You know why you haven’t taken up backpacking?
Because you think you have to hike with 40 pounds on your back with every footstep you take.
Well, you don’t. If every backpack trip we took involved lugging a full pack for days on end, we wouldn’t backpack, either.
The following post originally appeared Dec. 12, 2016. We rerun it today, with a tweak or two, because it expresses our appreciation of the season that lies ahead.
Winter’s skies are milky, indifferent. Its landscape monochromatic, a wash of grays and browns. Its weather harsh at times. And Lord knows the season is stingy with sunlight. The stuff of travel & tourism ad campaigns winter is not.
Once again, we find ourselves in need of hikes that aid in our escape, that help to calm the mind. They won’t necessarily solve our problems, but they will give us temporary escape. Sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.
Today’s five hikes are all at the coast, and best hiked during the cooler, less buggy, less snaky months of November through mid-March. You’ll find find a different sort of escape on these hikes, a certain calm that you’ll only find here, now. The seemingly constant breeze lets the trees, the grass, the plants tell their stories. Stories that began with a colorful birth in March, that celebrated the lazy days of summer, that grew melancholy come early fall and that ended, much like they began, in an explosion of color. The circle of life lived in just eight months. But what a story to be told at season’s end.
Wednesday morning I needed the calming powers of a long walk. Trouble was, I couldn’t think of a walk long enough to help. The 1,150-mile Mountains-to-Sea Trail? The 2,189-mile Appalachian Trail? The 6,800-mile American Discovery Trail? Compounding the problem: I had to get to work. I had maybe two hours at best to hike.
It’s happening, people! Starting this Sunday, that dwindling daylight will sharply ratchet back an hour. So, while you might be able to sneak in a quick hike after work this evening before the sun sets at 6:19 p.m., next week you’ll be hard pressed to hike before the 5:12 p.m. sunset.
Last weekend, we noticed a smattering of color in the Piedmont. By midweek, autumn was in full kaleidoscopic bloom, with a flush of reds (scarlet and red oaks), a flare of yellows (sycamores, poplars and ashes) and the occasional splash of brilliant orange, courtesy the sugar maple.
