when the journey is the destination
notes from a weekend in the great outdoors
I spent this past weekend hiking and “glamping” in Shenandoah National Park with my husband and dog, where we soaked in the stunning mountain views amidst the start of the changing leaves, and indulged at some delicious food spots in nearby Sperryville. Despite having lived in DC for nine years, I’d never actually been to Shenandoah before, even though it’s only a two-hour drive away. I’ve hiked and picnicked in Great Falls many times and have camped at a Lock House in Maryland, but immersing myself in the ethereal beauty of the Appalachian Mountains was a next-level experience of nature and it had quite a grounding effect on me.
Maybe it's all the election anxiety and the 24-7 news commentary on it, the constant stream of news alerts populating my phone screen, or the general experience of taking in so much concerning information through our screens — our collective sense of anxiety seems to be at an all-time high. It’s hard not to constantly think about the future - at an individual and world level - when there are so many distressing things happening and so much information and analysis about it flooding our feeds.
Until I was up the mountains hiking the Appalachian Trail, I didn’t know how much I needed to pull myself out of the digital ether world and plant myself firmly into the tactile, physical one. On the rocky trail snaking along the ridge of the mountains at 3,500 feet elevation, with no cell service and honestly, no real desire to scroll through Instagram or check my news app, I immediately started to feel calmer, more rooted, and more connected to the world.
My husband Ted had mapped out two dog-friendly hikes for us to do. A 7-mile hike on a stretch of the Appalachian Trail on Saturday and a 3.5-mile hike on the South River Falls trail on Sunday. My big concern was that Mysa, our 27-pound Jack Russel-beagle mix, would tire out, but halfway through our first hike, I began think she might never exhaust herself. From our first steps onto the trail, her nose was to the ground and she was pulling ahead on her leash (giving Ted an even harder workout!) unable to get enough of the outdoors. Yes, she is normally an exuberant dog and she loves going on mini-trail hikes in DC around Rock Creek Park, but up in the mountains, she was truly in her element.
Whenever Ted and I took a break to have a few sips of water or a snack or just to rest our legs, after about two minutes of pausing, Mysa would start to whimper and try to tug us back to the trail. It was as if she didn’t want to waste any time resting or sitting when there was so much to explore! When we got to our destination, Mary’s Rock, halfway through our first hike, she did the same thing - try to nudge us right back to the trail. No need to stop and enjoy the view and take in our reward for our physical work, she was focused on getting right back to the journey.
On our little journey, each of us had our roles. Of course, Mysa’s was the energizer, the one-dog pep squad who would keep up morale by bounding ahead and pulling us onwards. Ted’s was the planner; the man who figures out how much water and extra snacks we’ll need, along with everything else I wouldn’t think of, and packs all of these essentials into his backpack. He also carried said backpack and kept us at a steady pace. Then, me, always at the tail end of our pack of three, taking more time to admire the scenery so I could capture the colorful leaves and the views from each overlook. Not the most utilitarian role on a hiking trip, but I would argue it’s important to document the moments, so we have the memories and stories to look back on later.
These different jobs only came to clash a little bit when, at quarter after six, Ted was trying to keep up the pace to get us back before sunset, while I had other priorities. I was focused on capturing the golden hour light peaking through the trees, which was changing every few minutes. (We did not end up getting stuck on the trail after dark, so it all worked out.)
That night, after a stop for dinner at Rappahannock Pizza Kitchen, we were driving through some very dark and windy country roads to our cabin near Standardsville. I kept thinking of that metaphor that compares life or writing or something to driving a car at night because you can only see a few feet ahead of you. I couldn’t remember the exact quote at the time until I looked it up while writing this SubStack post. I must have read it in Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird writing guide, but the original quote is from historical fiction novelist and editor E.L. Doctorow, who said:
Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.
As I was sitting in the passenger seat thinking about this, I couldn’t help but make the same comparison to hiking through the woods. You can’t see very far down the trail, and maybe that’s a good thing. There’s no room to worry about the huge incline you might climb in a few miles, or what rewarding views you might encounter along the trail, you just have to focus on your immediate next steps. Everything else — both the challenges and the joys — will be experienced as they come.
Strangely, or maybe not so strangely, our weekend in the great outdoors invigorated me to get to work on my next writing project. It’s easy to get caught up in the “goals” and endgames of writing: submitting things to agents and trying to pitch your work to fit the unpredictable and mysterious landscape of the publishing market. But that isn’t the point. The point is sitting down and doing the work and creating something you’re proud of and can share with a readership, however big or small. I was grateful to be reminded of this over the weekend.
On another note, it’s been a year since I started this Substack, so thank you for following along. I received some wonderful news last week that I was awarded another Individual Artist Fellowship in fiction writing from the D.C. Commission on Arts & Humanities. I’m thankful and delighted to receive this support and recognition.
Thanks for reading, and enjoy some bonus puppy pictures from the weekend.
