Hiking

Today, I went on a 9-mile hike with some friends.  We started out from Millard Canyon (look at the left of the map) and had hoped to reach Mt. Lowe (look at the top of the map), but due to some detours along the way--going down the wrong trail at the start of the hike--we ended up just going to Echo Mountain (look at the right of the map) instead.

Apparently, there used to be a hotel up there and a railway that led up to it.  These were some signs that we were approaching Echo Mountain:

        

When we arrived at the ruins of the hotel, we got a splendid view:

These steps used to lead up to the hotel.  Sadly, it burned to the ground in 1905, but there are still some remains of the structure, like this one:

During the hike, I got a chance to talk with some of my girl friends.  One of them has known me for nearly 2 years, and we see each other frequently.  But it wasn't until today that she learned about an experience I'd had that profoundly affected who I am today.  This sort of thing doesn't come out easily during pleasant brunch conversation (she and I recently enjoyed scrumptious breakfast and amazing chai tea at our local Peach Cafe).  In day-to-day settings, there is hardly time to catch up about the present, much less divulge information from one's past.  But today, around mile 3.67 of the journey, I told my friend about an interesting and unique experience that resulted in a break-up with someone I had thought I'd marry; separation and non-communication from a community of friends I'd once hoped to call my spiritual family; a relocation from one part of California to another; and a year of not going to church.  Somehow, in between my panting and as we trudged uphill single-file, I told her briefly about my story.  In the rhythm of our upwards movement, I did not have the physical breath to go into details--the way I might when having a sleepover, leaning against the kitchen counter sipping some hot cocoa, in that time of night when two friends have changed into PJs but aren't quite ready to say good night--but I felt freed up to open up about something that was deeply personal and had wounded me in the past.

I imagine that Jesus took long walks through the wilderness with His disciples, walks that at times were just as long and strenuous as our trek to Echo Mountain.  What things about themselves did the disciples share with Him--and one another--and what secrets were loosened from the depths of their hearts through the rhythm of putting one foot in front of another, free now to be released into the receptive arms of nature's soil, plants, and sky?

Our hiking group is hoping to scale Half and Dome and Mt. Whitney this summer, so I'll be going on more long hikes in the coming months.  I look forward to training my body and building up endurance, and I also wonder what conversations are in store as I journey towards a common destination with these like-minded fellow-travelers.