Tuesday, March 2, 2010

The Last Snow Shoe

…required no snowshoes. Only hiking boots and gators, which made me feel less intense than I wanted to feel, so I brought my ski poles (and my trusty Opinel!). Nothing like gear to make you feel athletic.

I did a loop around Lake Shaftsbury—no other humans in sight. It was a balmy 46 degrees, so I tied my hat’s ear flaps on top of my head so I could hear the birds. And, you know, any bears waking up early from hibernation. (I may have, at one point during the hike, pictured myself fighting for my life with ski poles.)

Hiking out west, I’m like Mitch’s girlfriend (Vicki?) in Parent Trap—clapping sticks together and singing just so the bears know I’m coming. We all live in a yellow submarine!

I’m more comfortable hiking solo on the East Coast, and most of the time wish I could be invisible. I sent some geese flying from a newly thawed pond today, and felt a nagging pang of human-guilt. Millay expresses the idea of wanting to be an accepted part of the natural landscape beautifully in her poem, The Fawn.

Certitudes: I have a thing for Millay, and I suffer from predation anxiety.

1 comment:

  1. Dammit! This is anticlimatic now, but the only thing better than 'wanna be a bawla' is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlLsbL2LJKw