You’re off to great places, today is your day.
Your mountain is waiting, so get on your way.
Dr. Seus
Mountains are silent masters and make silent students.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Adventure is worthwhile in itself.
Amelia Earhart
Look deep into nature and you will understand everything better.
Albert Einstein
Having just recovered from a bout of influenza, I was sceptical about the idea of going on a long hike this weekend, as my hiking buddies had suggested.
One of them sent me the proposed route late Saturday evening and, on awakening next morning, it was clear that it would be a little too much. This is where I got to practice saying no, even though the idea of good company in beautiful surroundings was very inviting.
Not long after my texted reply declining the invitation had gone through, there was a response, explaining that all the guys were tired after a late night, and had decided on a less strenuous route much closer to home.
Decision time once again. This time, in favour. They would pick me up mid-morning on the way to the Seven Hills.
This is my pet name for the `Siebengebirge´, a range of hills on the east bank of the Rhein, just upstream from Bonn in the beautiful Rhein Valley.
The Seven Hills, which is now a designated nature reserve, consists of more than forty hills. They are of ancient volcanic origin and came into being between 28 and 15 million years ago. Much of the steep undulant territory is covered by dense deciduous forest, comprising mainly beech and oak.
The oldest name was not Siebengebirge, but Sieben Berge (seven hills). Seen from the west or north, the skyline shows seven distinctive peaks. The highest is the Ölburg at 460 metres above sea level, rising 400 metres or 1,200 ft. from the surrounding Rhein Plain. This profile of seven hills is exactly what can be seen from my home by the river, almost 30 km downstream, halfway between Bonn and Cologne.
In times past, the number seven denoted an arbitrary number of items, was connected to magic and thus had a highly symbolic meaning. This makes it an obvious name for an area that was considered rather sinister due to its relative impenetrability until well into the 19th century.
It is one of my favourite hiking destinations, only 30 minutes drive from my home. The forested hills have a magical flair which varies in quality from season to season. This weekend, for example, we hiked in snow, although there is no snow on the ground at home, at river level (69m). It is almost as if a different climate zone exists upriver, just around a few of her sweeping bends.
In a few short weeks from now, the first lime green buds will begin to shimmer on the tips of the sylvan twigs and millions of acorns and beech masts, answering the ancient call of spring, will be shoving up through the forest carpet of last autumn’s litter. These will soon be joined by the blues, yellows, and whites of bluebells, lesser celandine, and woodruff.
Birdsong will, by then, have shifted to the more intense and full-bodied pace of allegro vivace, filled with excitement, optimism, and promise.
Later, in high summer, it is wonderful to hike in the refreshing shade of the forest, especially when nighttime thunderstorms have fed into the countless cool streams that run down the mountain sides. It is a real joy to experience this natural spectacle just a few miles from the sweltering hustle and bustle of daily life, visible from one of the many lookouts which oversee the Rhein Valley below.
Later again, when the leaves begin to turn, a hike here can be routed through some of the vineyards which adorn the south-facing slopes of the hills, with their golden haze providing a highlighting backdrop for the abundance of delicious, ripe, dark grapes. This region, once the north-western boundary of the Roman empire, is very proud of the ancient tradition of winemaking, introduced by those Romans two thousand years ago.
Yesterday was a good day for a slow hike. With snow under foot and some stretches quite icy, it was important to be mindful with each step taken. Rest was enjoyed several times to consume the wholesome food and drink each of us had prepared and brought with us for the day.
Our irreligious yet deeply spiritual ritual of stepping into a church to have a picnic was omitted, since there were no such premises on our route. We made do with a bench in the cool afternoon sunshine. We had, however, planned to have coffee and cake at a café in the ancient village below at the end of our wandering.
The warmth of the cosy parlour in the hallowed timber-framed house and the aroma of fresh coffee were very welcome after our gallivanting in the near-freezing temperatures outside.
The conversations among us four wandering men were varied and enjoyable. Men and feelings. Feelings and men. The gift of children and the importance of our presence as fathers. The absence of our fathers in childhood and how we come to grieve such losses.
We expressed appreciation for the gift of the discoveries of the past one hundred and fifty years in terms of behavioural psychology and explored the age-old phenomenon of our children learning, not from what we say, but from how we behave.
We discussed and celebrated the resources at our disposal today, resources which were not available to our parents and theirs, generations marked by the trauma of world wars, authoritarian ideologies, addiction, and the inability to grieve.
We looked at the challenges of living well in a society which appears, on the collective level, to be becoming increasingly dis-eased. What are our values and how can we best convey them? How do we provide hope to the next generation? Where can encouragement be found in an era of climate warming and mass extinction? How to remain sane in a crazy world and provide safe havens for our families and communities?
These topics seem so much lighter when discussed in the beautiful surroundings of a wooded winter wonderland. The mood was light, with dollops of humour to add spice to the constantly flowering conversations. Silence sometimes enveloped us too, as we stopped intermittently to rest and take in the fabulous views.
Consensus evolved around the principle of personal responsibility for our own healing, growth, and further development. We also agreed that this dynamic proceeds from the inside out by engaging in practices that establish peace of mind and a heightened awareness of the nature of worldly stimuli and how we can best respond to them. We celebrated ourselves, each other, the beautiful surroundings, and the gift of our male companionship.
Awareness was the topic to which we kept returning. We each spoke about what helps us cultivate a heightened sense of awareness in a world infused by the weapons of mass distraction. Whether it be yoga, music, nature, Twelve Step recovery, PQ Mental Fitness, or any of the myriad modalities of therapy available today, we have a rich selection from which to choose.
We can utilize our heightened awareness in our interactions and transmit it in concentric ripples in our relationships, our families, workplaces, communities, and throughout society.
In the exuberance of youth, we had set out to change the world. Now, having reached midlife, we realise that the only person we can change is the one clad in our own skin, while recognising that that change, once manifested, may affect healing, growth, and development among those with whom we interact, one day at a time, if we are willing to share what we find.
Sunday’s hike was enjoyable, invigorating, and inspiring. To echo the words of Henry David Thoreau: `I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than trees.´
