Going bass ackwards

Those of us who walk regularly have favorite, oft repeated routes. When I was working and walked over my lunch hour, I had four routine paths of about three miles each and I took each one every week. While I now have much more time and fewer restrictions on how long and where I can walk, I still have my favorites.

One of these is in a county park about a 15 minute drive from my house. Lebanon Hills is a large park with multiple entrances and many miles of trails. While I do hike nearly all of them now and then, the trail around Jensen Lake plus a couple extra miles to the east, is my favorite. 

The lake, of course, is always interesting. Ducks, geese, herons, and egrets grace its shores in nearly every season. The vegetation changes throughout the year. The paths have enough challenge and elevation change to keep things interesting. Buckthorn clearing has opened the vistas up a bit over the past couple years. While often quite busy on the weekends, the trail is only lightly used during the week itself. Over my three and a half mile ramble, I meet fewer than half a dozen other walkers - and their dogs. The area is well-maintained with very little, if any, litter or dropped doggie-poop bags.

Yesterday for a change of pace, I decided to do my regular walk, but circle the lake clockwise instead of counter clockwise as is my habit. During the pandemic, the county posted signs (see above), that indicated the trail was to be walked in one direction only. Somehow the likelihood  of people passing the virus while passing others always seemed pretty remote. The rule was often ignored and, as far as I know, never really enforced. So despite the still posted one-way signs, I hiked my well-loved path bass ackwards. 

It was like hiking a whole different park. Seen from an alternative perspective, the paths were new and the sights were novel. I actually had to look at the posted maps at trail intersections to double-check the right path. Some things stayed the same: the root which once tripped me when my attention was on an approaching hiker’s cleavage rather than the path, the “crooked” bridge from which many a fowl can always be seen, and wooden board walks on which the thump of one’s hiking poles can sound like a drum beat. But the walk felt surprisingly new.

The pandemic has kept all of us closer to home, less able to go new places, try new experiences. But it doesn’t take much to change up the old and familiar and make it feel at least a bit exhilarating. 

Try going bass ackwards on your next walk.