Trail

Hiking the trail

Follow the yellow brick road. No, wait. Hike the Appalachian Trail. No, wait. Beware the mosquitoes on the trail through the Everglades. No, wait. Just put one foot in front of the other and keep going. That’s how you get where you’re going. Barring detours.

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

4 thoughts on “Trail”

  1. We learned our lesson the hard way. We are very experienced hikers/travelers but decided one day to go off a trail to explore a bit. That was a huge mistake. We wound up finding it extremely difficult to locate our way back to the trail and didn’t have a compass with us. It also was tough walking under the low sharp branches of the deciduous trees which seemed to overpopulate one area. As it became a bit darker and cooler I have to admit that my heart began to beat a little faster because I was actually afraid. The worst part was finding a tick on my back when we returned home. Obviously we never ever went off a trail again. Once was enough. There are plenty of news articles about experienced hikers going off trails and being lost. Quite a few have been found dead by search parties after several days of being seen. Usually they’ve been killed either by a fall or overexposure to the elements. Heed the warning: “Do not leave the trail!”

  2. There are many really good people in this world. One of them happens to be my great niece. A few years ago when she was a junior in high school, she and her best and lifelong friend – a senior – vied all year with each other in running. No one else came close. Both participated in the Finals to become best in the state. My great niece deliberately held back a bit so the friend could become State Champion, thereby guaranteeing a scholarship for college. Krista trailed to come in second, but in my book she’s tops. By the way, the following year the rest of the pack trailed her lead. She became State Champion.

  3. It was a routine tracking event for Biswas babu and his team .
    The daily flooding of the shores at high tide had hidden pug marks, so they had to patiently wait out the time. In their boats, that bobbed in the muddy backwaters, their heads scraping the low hanging branches, of the mangrove trees.
    When the waters receded, the slush glistening muddy underbelly of the Sunderbans shore was exposed to view, with the tree trunks still wet. The air smelt damp and fishy, from all the rotting and wet decaying logs , vegetation. Some logs floated desultorily amid the waters hanging around between the aerial mangrove roots ,reluctant to leave.
    “If you stare at them too long, you will see them turn into crocodiles,”Biswas babu cautioned me with a nervous laugh.
    True enough, I could see the bark on the back of a log , transform into scary looking bristly scales. I hated this job.
    Biswas babu and his team nonchalantly took out their kit and busied themselves in the slush and slippery mud , their pant legs rolled up high. They had come across, what was obviously a pug-mark, but to my untrained eye, it just looked a small depression in the clayey mud. Measuring and making POP cast of the paw print took some time , and a lookout shouted , after scouting a bit ahead that he had found another pug -mark. After two hours and couple of pug marks more, the trail now grew cold.
    We were standing on this rickety bamboo bridge, surrounded by mangrove trees and “logs”, when we heard a twig snap , behind us…

  4. The low hanging branches arch over the threshold of the rocky trail. Small pink blossoms cling to the natural arbor, inviting you to take your first steps. The air is crisp and earthy, void of the harsh motor chemicals from the city. You’re excited as your foot sets down on the clay.

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