Trail Talk – March 2025

THAT NOTION that we might one day travel to that blank spot on the map, to explore where others have not gone ahead of us, is a fantasy that draws so many of us into the wild places. We search out those places to explore, to have new and different adventures in this too-human desire that our German neighbors labeled, “WanderLust.” Hence, the multi-billion dollar industry we call, “Travel” with a capital T. As we grow, become aware, and inform ourselves about the wide world around us, we, like Coyote, begin to ponder what wonders we might see if we were simply “going there, making tracks.”

Hikers’ thoughts have cogitated on this WanderLust phenomenon during our recent spate of snowy weather. What better time to make tracks than in new fallen snow, our footprints potentially the first there in that blank canvas provided so magically on a winter’s day? Or perhaps our tracks will parallel those of other forest creatures that we so seldom encounter: perhaps the loping stride of Coyote, the measured pacing of Black Bear or solemn march of Bobcat. Perhaps the lunatic bounding of Jackrabbit, the purposeful hops of Gray Squirrel, or frenetic scurrying of Valley Quail. The clean slate invites all to leave their impressions, to remind us that we share this world with so many others. There’s a magical quality to being out and about in the fresh fallen snow for those with senses made more aware in the absence of any mechanical conveyance. Even our voices become subdued as we converse with our traveling companions. There is no need for loud chatter here.

For a local opportunity, because of our proximity to so many trails, it can be as available as a hike into the Woodlands, or a short jaunt to the trailheads in Forest Park or along the Sterling Ditch. Here, in what was so familiar in the warmer days of memory, we indeed find that “blank spot on the map.” Here there are new worlds to explore. Our wet winter, so reminiscent of our childhood in these local hills and dales, has created a different cacophony of sound as rushing rivulets cascade down steep hillsides, joining the steady roar of emboldened Jackson or Daisy Creeks in our local watershed. Snowfall’s ability to muffle sounds creates the opportunity to venture forth from quiet woodlands, rounding but a minor corner in the trail, to enter a suddenly boisterous world of rushing water. Here, Pacific Wren, with all the confidence of the resident Greeter of these places, bursts into song, alerting all to our presence.

Another endearing aspect of wandering through deep forest on a snowy day is the feeling that our sphere of awareness has shortened, that the forest has somehow closed in upon us. And yet, concentrated, our senses are more acute, We are simply more in the moment. This is, then, that which we avail ourselves of, a freedom, if you will. Happy trails.