I stole some photos from Yonder
Trail Log: Poems
From distant hopes
A voice ceases
The leaves are changing colors
In the neon leaves of spring
The forest is louder than the city
Awake for long summer days
The forest is thick and dark
I learned to believe
The cold streams are overflowing
It is time to go home and be silent
I carried this here hoping I could put it in your hand when I finished. I can’t even say goodbye. I never could say goodbye, so I’m just going to keep carrying you to that place we were going. I’m sorry I can’t tell you what it’s seen or the world I’ve been taking your memory through. The funny thing is , when I look at it—it seems completely devoid of meaning without you in the world…It’s lost its power.
The sun and moon both set over
The same mountains tonight.
Dark clouds covered by bright stars
A beautiful world fades into the distance.
Lift N’ Step and I hiked down the Bigelows today. Yonder ran on ahead somewhere. We stopped for a cold dip in the “baths,” naturally formed swimming holes in a pretty stream. It was a nice day and we walked onward to a campsite near Flagstaff Lake. We found a really nice beach to stay at and decided to camp right on the beach. A reasonably large group of people came in for the night. We went for a swim and accidentally found our neighbors skinny dipping in the campsite next to us. As with most nudists: middle aged males. So we swam away quickly.
We enjoyed the last warm days before fall on this part of trail. It was 80 degrees and beautiful. I was thinking this was one of the greatest days I spent in Maine until I turned on my phone.
I was glad to have had such a wonderful day to counter-balance the message I received. A close family friend had died. Mr. Bill passed away, and I hadn’t even known. I could check my messages, but I couldn’t get a call out from the lake. I was hit with a heavy sadness. The lake took on a peaceful, tranquil and thoughtful character for me, rather than the sunny, bright joy it had before. I spent the night quietly thinking by the fire. I tried not to seem sad, but everyone knew I was pretty down.
For a long time I played with the knife he had given my mom to take on trail.It was a knife he carried with him for a long time, his personal totem almost. Every man should have a knife and this one he had made himself. My mom had lent it to me to take along the trail. I wanted to give it back to him when I finished, but trail had taken me too long. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this sadness stuck with me. Flagstaff lake was probably one of the best places to ponder existence.