The Beautifulness of Unknowing

An unknown path

Unexpected Beauty

"When legs are working, the brain rests."

Anticipating a 9 km hike classified as medium difficulty,  I give myself repeated pep talks. "You did a 9 km dinner hike a couple of weeks ago and survived. You even enjoyed it. You made new friends. You love hiking."  Well, this Friday morning hike reminds me that unless the route is familiar,  it could be a long pleasant stroll or a slightly excruciating endurance  test.  This particular hike turns out to be the latter.   The six of us, four women  of a certain age and one gentleman who could  pass for a mountain goat, bravely negotiate the cliffs and valleys of this hilly forested area in the Lot Valley, about thirty minutes by car from Monflanquin.  The shade of the forest protects us from the surrounding  sticky heat and humidity. However, my T shirt drips with sweat from the continual climbing up and down the craggly rocky trails.  We chat  amicably among ourselves in French and English. The chatting  strongly prohibits me from screaming. "What the hell was I thinking  by signing up for this hike?"  But watch me go, up and down, down and up, intrepidly clinging to my walking stick navigating thick mud which transforms my hiking boots into mud magnets.  My mind must not wander, but stay in the present so all my attention focuses on admiring the loveliness of the forest and keeping me safe. The gentleman mountain goat  points out the starts of mushrooms,  a ruin of a house hidden among the trees, the formation of a rising cliff.  

Discussion turns to which trail to pursue; which is more picturesque, which is shorter.  I offer no opinion. I never do.  My relief that  no one  expects  me to know anything about these trails equates to  a free pass, a kind of joy that I can just be part of this fantastic hiking group.  No pressure, no responsibility. My only job requires keeping  up with the group and  admiring the scenery.  I love not needing to know. It makes for a pleasant change from real life in which the insistence  on knowing can be unforgivingly relentless in certain circumstances.  Not knowing and not needing to know is a beautiful thing.