My 20-year-old son Ben likes to hike, but it is rare that the two of us hike together. He is a busy college student and I have limited time on the weekends. When a Saturday came up in which I had nothing scheduled, I suggested we take a hike together. “Sure, that would be great,” he agreed early in the week when I brought it up.
When Saturday arrived, Ben had a paper due that he still hadn’t completed. It was due electronically at 4:30 PM and he was done not a second before. We headed out the door, knowing we would have limited time before darkness prevailed upon us.
We headed north to Loch Raven Reservoir, with miles and miles of trails in the woods and along the water. On the way there in the car, I received a phone call that set me in a bad mood. I was already feeling frustrated by getting a late start; now resentment was added to it. I vented a bit to Ben as we finished the drive, but I was not in a very good frame of mind as we began our hike.
The hike was more physically challenging that I imagined, which was fun and fine. Ben and I talked about the psychology course whose paper had consumed his day. He wants to be a clinic psychologist and he will be excellent at it. I was still burdened by my frustration and resentment from the phone call, weighing down my mind like a cumbersome backpack full of rocks. As we walked, we had to traverse fallen logs, dodge mud, clamber up and down some steep spots on the trail. I was supported in my effort by my good hiking boots and trekking poles. It was slow going at times for my 58-year-old body, as Ben pointed out a few times as he ambled along easily in his slip on sneakers.
We looped back on a smoother path, which was fortunate, since it was approaching 7:00 PM and the sky was darkening. The path grew harder to see and I fired up the flashlight on my phone. Even so, we lost the path a few times and struggled to find our bearings among the carpet of fallen leaves.
We could hear the road in the distance, where my car was parked, so I knew we were close, but it was a bit harrowing. Thankfully we both had phones with lights and compasses and a trail app with GPS, so we were never in danger. But it was comforting to know Ben was with me and that I was not alone in the darkness.
Darkness comes in many forms and sometimes approaches more quickly and fully than we might like. By the time we emerged into the parking lot, the earlier mental darkness that I carried onto the trail had dissipated. This was by no means the best hike I had ever taken, but Ben and I had 90 minutes of quality time together which is irreplaceable. And it has given us a memory of “the time we got lost in the woods at night” (I’m sure that’s how it will be remembered in the family lore years from now).
The darkness did not overcome me or us. We had enough light and energy and faith to get us safely through the woods. And most importantly, we had each other.
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