A Brief Interlude

I decided to escape civilization for a time this past weekend and drove off in the early morning to a hiking location halfway between Austin and Bastrop that I had read about. My visit to "McKinney Roughs" was not quite on par with my expectations, and yet, it still fulfilled its purpose…I believe – its purpose being stints of absolute solitude. This desire for solitude somehow became inseparably combined with my boyhood thirst for adventure as well.

Solitude found me for the period of approximately 270 minutes, with minor interruptions provided by three groups of horsewomen and men (one of which passed me four times), a lone hiker, a group of four hiking me, one couple, and several folks I assume were workers, as well as quite a number of classic campout eyesores. Unfortunately, the nearly all-encompassing tranquility seemed to extend to the wildlife as well. While small aviators alit often on branches, the animal paradise I had hoped to find apparently exists no longer. I did, however, notice a number of eagles, vultures, and the like, and nearing the end of my hike, a friendly armadillo. While optimistic at the outset, after several long pause-and-search sessions of trees to identify peculiar sounds, I realized that I was largely alone with the haunting creak of these trees. Finally, in regard to finding life on the trail, I was quite, curiously, disappointed at finding no gaping spider webs blocking my path (I contemplated bringing, and almost brought, an umbrella to clear a path – like a real woodsmen, but decided against carrying the awkward object). All that existed were endless lines of green trees and dead trees, and a few hybrids with decayed branches covered in greenish beardlike mosses. I would only find beauty in most places in a shadow or a strangely broken branch, once or twice a mile. The time was primarily spent for the sake of solitude, loving the fact that none were near (although I was never solitary enough to be able to yell without causing a vast search party, or fear), and where I could simply converse with myself, both mentally and aloud I’m ashamed to say. When there is (you hope) no one for miles, the occasional self-speak/song is acceptable in my opinion.

I mentioned earlier that there was a second reason for my journey – the desire for adventure. This I also fulfilled. First of all, I don’t quite understand entirely the reasoning behind the rule that such parks always have: “Please do not stray from the trail in order to preserve the integrity of the park” or something to that effect. It makes the whole environment seem much more like a zoo than nature – a simulated environment. My own personal desire in going hiking at least on that day was to be utterly ensconced in nature, a feat made difficult by the constant reminders that lumberjacks have recently been to chop. I’m a man – I want to push through branches, leap over alligators, spear a tuna, battle a lion. In actuality, I only have the occasional desire to take “shortcuts” and cut through forested areas and climb up hills and such. While I thoroughly enjoy the calm, at some points there just seems to be too much monotony in most hikes. And when this feeling overtakes me, I stop, look around, and plunge into some dense patch of forest. This darn testosterone within me just gives me an urge to do something manly from time to time I suppose. Usually the thought comes spontaneously, but I’ve learned in past experiences that pathfinding (literally finding another path in this case) can be quite the experience. Pull out your map, pick a direction (likely you’ll end up lost anyway so it doesn’t really matter), and then charge through God’s creation. The journeys typically only lead to a few broken branches along the way and maybe some scratched-up skin and it’s as if I was never there. I understand that if every person that came to the trail gave into like urges we might do some damage, but in locations like this one, with over 20 miles of trail, I think it would be quite difficult to ever do any significant or irreparable damage.

My exploit for which I am most proud came in the last half hour of my hike. I body was weary and I had just sat out beside the great lesser Colorado River for a time, and then decided to head back to my car when I noticed directly in front of me a very steep hill-cliff structure. I didn’t immediately plan to brave it, but I saw that there were several hikers standing on the trail about 100 feet away in my path and decided I didn’t want to have to deal with the unavoidable “beautiful day, isn’t it?” type courtesy questions. I looked forward down the path and then turned to the left and began to dash up the dashable portion of hill. There was about a 15 dirt incline of no significant incline, a steady increase in angle that had me slipping often, and then a sort of dirt wall of varying yellows – a 60 degree incline that only steepened as the top of the minicliff was reached, after about 25 feet. I found a broken limb (not my own) to help me steady myself and looked in front of me and upwards. It looked as if a bulldozer had lifted away a considerable portion of earth. Some roots protruded through the dirt wall and branches from trees below as well as roots from trees above provided the necessary aid to reach my goal. I turned around momentarily to contemplate turning back from the suicide attempt but realized I would almost undoubtedly come rolling down through the dirt and the momentum acquired might even be enough to cast me through the thin line of trees and into the river. Also I didn’t want to terrify any fellow hikers – with my luck the timing would cast a few of them into the river with me as well. After my mind returned to the matter at hand, I grabbed a number of branches on both my left and right, so as to have some hope of some not breaking, and pulled myself to a place where I could balance, finding a sort of foot tall foot-sized cave to balance in and made my way up steadily for awhile, with great caution taking not to put too much faith in any branches or roots. At the final 10 feet, it seemed to just be a complete cliff. I turned back again, grasping in front of me a root in each hand and leaning away from the wall, and was assured that if falling would not break my legs, the river would certainly be my next destination. So I looked up and grabbed a snake-like root and nothing else and acted as if it were an actual climbing rope until I reached the top. One final obstacle I had not considered found me at the top – a complete wall of bramble and branch. I now had plenty to grab onto, but unfortunately I had no real strength to push myself through the wood, so I swung my root over a few feet and barely managed to push through the branches, and somehow only received a few bloody wounds on the tops of my hands. All I could think about at the time while hovering between life and paralyzed life was the real import of the great invention – the machete.

The adventure had now been fully completed and the pathfinder within was satisfied to begin a long journey to find some trail and then the parking lot. There’s something so thrilling about a precarious situation – your animal survival instincts kick in, when in everyday life there is no reason for them to be employed. And whether it is from pride - a general sense of accomplishment at having achieved a goal or relief at not dying, the experiences inevitably bring forth a great joy (and as I am still feeling, a great pain in the muscles).