Deciding whether to venture onto an unfamiliar trail was difficult and brought up fear – but choosing, rather than deciding, got me through to the river.
Deciding whether to venture onto an unfamiliar trail was difficult and brought up fear – but choosing, rather than deciding, got me through to the river. It was a hot day in Nevada City, where I was staying with a friend for a few days. I had the afternoon free and wanted to explore the Yuba River, so I decided to head out on my own to find a shady refuge by the water.
I hoped to find a quiet place on the river to do Sit Spot. But when I arrived and ambled around the main access path down to the water, it was clear there was little shade, and no peace and quiet. In these temperatures, everyone was swimming and partying at the river.
Which meant that if I were to find a more peaceful spot, I’d have to set off on a trail. A trail I had never been on and didn’t know how long it was. The only one to be found ascended the hill along the western side of the river. Did it descend back down to the water? Was it super steep? How many miles to where I could dip my toes in the current? I had no idea, but there was only one way to find out.
I had noticed a lot of poison oak in the areas near the swimming holes, and this trail was no different. Fears were looming in my consciousness. Steep drop-off to my right, down to the river. Poison oak on both sides. Steps continuing to ascend, in the heat. Oh, and rattlesnakes – I had been warned there were rattlers in the area. The path is going further and further from the river’s side. Trepidation was slowing my footsteps in uncertainty.
I don’t have to do this hike, I said to myself. Maybe I’m having an intuition that something’s wrong. But maybe it’s just my old fear shutting me down from a solo adventure. What should I do? Decide to commit to this hike, or not?
I felt stuck in indecision. So I tried a different tactic. Every few minutes, I would stop and ask myself, “do I choose to continue?” At any point, I can choose to stop and turn around. And I can also choose to continue for a few more minutes. Right now, I choose to continue.
As I rounded a small corner, I jumped; at chest height, a ledge, it looked like a small snake with diamonds
on its back! A rattler! But in a split second I noticed it was rooted in the ground, with another one next to it. Just some sort of metal infrastructure for the trail, but it combined with my fear to cause my survival instinct to kick in.
Well, I thought, I’m going to need to be aware of these illusory fears at the same time as being conscious of the hazards along the way. One hazard is potentially real, and the other is a psychological hazard that hinders me from exploration.
Do I choose to continue? Yes, I do. And with mindful awareness – being Present and grounded in my body – I move forward. Relaxed, yet attentive to my thoughts, perceptions and what I notice with my senses.
What was that sound? Did I hear rattling? It was hard to discern – the river rushing in the gully below sounded a bit like that. Then there was a different buzzing; no, that was the cicadas. But what about that more raspy sound? Ah, it was the wind gently blowing the dried buckeye leaves, hanging brown and crisp from the branches. Once again, although my senses were attuned, my mind misinterprets what I notice.
Thank goodness I have inner discernment, as I walk through fears bit by bit. Yes, I choose to continue!
The path ascends a bit more, then rolling up and down, twisting and turning. I pause regularly from time to time, checking in with all parts of myself to make sure that I am not overriding serious concerns. But each time I observe myself, the fears seem unfounded.
Others traverse the trail with me. They let me know that I could access the river through small side trails that have been created by adventurers – and those are rife with poison oak. But if I continued for about a mile, I’d reach a crossing, where there was a “beach” of sorts, and the trail meets the river.
Resuming my walk, my confidence builds bit by bit, overcoming the fears that always want me to stop and go back to where it was safe and predictable. Do I choose to continue? Yes, I do.
Finally, as I amble down a more gravelly (and somewhat slippery) part of the trail, I turn a corner and see a sign up ahead, surrounded by more large, whitish boulders. “Hoyt Crossing”. I’ve made it! A few hundred feet past the sign, the foliage diminishes, the path opens up, and I’ve arrived at the rocky beach alongside the Yuba river.
I choose to continue – and I arrive at the river!
Elation and celebration! I drop my pack and hop over rocks to get to a pool of water, where I dunk my feet, shoes and all. Hooray! I made it! The cool water washes away the dust of delusion from my sandals and I realize this was really no big deal. What made it so big in my mind was the projections of fear into uncertainty.
Finding a spot in the shade, I enjoy a snack, observe plants that are new to me, watch others enjoying the refreshing waters, and reflect on my experience.
I didn’t judge myself for having fear and anxiety. That’s common and very human. What felt so good was that I found a way to gently encourage myself; by remembering that I could choose all along the way. It was empowering to know that I always have choices in my actions, perceptions, and responses to life.
The hike back was, of course, much easier – I knew what to expect. The fears were quelled and replaced with gratitude. I’m so glad I chose to continue and reached my goal. But mostly I was glad that I gave myself choices, never forcing nor abandoning myself all along the way.
