June, 2021
Wrong turn? Right Turn? Maybe a left turn? The value of turning in some direction even if the destination is still unknown. The need to make a decision, but not to know its value. Better than standing still for too long. "Just do it." Sprint to the finish line without a goal in sight. Or walk slowly, carefully… watching for a familiar tree or rock or a bend in the trail.
We had gone backpacking. The four of us and Cinnamon. Before masks and distance. Before teenagers and the need to adapt to their struggles and the challenges. We climbed and moved forward, with the reassurance of a map. What happened was, we got lost. Or so we thought. We came to a standstill as Robert, whose confidence in the wilderness rarely shrank, wondered which way to turn. The afternoon was still, sunny and sensuous. There in Desolation Wilderness. Nico and Nathaniel carried their backpacks with confidence. Cinnamon's booties meant she could sprint from boulder to boulder, puppy pads protected from slippery rock and bumpy trail.
"Are we lost?" someone said, with barely a hint of rage or alarm.
We stood in a circle, as if hoping to raise the spirit of the topo map master.
Robert held the map and we discussed.
"Maybe we should turn back the way we came?"
"Maybe we missed a turn back there?"
"It will get dark and then it will be harder to figure out which way to go!"
"Dark…it is only 2!"
I imagined the lake. I didn't want our plans to erode for lack of the right turn. I pictured the swim, the dinner, the starry night. Robert was worried, rarely had I seen him so when trekking. Worried often in the city, but rarely when calm and quiet emanated from towering, green trees and a swath of blue, clear sky.
Nico offered something more definitive. "I think we should keep going. Maybe we haven't come to the right turn yet!" What happened was we followed the voice of youth and adapted. Robert relaxed a bit, feeling somewhat less responsible for exactly which turn we would take. I focused on watching Cinnamon sprint ahead, and then stopping to look back to insure that we were all accounted for.
Sometime soon thereafter Nico suggested a "U" turn which resembled a curve on the map. We circled again and agreed. This turn had more value than all the turns we could have taken. We were on the right path even if the destination was ahead and out of sight. We came to the lake. Pitched our tents and swam and ate and hibernated for the night. In warm sleeping bags with stars monitoring our breath. Cinnamon came inside with Robert and me. She curled into us and what happened was we slept.
I wonder years later, here, writing, about all the turns I have made or thought I should make. The wrong ones and the right ones and the ones still ahead and out of sight. A wise friend said that everything we do, all the turns, are right because each movement we make leads us to the next. And we wouldn't be where we are if not for all the turns and cumulative experience which is necessary to bring us to the lake where we can glide through still, cold, mountain water and eat pasta with pesto and curl into downy warmth with a red dog while our two sons sleep blissfully nearby.