The Spot
Right after the dam it’s a quick left. Down a slope, over a speed bump, and around a giant pothole. It is the bottom of the dam; a fast moving river runs next to you. It looks to be a useless, unassuming place. Twenty steps away is a small babbling brook. Not so small that you can hop over it, but not so big that it’s a giant worry. It’s the first hurdle, a small one but an important one. It’s this brook that caused me to almost not go on this hike in the first place. I’m not a sure footed person, a bit top heavy as some would say. Yet as most things go I was encouraged to go forward years ago. Now it’s three small steps that I don’t even think about, because I know what is past them. Then my least favorite part of this simple fifteen minute hike is next. It’s because I never remember it, then I am immediately lost.
My eyes scan left and right looking for anything recognizable. A small panic fills me. It’s only been a year; why can’t I find my path? Then as quickly as fear enters me it fades away. The trees line up and show me a long forgotten road. Many fallen branches and trees lay over it. I often wonder if the bigger trees were cut down to block this road specifically. Just trees I would have to clear at some point in the forever future in my mind. It’s on a small incline up as well. Which makes me out of breath faster than I would like. So I stop halfway up the road. My excitement has only made me go too fast.
On this abandoned road there are hills that go up on either side. Both have white rocks randomly peppered along them. Quartz is what Asa tells me the rocks are. They are like trapped pockets of white light that you can just happen to pick up. They are from the dynamite, I assume. This place is an old rock quarry, where they got the material for the dam. Signs are randomly placed telling you to keep away. Unexploded dynamite supposedly still exists. It’s been so many years and I have seen and heard of no explosions yet. I’ve stood here too long; my eagerness gets the best of me.
About five more minutes up this road, then to the left over a small hill. That is when you see it. I don’t know if it is just appealing to me or if it is magnificent to everyone. As you look out you see a small clearing with what looks to be a marshy area. Bright green thick grass grows out of it. A little bit past that are young trees trying to grow. Some are only a few years new and others stand fifteen feet tall. To the left and right are cliff faces. Man made from all the dynamite explosions. The one to the left is almost too perfectly straight up and down. It has the color of earth, red with a few tan looking parts. Loose rocks from the size of boulders on down are tossed around at the bottom of these cliffs.
This is my favorite place. Because it is a valley like this, I feel protected and held. The first time I came I explored the tops of both cliffs and around them. Now every time I come I get to the bottom of the valley, among the teenage trees, and feel at peace. I spend the time thinking about the small log cabin I want to build here. Where my garden will be and how long the walk will be to the river for fishing. If I would be able to dig out a cellar. It’s all planned out in my head. I have a spot that I have made there. It looks like a grave, but to me it is a spot. It is a seat, surrounded by smallish rocks with the bottom filled in with new pine needles every time I come. It is incredibly comfortable and the view is one I long to see every day.
I want to see the sun rise across the small view of the sky that you can see from the valley. I want to fill the cliff face with laughter and shadow puppets. I want to have a dog that goes with me everywhere, unbounded by leashes. I want to know every inch of the area like the back of my hand. A lot of wants, right? Too many? I don’t think so. Everyone has their preference and dream place. Or I assume everyone does. If not, what do people daydream about? The want is negated by the simple fact that I’m ok with waiting for this. That might be what makes it even better. I get to keep dreaming about it, once every few years going back to make my memories of the area even more vivid.
-Tom