CLIMBING OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE

You may not know this about me but, as a rule, I don't walk anywhere that I can't see where my feet are going. I'm not a fan of snakes, especially the kind that wave around a maraca. My hubby thinks it's hi-larious that I spent my entire life trying to get out of the suburbs, but now that I'm finally out in the country, I refuse to wander around in my own front yard, with the waist-high grasses. I love the view from my balcony, though. So, when I take my walks, I usually stick to the pavement. Problem is, after a while, you get pretty tired of walking the only three streets in your neighborhood, day after day.

When the Blue Hole Park opened up a couple of years ago, I began walking there for a change of pace. I knew there were some nature trails there, but I stuck to the nice wide jog/bike path. Not only because of snakes, but also because I have no sense of direction. Seriously. Apparently I suffer from an inability to rotate images in my head, so not only do I have to map out how to get someplace, I also have to map out the reverse course if I want to get home again. So, a winding path with lots of forks and branches, and no map to guide me? Hubby said "I can see the headlines now: Wimberley woman wanders lost for days, within a few feet of her own car!"

After awhile, though, I got bored again. So I ventured out on the tiny bit of trail that led up past the scenic overlook. Once I made it as far as the pavilion, however, I would always circle over to the pavement and head back to my car.

But, you guessed it, I got bored again. Plus, I got this Fitbit doohickey, and was a bit obsessed with finding new ways to get more steps each day. Eventually, I put on my big girl panties and followed this path to the far hinterlands of the park.

What did I find there? I found my Fortress of Solitude.

I found a tree cathedral, where the wind soughed through their branches, making a soft clacking noise reminiscent of bamboo windchimes.

The first time I came to this fork in the road, I chickened out and went to the right -- the one that headed back toward pavement. The next day I stood there for a moment, then said "What the hell? If I get lost, I get lost!"

The left path led me down a little ravine, to a mostly dry creek bed.

To my left was a water-filled depression, where a horde of lusty frogs were singing an ode to spring at the top of their lungs! Nothing to my right. Guess those stacked stones over there mean I'm supposed to cross the creek and climb out on the other side.

Next thing I know, I'm walking along the top of a cliff, looking down on the creek from afar.

At one point I connected with the hike & bike for a while, but soon I was able to head back into the trees.

I had no clue there were actually campsites in the park!

Eventually, I wound up right back where I started, having circled around all the sports fields and parking lots in the center of the park.

Each day I went back, taking different forks each time. Suddenly my walks weren't so boring anymore! And all it took was me peeking out over the edge of my little box.

A few days ago I sent an email to my friend Outdoor Woman, asking if she knew of any maps showing all the different trails in the park. She just sent me this Blue Hole master plan, and asked if I needed a guide to go walking with me. After looking it over I sent back a note saying "No thanks. Looks like I've pretty much covered them all already." Her reply? "Who are you? And why are you using Becky's email address?!!!"