A Walk In The Woods

Andrew Donovan [@ap_donovan]
Oct 26, 2015
2 min read

Yesterday I went for a walk in the woods.

It was my first walk in the woods since returning home from six-months backpacking Europe. And while Europe’s architectural, historical and natural wonders are, in some cases, one of a kind, there’s something special about the autumn season in Canada.

My walk began at the Palgrave Wildlife and Forest Area (PWFA) in the north-east of Caledon, Ontario; it’s a favourite spot of mine for many reasons, but mainly because it’s a 10-minute drive from my dad’s place.

I parked my car in the PWFA parking lot and was greeted by the big smiles and wide-eyes of a group of cyclists. The beauty of this particular wildlife area is that the paths are big enough for both riders and walkers. Everyone seems to get along harmoniously without the need of signs or enforcement. Imagine that.

Anyways, I saw everything from surprisingly well-constructed lean-tos to mammal skulls all while being enveloped in the warm yellows of half-barren trees.

Halfway into my 2-hour hike, I found a freshly downed tree. The tree feel across a shallow valley and below was a sea of yellow, orange leaves. Birds swooped down every so often and picked bugs and debris from the leaves.

I walked to the centre of the tree and had lunch, a peanut butter and banana sandwich. My feet dangled above the sea of leaves in the valley below. I felt like a kid again, playing aimlessly in nature. Eating the same lunch I would have when I was five. It felt good to feel like a kid.

I pulled out my notebook and began making notes of the life around me. The sounds, the smells – the incredibly fresh smells of fallen leaves and evergreens – and the odd person who’d walk by without ever noticing the twenty-five-year-old bearded dude practicing balancing on a fallen tree in the middle of a deserted forest.

I tend to think best when I’m not thinking at all: the shower, the shitter, whilst I cycle or when I hike. It gives credence to the value of Zen or mindfulness in respect to the creative process.

Anyways, the rest of my hike was uneventful, but I like it that way. When I hike, I want to get away from all the commotion of life in the city, of life online, of life on television, of life dominated by the ego. Trees and squirrels and deer aren’t impressed by how you look, what you eat or how many friends you have.

How refreshing.