An Eightwednesday Easter

I often write possible entries to this blog on paper when the mood strikes or I’m on the go. The majority of these entries are posted in a timely manner. But, while organizing my notes with the close of the Spring 2012 semester, I discovered one that slipped through the cracks. Despite its ties to a specific holiday, I still like the story. So let’s go back to the cool, early spring weather and celebrate an Eightwednesday Easter.

On Easter morning proclamations of “he is risen” were impossible to avoid on Facebook. It seems like not even at Christmas are posts praising Jesus so prevalent. But rather than take my own faith to Facebook, Chris and I elected to experience the holy day in nature’s church. We were going to hike up a mountain.

Shingletown is a short drive from my home in Pennsylvania. At best, it’s a speck or blink of the eye along Pennsylvania State Route 45 between the slightly larger communities of Boalsburg and Pine Grove Mills in Centre County. It rests at the foot of a broad ridge, Tussey Mountain, where the Happy Valley sweeps open. A turn onto the aptly titled Mountain Road travels past homes and farms before ending at the Shingletown Reservoir and Shingletown Gap. From here, it’s all uphill!

The reservoir in Shingletown is interesting, it still dutifully serves its purpose, but the stone-lined spillways give away its true age. People have been living here for a long time. Before even beginning the hike we had to investigate. Naturally, the creek feeding the reservoir also proved to be the first challenge. In order to cross the creek we carefully tiptoed over a jam of tree limbs into the arms of a rhododendron patch.

Brushing off the remnants of the rhododendron upward we went, chasing blue blazes along a water carved creek. The forest reminded us both of those at higher elevations in the southwest. At the first plateau we found firepits and evidence of how others elect to enjoy the land, not necessarily making stewardship a priority.

On the hike up, between fits of breathlessness (I’m not in as good a shape as I should be!), we recognized the value and significance of the day. We discussed religion in depth and from perspectives of individual experience, cultural expectations, and even scientifically. We asked questions and considered faith collaboratively. We contemplated those same things others were while they were simultaneously seated in pews.

We approached a fork in the trail. The only hint on the correct direction was the GPS, indicating the distance to and direction of our target, neither of which was helpful at this point. Decision points like this in the woods are what make me feel most human and free. Wayfinding, of course, is a fundamental component of transportation, both in terms of user behavior and facility design.

Our choice quickly took us up from the plateau to the top of the ridge. The last 40’ offered sweeping views of the Happy Valley. A short search yielded a geocache find while we felt both immeasurably large and miniscule. No one from below would notice us up there, but we could see everything for miles and miles. We breathed in the cool air of success.

Before we knew it, we were looking at the creek. Only a few hundred feet from the car! We elected to take off our shoes and go barefoot. Chris passed successfully and then I took my turn. Three quarters across the frigid water, I slipped. The dry shoes in my hand splashed into the creek. I suddenly realized exactly how cold my feet were. At this point, on my hands and knees in the creek, I look to my left and realized it was all unnecessary. A large tree had fallen across the creek and fashioned to act as a bridge.

Not sure I would’ve received such a cold lesson in humility if I’d just gone to church. Even so, best Easter ever.