present in the moment, right now. It’s being surprised by something simple, something everyday, something that could be brushed off as ordinary.
There is adventure in the everyday, which is where we spend most of our lives. There is adventure in the epic, the unknown, the new. There is adventure in making the everyday new. I never get tired of T.S. Eliot writing:
“We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.”
T.S. Eliot, “Four Quartets”
Sometimes adventure looks like planting a garden.
Sometimes adventure sounds like putting a dog and two teenagers in a car and picking somewhere to walk outside on a nice day and hearing what life looks like to them.
Sometimes adventure looks like parking in a different place at a state park on a beautiful morning and taking all the log crossings you can find along the way.
Sometimes adventure sounds like getting excited for opening day–of baseball season, of rockfish season, of whatever it is that is coming that puts a smile on your face.
Sometimes adventure looks like trying out for something, or trying something you’ve never done before, at whatever age you are now.
Sometimes adventure looks like spending a sunny Sunday spring cleaning the yard.
Sometimes adventure smells like a backyard fire pit on a clear night.
Sometimes adventure feels like seeing buds on a magnolia tree that you know is soon going to burst into 10 days of breathtaking blossom.
Sometimes adventure sounds like laughter that rolls through everyone in the room.
Sometimes adventure feels like spending time with the right people.
I didn’t find Big Foot. Or an Indigo Bunting, for that matter, but neither of those things is the point. It’s about searching. More than that, it’s about being out there, and being grateful.
September has been a month of making the most of weekends and doing things that I’ve been wanting/meaning to do for some time. Earlier in the month, the girls and I drove to Asheville, NC, to catch up with friends who moved there three years ago. We hiked, played in streams, visited some breweries (not the girls), sat on decks and caught up, and I even got a happy hour, back porch haircut. It was a great reminder to stay connected to good friends and change the scenery.
After a spring and summer at home and working, September made for a second opportunity to do something different. I stumbled across the C&O Canal Trust. The canal and tow-path are so close to home and so cool–we would occasionally run along it for cross country practice at St. James School, and then I got a 26.3-mile taste of it as part of the JFK 50-Miler more than a decade ago. Future adventures will include staying in canal houses, but in this case, the Trust website pointed me towards canal towns. And in particular, to Shepherdstown, WV, the former stomping grounds of a friend, artist, and mentor of mine. And the weekend assembled itself upon finding Sundogs Bed & Breakfast.
I can’t sing enough praise about Shepherdstown or Sundogs.
Shepherdstown is a college town that reminds me of Chestertown, MD, here on the Shore, but if you put it in the West Virginia mountains. It’s cool, funky, with shops, cafes, restaurants, theaters, a weekend farmer’s market, all built around Shepherd University. And as cool towns do, Shepherdstown has a get-lost-in independent bookstore in Four Seasons Books. It’s still COVID time, there aren’t any sort of gatherings or events going on, and masks were the norm and required to go in anywhere.
For us, looking for a weekend to unplug, unwind, and recharge, it was more about being outside than in town, and Sundogs hit the spot.
When one of your B&B hosts is a horticulturalist who has designed and revitalized gardens for Dumbarton Oaks, The American Horticultural Society River Farm and George Washington’s Mount Vernon Estate, you can bet you are in for something incredible.
It’s maybe a 4 to 5-mile drive out of town, to a 46-acre retreat with trails running all over the property. The five rooms are named after dogs that the owners have rescued, and it’s a dog-friendly inn. Small B&Bs reflect the character, passions, and interests of the owners, and a horticulturalist who designs gardens and a NOAA meteorologist, who are both conservationists, animal rescuers, and fix vegetarian breakfasts for their guests in the morning.
Holly and I spent early mornings with coffee literally surrounded by hummingbirds, reading and bird watching, before hiking trails late mornings and early afternoons. I’m not much of a birder, but the list of birds I saw includes: Goldfinches, hummingbirds, Nuthatches, Tufted Titmice, Cardinals, Red-Bellied Woodpeckers, Downy Woodpeckers, Eastern Bluebirds, Carolina Wrens, Cormorants, Pileated Woodpecker, Red-Shouldered Hawks, and Cedar Waxwings.
Shepherdstown and Sundogs are both places I hope to return to. Which brings me to Indigo Buntings, birds that are around Sundogs, and I am sure were around us. It’s a common enough bird, even on the Eastern Shore where we live, I’ve just never really gotten good eyes on one (I may have seen one fly across the road into the woods while I was driving in Caroline County, it was the right blue, but I can’t count that).
We spent some time at Sundogs searching for Buntings, but not much time. We tried to learn and listen for the song, and walked the edge of the woods and trees in the field where they are often seen. But didn’t make it the focus of the weekend. Nor have I made it too big a focus of watching birds–just something that will be cool when it happens.
What it requires to be ‘in search of’ something is to be out there, to show up, to make the attempt, and that means something. A few years ago, I wrote about being in search of the Snow Bunting (Buntings are a theme), and so much of what I wrote there still stands. It’s more about being tuned in, mindful, and grateful for the search and for the experience. What it means is to get out in nature, to look around, to keep my bird feeders filled and notice who shows up.
As we gear up for fall, there are a number of adventures I am gearing up for, some physical, some mental, some spiritual.
One adventure coming this fall that has been more than a decade in the making is skateboarding the 26-mile Western Maryland Rail Trail in and around Hancock, MD. A friend read about the paved trail when we first found long distance longboarding/skateboarding, it’s just never materialized into an adventure. We’re looking to change that in early fall, likely with a camping/backpacking element to make the most of the trip.
The Western Maryland Rail Trail (WMRT) is a 26 mile long paved trail that stretches from a mile west of historic Fort Frederick State Park in Big Pool, Maryland to its western terminus at the Potomac River in Little Orleans, Maryland.
Spectacular river views, vistas of hardwood covered mountains exploding with color in the fall, rock formations, dramatic tunnels, transportation history and pristine wilderness all within a few hours drive from Washington, DC, Baltimore, MD and Pittsburgh, PA.
The WMRT is perfect for hiking, biking, inline skating (rollerblading) or, weather permitting, cross country skiing. One excellent feature is that the entire trail is handicap accessible. The trail is especially suited to families, novice cyclists (it’s almost completely flat), and for anyone seeking a pleasant, leisurely ride.
Biking is the most popular use of the WMRT, with 26 miles of paved trail. The excellent western section follows the rugged mountain terrain west of Hancock, offering great views of the Potomac and surrounding mountains, and no interstate noise!
The more time I spend skateboarding, the more I realize, for me, it’s not about doing crazy tricks or accomplishing epic trips that are hard to pull off–it’s about being outside, having fun, skating with friends, with wheels rolling on pavement. In the spirit of being “in search of,” it’s a way of being in search of fun/stoke that only requires you to do it in order to find it.
Adventures of the mind can happen daily. And as a book nerd, those are journeys I look forward to every morning with my coffee. And there is something just cool about mind adventures with a group of fellow readers. We’ve had group reads of Cormac McCarthy’s “Blood Meridian,” David Foster Wallace’s “Infinite Jest” (some actually finished that doorstop of a tome), and some of Thomas Pynchon’s “Mason & Dixon,” which also involved hiking to find Mason Dixon markers.
This fall’s first literary journey was inspired by the trailer for the forthcoming movie Dune. A fairly common view is that Frank Herbert’s epic novel is the best science fiction novel ever written. And I’ve never read it. So we have a group of five of us (so far, two of whom are English teachers, which speaks to the book being literarily legit) who are making the journey through the book. I am a little over 100 pages in, and I am looking for more time to read because it has pulled me in already. I am sure there will be more to come on this front. After Dune, I have been really looking forward to Robert Macfarlane’s “Underland.”
Another adventure of the mind and heart I have begun is reading and learning about Brother David Steindl-Rast, a Bendectine monk, who along with Thomas Merton, has been a big part of conversations in the Buddhist-Christian dialogue (for which Br. David was given Vatican approval in 1967). Through this pandemic time I have been a big fan of “A Network for Grateful Living,” without knowing much about its founder. Much more to come about Br. David. For any who would like to watch, here is a conversation he had with Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh about gratefulness. Each of them glow and laugh and remember, as if they were gratitude personified.
“We were doing peace, not demanding peace… If you are not able to be be peaceful and happy in every step, a peace march is not a peace march.”
Thich Nhat Hanh
The kind of “in search of” that is common to all of these things, is that to search, I have to show up. I have to be an active participant. And that is where the adventure is. Adventures in life, of the mind, and in gratitude.
What I need for 2017 is resolve, not resolutions. The resolve to continue some of the good things that got underway in 2016, and resolve to be better about getting to some of the things I left out. Resolve to continue to be grateful, to give back, to love, to follow God’s lead, and to smile.
I started 2017 with a five mile sunrise run and then church. The girls and I finished 2016, the stretch between Christmas and New Year’s with a Star Wars marathon–episodes one through seven, Anna’s request after seeing Rogue One–and will have to see if 2017 brings us some snow to get us outside.
As 2017 gets rolling, it’s worth looking back at some of the good from the past year, and some things to resolve to get after for the coming year. We’ll make the list go to 10, since top ten lists are the rage this time of year:
2016 (the year that was)
1. 2016 was a meat-free year for me, except for fish and seafood. Fancy people call that being a pescatarian. I call it trying to be less of a hypocrite. I’ve always been bothered by truckloads of chickens or pigs crammed into cages, driving by on the highway, and the whole notion of animals being raised for the sole purpose of being food. I don’t hunt, but I happily fish, and will clean and grill/cook, so trying to make my own diet more in line with how I operate in the world. It was a resolution I made at the beginning of the year to see how long I could stick to it. Year one is under the belt.
2. We welcomed Harper to our family. You can read more about that here. At the beginning of June, we rescued a six-ish month “Australian shepherd mix” with the help of Operation Paws for Homes, and our family and our hearts grew exponentially. One of the year’s best decisions.
3. I started writing. I have been writing/blogging for a number of years, but wasn’t making a point of really doing something with and about writing. That changed in 2016, both in starting this site, in writing a monthly article for Tidewater Times and in making a commitment to write and keep writing.
4. I let God into my life. I’ve always been a spiritually-minded person, have always been a searcher, and have always tried to live life the best I can. But 2016 was a calling and answering of a different kind. It has led to looking deeply into my heart, at life, at love, at God, and listening. It has been uncovering and recognizing something in my soul, which is in each of us, allowing the Holy Spirit and Christ to move freely and try to follow. It is not easy, I still mess up wholly, frequently, and am fully human. But I am trying to take my life, what talents I can offer, and time, to ignite and follow the passion and path that God has put in me. If you’ve been reading here, you may have noticed that. During 2016 I also found Christ Church Easton, a home church community, and have just begun my work as Assistant for Small Groups and Christian Education. I have a long way to go, but am learning and trying to make the most of every step.
2017 (the year that is beginning)
5. More silliness – it’s easy to get pulled in to high seriousness: work, deadlines, bills, money, schedules. But so many of my favorite moments are so easy to look past if I don’t make time and have the mindset. Anna running around the yard laughing with Harper chasing her; Ava dancing in the new year; leaf pile shenanigans; beach exploring and sea glass hunting; snowman building; taking and making the time to find simple reasons to laugh and smile.
6. More road trips – I wasn’t very good at this in 2016. A great Harper’s Ferry trip in April, but that isn’t enough when there are so many cool places in easy driving distance. My schedule is busier for 2017, so putting things on the calendar and making time for bits of wanderlust, from day hikes, to car camping, to skateboarding, to visiting national and state parks and historic sites. I didn’t do a good job with this in 2016, so it’s on me this year.
7. Less stuff – Watching a documentary on Netflix the other night called “Minimalism,” was a reminder that I need to own my stuff, not let my stuff own me. There wasn’t anything particularly earth-shattering, I try to keep “stuff” in check as it is, but “The Minimalists,” do a solid job of making some points that I might already know, but don’t always keep at the forefront of my thinking: “It’s not so much about financial gain as it is about financial freedom, which is the ability to wake up in the morning and spend your day as you see fit.” And “Love people and use things, because the opposite never works.” I want to remember in 2017, to focus less on the care and feeding of “stuff,” and more on the care and feeding of the soul.
8. More trails – Over the past 10 years of my life, trail running has given me incredible scenery, accomplishments, camaraderie, solitude, friendships, and put me in nature. I spent less time on trails in 2016 than I have in a long time. Some of that is because Sunday morning was my trail running time and that has become church time. I am glad to have church as a time for worship, reflection, and community. I also need to make other time for trail running and hiking. We pushed our Appalachian Trail across Maryland challenge into 2017. That’s one part of more trails.
9. More prayer – I try to pray every day, make a quiet time to talk to God, to show gratitude, to listen, to be still. I have a lot to learn and I know this needs to be a focus.
10. Dig deep – I made some steps in the right direction in 2016. I want 2017 to be a year for follow through, for resolve, for next steps. It is time to dig deep and keep at it. Whether in writing, in study, in leading small groups, in playing, at work, I have reached a place in life where I have a pretty good idea of what I need to be doing, what my calling might be, what I need to do for the girls, the things that make me deeply happy. Now it’s a matter of staying after it, while being mindful that things have a way of going in directions we don’t expect.
In the documentary “180 South,” Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard says, “The word adventure has gotten overused. For me, when everything goes wrong, that’s when adventure starts.” There is likely something to that.
A life well-lived is one that appreciates, finds, and embraces both the epic and the everyday. And sees that each lives in the other. There is a bit of both throughout the above list. So that’s my resolve for 2017: make room for, appreciate, and embrace the everyday and the epic. That’s an outlook for a lifetime.
I am suffering from a very specific form of road trip/wanderlust envy. For years I have told anyone that asks, daughters included, “Dad, if you could have any kind of car or truck you want, what would it be?” An old Land Cruiser. And the notion I’ve had is to take road trips; do bits and pieces of the country, with epic drives, of varying lengths and distances; from quick weekend strikes; to longer meandering treks.
And then I see Theron Humphrey, whose photography goes by This Wild Idea, doing exactly that. Granted, in my mind’s eye, my Land Cruiser is blue, though I am not that picky about color.
Part of what strikes me about his Land Cruiser camping, is that I have been feeling boxed in of late, like I need to stretch my legs and change scenery. Escape for a bit to recharge.
Travel brings power and love back into your life. – Rumi
Travel far enough, you meet yourself. – David Mitchell, “Cloud Atlas”
There are road blocks for the meandering, epic road trips. Kids, work, money, time–they all matter. But the shorter ones, whether for herons or just because, are doable, and like making time for writing, running, or anything that matters, if I want to do them, I have to make time and make them happen. I have always thought of road trips as having a soulful/spiritual aspect to them, a form of pilgrimage, and it’s time to pilgrim up.
For those of us inhabiting our time and space, there are maybe other ways to escape: rabbit holes. Many of my favorite people are daydreamers. It’s just how we are wired. Walking through town or out on a run, my mind wanders miles and years and light years farther than my body. But my short attention span kicks in, or reality calls me back. I never make it too far down the rabbit hole.
A daydream is a meal at which images are eaten. Some of us are gourmets, some gourmands, and a good many take their images precooked out of a can, absent-mindedly and with little relish. – W. H. Auden
It’s sad that Auden is right. If you are going to take the time to daydream, give it some thought. Connect to your dreams from when you were little, but dream them big. I need to let my mind wander and follow it. There is value to seeing where our daydreams lead, and where they lead us.
Road trips and rabbit holes can both lead us to the same place in the end: to a changed perspective, new thoughts, new eyes. Whether we climb a mountain, stand in a new stream, or see a new city, it is who we are and what we return to that lasts.
The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. – Marcel Proust
Herons are personal for me. It’s not easy to explain, but they are somehow a connection, a link to nature and the broader Universe. Mary Oliver calls a Great Blue Heron a “blue preacher.” If you’ve ever watched one–methodical, thoughtful, graceful, you can see why.
My connection to Great Blue Herons deepened when I was training for my first marathon. I could be struggling on a long, low energy run, see one sitting on Papermill Pond or some cove, and instantly feel energized, recharged. It happened often enough to be weird (in a cool way). It would make me smile as I pushed on. A heron run was a good run. And that still happens.
Great Blue Herons are flighty. They take off as soon as you get close to them. Their take offs and landings are so awkward and take enough time and effort that it makes sense for self-preservation why they would be quick to bolt. Lately my interest has been equally on watching the more versatile, cagey, and dexterous Green Herons–there is a rookery on Town Creek in Oxford and they are everywhere. On a lazy evening paddle, we watched one scamper along rip rap in step with us, looking for something to eat. I’ve been thinking about a Green Heron tattoo to keep my Great Blue company.
Peter Matthiessen traveled five continents searching for 15 species of cranes. His adventures are chronicled in the book, “The Birds of Heaven: Travels with Cranes.” I’m not as ambitious as Petey, nor do I have the time or budget to spread such a wide net. But I dig the notion as a model.
Sometimes I find putting my intentions out there makes me more accountable and more likely to make them happen. I’m making my scope regional–whether Eastern Shore, or Maryland, or Mid-Atlantic, we’ll have to see how it comes together. There will be road tripping involved. The goal is to find and see as many types of herons as can be found in the area. Word went out yesterday morning that a Tricolored Heron had been spotted in Grasonville. That’s the kind of occurrence to take note of.
I’m not a biologist, nor am I looking to make a documentary. I’m going to try for a more creative approach to whatever writing comes out of this, and take a carpe the diem, fun, road trip, and enjoy nature approach to looking for them.
We have a finite amount of time spinning around on the globe here. That’s a perfect reason for going after things that move us, connect us, ground us, inspire us. It’s time for me to expand on what it means to have or make a heron run.
