Another find from my old backups. I think I must have used this for an English class back in my early college days.
I suppose coming right out and explaining my topic would be the best way about it, but I think I’ll tell you a bit more. In order to fully appreciate my kilt, you’d have to understand the journey. Sometimes the place you visit will rival any memories of how you got there. In my case, both were equally important.
I can remember quite easily the long summer months after school let out. We have always lived far from any large town or city, so in order to keep busy and away from yard work some creativity was in demand. So, me and several other friends always seemed to meet up and just sit around, and would end up being put to work. Either gardening or simply toting limbs fallen from the many oak trees about our yard. After awhile it got to be synonymous that with the door opening behind us, it was someone coming to find us something to do.
So, we began to walk and explore. We found places that quite obviously we hadn’t seen before. I can say I enjoyed myself quite well. Normally not a nature frolicking person, I learned to enjoy myself and take in the peace of my surroundings. It did wonders for my stress. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let myself enjoy those days again.
The place that stands out in my mind the most though, is a place me and my friend Josh named ‘Paradise Valley. Perhaps it came from the ‘Great Valley from the Land Before Time, but it’s been so long I don’t remember exactly.
To get there is no simple thing for anyone out of their youthful stage of determination. It wasn’t simply a walk in the park. Though I have to admit it kinda’ started out as one. Less than a mile from my home the paved gravel road gave off to a red dirt road, which seemed to wind around the corners beyond sight. If you were foolish to go barefoot, you would probably be ok up until the point the dirt road gave up it’s dominion. The gravel road have tar ‘pools’ where the construction crew laid too much under the gravel. After years of wear they still would provide a soft path to make it up the gravel paths. Ever stepped on an acorn while walking barefoot? After several minutes of walking on gravel, grass feels about the same. You welcome that wet red dirt.
To begin the journey, and yes I’m sure you guessed that the previous lines were only a hint, you literally descended into the underbrush. At certain times of the year the underbrush seemed to be rife with insects, poison ivy and every other form deterrence that should keep anyone with sense away. Yes, I was definitely one of the first to leap in.
Imagine my surprise when many times upon making it home later in the day that I had insect bites and quite often a tick in my hair. Or on my skin, or … I suppose you get the idea. Every so often, quite possibly every time and more, I’d come home with cuts all over my arms and legs. Most people that go ‘adventuring in the woods at least think to wear pants. At the least a good pair of boots. Neither applied here. An overly loose t-shirt, some Wal-mart shoes and blue jean shorts were my garb.
Usually within the first moments I’d gain my first scratch, or my first encounter with a spider web. I don’t like spiders in the first place. I don’t like to see them very often, and usually once is too often. Imagine my surprise when a huge, and I do mean huge, spider web envelops me when I try to take a short cut around a stream. I bet the trees themselves reeled with laughter at my antics. Finding the way into Paradise Valley was probably so much easier than the way we took. But after that first trip, it became nearly an unsaid way about entering this place we came to love.
Looking back with an older child’s mind, I can say that there was nothing more than a twisting creek with looming embankments on either side with many a dog and house between crossings. We usually found out that a particular house had an overeager to please dog living there when we happened upon them. I can honestly say it didn’t take a long time to figure out we needed to cross quickly.
Once onto the adjoining side we would travel for what seemed like miles before we realized the time and day. Occasionally we’d trek out there on really cloudy days because of the coolness, and the dampness of the woods. It just didn’t seem that oppressing after crossing the creek and swimming in spots. Most of the time the water was so low we could wade most of the way there. Sometimes I would find myself so hot I’d lay down with only my nose and eyes above the water. Once I found sand in my ears I learned to keep them above as well. Oh, I wouldn’t wear a hat on some of my first trips through, but after having my pony tail nearly torn off by the underbrush I’d find creative ways to keep it all under a hat.
The shining pinnacle to our trip was making it to a spot high on a ridge looking out on our journey thus far, and enjoying the view from higher up. If you weren’t careful though you’d walk right by and never notice. After stumbling on it the first time, we made a careful note of the surrounding landmarks so we could find it again. There wasn’t a whole lot to go by. You had to basically recognize it by where the trees were positioned or the slope of the land. I think what did it for us was the feel of the place; we probably recognized it by how long it took us to get there.
Stepping out of the underbrush towards daylight for the first time I nearly lost my nerve. Below us lay all that we had walked through and the creek far below. Above us we could nearly look out upon the treetops opposite us. All that kept us from looking over all of them was their sheer height. Most of the plant growth surrounding us seemed to have superior strength compared to that which grew around our houses. Perhaps this area didn’t have little kids trampling everything.
Right below the skyline, and the trees across us, was the opposite bank and the creek running between them. Further down it twisted around another turn and disappeared from sight. The shoreline it twisted around seemed to form into the shape of a dolphin, and appropriately was named after such. Dolphins Bend or something similar. The years seem to make such terms slightly fuzzy to my senses. Directly below us was a good reason not to slip, for we wouldn’t have been doing any more climbing. Barbed wire stretched lazily beneath an outcropping held only by a young tree of several decades, upon which we were standing, and would stand many a time more afterwards. Beneath that yet another strand, though a bit more taught than the last and another right below it. There was a gap between the layers, and quite possibly it may have been big enough so that a falling person wouldn’t be mangled between their steely grip, but the fall across the outgrowth on the side of the descending slope would have seen to either of our ends.
If by some miraculous chance we made it to the water below it often was a shallower spot filled with old trees and a bit more brush than one could ever carry in a single trip.
What could make a person come to this spot where a slight misstep or an embankment caving in could cost them their life? I’d have to say that every now and then a person loosens up and enjoys life for what it is. You’ll only have it for so long. It’s not ours to keep, and eventually we have to give it back. So why not enjoy it while you have it? I’ve always been afraid of heights, but this was to me a single truth to the tale of life. We’d sit back and drink some of Josh’s tea that he had brought in a canteen and breathe deeply. By this time we’d have the equivalent workout of an aspiring highschool football player, and would definitely be feeling every moment of it.
On one such trip I exerted myself much harder than normal and even took foolish leaps and jumps across the ravines and ditches that we had to cross and ended up tearing my blue jean shorts from the inner leg of one side to the other and part of one outer thigh. I also had to on this day, pick the most filthy and sand filled paths to the top. I thought I was tired when I got there. But no, we had to decide to head home a different route this time. Actually, I don’t even think thoughts of home had entered either of our minds by this time. We were still pressing forward. Eventually we came out right by a major highway passing through the small town of Pittsview that I live near. We had the bright idea of taking that route home. Several more miles, without the soft sand to cushion our sand filled shoes, or my sand filled shorts.
I would have nearly killed form some Goldbond. On top of that I think I found a few ticks crawling across my arms. Needless to say every trip had something interesting happen. That time happened to stand out because I had to hold my shorts together, which still looked more the mini-skirt than shorts.
