It is early and we are blanketed by morning fog. My daughter and I are hiking about looking for the trailhead because life is much more fun without directions or maps.
Thunderstorms are forecast for today so we don’t plan to stray far from the campsite where my son is doing camp volunteer training. But the call of the birds and the magnificently dainty flowers of early summer amidst the scrub was too loud to resist.
This was a good trail, my daughter told me, because it only had one switchback and steep climbs are much better than the slow torture of gently-graded trails. It was a precious hour to wander in the hills with my child – alone and uninterrupted even by fellow hikers (who don’t seem to like the steep climb).
And then we reached the top and my daughter was happy, well and truly happy – I think she will end up living in the wilderness when she grows up.
Coming down we saw the rain approaching across the valley and it looked like a fast moving fog that blurred out the buildings and roads in the valley below.
It quickly became a race to get back to the campground before the rain got to us, but sitting together in the car afterwards, I felt so blessed for that gift of time alone with her, enjoying a challenge together with nothing but the comforting sounds of wind, birds, and the local rod and gun club in the distance.
