Anyone who lives in the Northeast has undoubtedly realized that it has been raining—a lot. It hasn’t really felt like summer until recently, and I’ve been taking as much time as I possibly can to be outside. Today was absolutely beautiful, so when a friend called me this afternoon and demanded that we MUST go to Steep Rock, a local preserve, to swim in the river and enjoy the last day of June, I couldn’t turn her down. 
The Shepaug River at Steep Rock
I shut my computer and turned away from my to-do list of publicity tasks, at the top of which ironically was writing this blog, and decided that river traipsing was far more important (sorry Richard!).
When we got to our favorite grassy knoll it was over-run by small campers from the local Indian Institute. We decided to hike to our favorite childhood spot instead—the elusive old railroad trestle and rope swing. There was a chance that we would be trespassing on private property, and because of the recent rain a teenage boy had actually gone missing in the surging river. We decided to take the risk. Stupid? Yes. Worth it? Definitely.
The trek to the rope swing took longer than we remembered. We had to climb over a giant felled pine tree, walk through an old, wet, dark railroad tunnel, and swim across a river where we grossly underestimated the speed and strength of the current.
Author climbing over a felled pine tree
The rope swing however, was better than I could have imagined. When we arrived at the river bed across from the swing I felt like I had been transported directly into a Mark Twain novel.
View of the rope swing
I don’t know if it was the place, the day or the idea of it all, but I cannot remember having better afternoon. Because I was older I could appreciate the rarity of it—a perfectly preserved, isolated section of the river where I was able to spend four hours and the entire time thought of nothing other than what I was doing at that moment. It was quintessential nature; at one point a red-tailed hawk even swooped down and perched in a nearby tree.
Preparing to climb through yet another felled tree
During the trek I thought a lot about Born to Explore. When walking we came across a bear track, and I thought of the chapter on tracking, and as I was gradually swept downstream when I crossed the river I thought about Richard’s adamant dedication to safety. I think that every human has an innate desire to explore, but it is the “don’ts” that hold us back—I don’t have time, I don’t know how, I don’t have the resources. But as Born to Explore teaches us, backyard exploring is so much easier than you could ever imagine. Anyone can do it, and the result is unbelievably rewarding.
The light at the end of the railroad tunnel
As we left I commented that I felt like we were doing something Tom Sawyer would have done—carousing through the woods and trespassing without a care in the world. And though I am not advocating trespassing, whether you are twelve or twenty or two-hundred there is a little part of Tom Sawyer in all of us, waiting to be discovered by a small and fun adventure.
Author preparing to swing
While I write this, I realize that I have a significant amount of cuts on my legs that are starting to sting and I am 90% sure that I walked through a bed of poison ivy. My only regret? I wish I had worn footwear that was more advantageous to exploring.
The Shepaug River at Steep RockI shut my computer and turned away from my to-do list of publicity tasks, at the top of which ironically was writing this blog, and decided that river traipsing was far more important (sorry Richard!).
When we got to our favorite grassy knoll it was over-run by small campers from the local Indian Institute. We decided to hike to our favorite childhood spot instead—the elusive old railroad trestle and rope swing. There was a chance that we would be trespassing on private property, and because of the recent rain a teenage boy had actually gone missing in the surging river. We decided to take the risk. Stupid? Yes. Worth it? Definitely.
The trek to the rope swing took longer than we remembered. We had to climb over a giant felled pine tree, walk through an old, wet, dark railroad tunnel, and swim across a river where we grossly underestimated the speed and strength of the current.
Author climbing over a felled pine treeThe rope swing however, was better than I could have imagined. When we arrived at the river bed across from the swing I felt like I had been transported directly into a Mark Twain novel.
View of the rope swingI don’t know if it was the place, the day or the idea of it all, but I cannot remember having better afternoon. Because I was older I could appreciate the rarity of it—a perfectly preserved, isolated section of the river where I was able to spend four hours and the entire time thought of nothing other than what I was doing at that moment. It was quintessential nature; at one point a red-tailed hawk even swooped down and perched in a nearby tree.
Preparing to climb through yet another felled treeDuring the trek I thought a lot about Born to Explore. When walking we came across a bear track, and I thought of the chapter on tracking, and as I was gradually swept downstream when I crossed the river I thought about Richard’s adamant dedication to safety. I think that every human has an innate desire to explore, but it is the “don’ts” that hold us back—I don’t have time, I don’t know how, I don’t have the resources. But as Born to Explore teaches us, backyard exploring is so much easier than you could ever imagine. Anyone can do it, and the result is unbelievably rewarding.
The light at the end of the railroad tunnelAs we left I commented that I felt like we were doing something Tom Sawyer would have done—carousing through the woods and trespassing without a care in the world. And though I am not advocating trespassing, whether you are twelve or twenty or two-hundred there is a little part of Tom Sawyer in all of us, waiting to be discovered by a small and fun adventure.
Author preparing to swingWhile I write this, I realize that I have a significant amount of cuts on my legs that are starting to sting and I am 90% sure that I walked through a bed of poison ivy. My only regret? I wish I had worn footwear that was more advantageous to exploring.
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