Am I growing more fearful and cautious with age? Admittedly I paused and had second thoughts. Tikka and I were out for a walk and at the beginning of the trail a sign had been added to the one listing the rules of the trail — "Warning, Alligators on Trail". I looked at Tikka, tail wagging happily, wondering if she would make a tasty morsel. I am not comfortable with the idea of meeting an alligator, despite the fact that we did summer in southern Louisiana as a child, despite acknowledging that knowledge of the presence and habits of alligators, rattlesnakes, copperheads and water mocassins were part of my youthful lexicon.
No, Tikka and I were not out for a hike around Knoxville. If there are alligators on the trails in the Smoky Mountains I truly do not want to know. We were in Arkansas, at Lake Dardanelle, near Russellville, in the area between the Ozark National Forest and the Oachita National Forest. We were really just passing through; having pulled off the highway on a whim, we discovered Bona Dea Trails and Sanctuary. It was a nice place for a mid-day walk after a couple of hours on the road. We took the three mile loop trail, through sometimes dense wooded wetlands, lazy streams, the sounds of insects, frogs and birds. It was green and humid and beautiful. It was completely unfamiliar; not like New York woodlands or wetlands, not like Amazonian wetlands either. It was simply itself, contained and quiet. Tikka with her harness and six-foot leash (maximum by regulation) met toddlers in their harnesses and six foot leashes, a happy party for the small folk. We saw no alligators on the trail, although there were some in the water.
But we really weren't in Arkansas to spend time exploring the national forests, although that could be a vacation well spent. We were on our way to Bentonville for art, to see a Dale Chihuly exhibit, a slightly roundabout route to Texas. And the exhibit was fabulous, filled with things expected and unexpected, with new insights. I was struck by the way some of the familiar forms, the nested vessels above, reminded me of a hollow tree we had seen at Bona Dea, how the familiar can be re-envisioned and become new.
Not everything was beautiful, but everything was fascinating. Perhaps it was the memory of that mid-day walk, but the piece above reminded me of the colors of water and trees, of swampy greens and mosses, of sunlight glistening on wet stones and scales,
Perhaps I am getting better at semi-solo travel, or travel with dog. We have a good routine. We rise early, Tikka eats while I have my coffee and read or write. We take a walk. She loves to ride in the car and her presence reminds me to look for interesting places to stop and stretch our legs. This is a vacation rhythm that suits me well: read, a nice long hike or walk, a mid day or early afternoon siesta, venturing out again, perhaps some time looking at art, or drinking coffee in a café watching the passers-by, another walk. I'm not sure I want to hike all day, or if I do I need a day or rest afterwards. I can't spend a day in a museum or a craft fair either. I grow too easily overwhelmed. I need time to process. But just wandering and sitting, seeing a place, talking to people; this too is just as important as the hike, the art. There is no rush through life. At the moment I can simply relax.
Comments
2 responses to “A Detour”
This is a pace that suits me as well, though I don’t have a dog with me when I travel solo (nor, for that matter, have I taken road trips solo, or at least not ones that require more than a two-hours drive).
The alligator sign would definitely deter me — around here, the warnings that have been posted on some of our regular rambles are for Bears, and I wouldn’t want to meet one of those particularly either, although I think I’d prefer it to a huge reptile with massive teeth and lightening moves. . .
I think I’d prefer a bear; but it could be that I am used to bear warning signs and not to alligator warning signs. I figured if people would take their toddlers I could brave the trail as well.