Although the day in itself was relatively perfect, minus a big black cloud looming in the distance and threatening trouble, I had to force myself to remember that there's a reason why the hiking season doesn't usually start until June. Actually, there are several: 1. higher-altitude hiking is impossible until June when the snow is melted, and the ground has had a chance to dry up; 2. mid-level hiking on lower-altitude routes are often filled with muds and/or closed due to mudslides. The spring run-off keeps everything fairly wet for the next few months.
The good news is that a friend of mine from Bootcamp mentioned a short but scenic trail in Lynn Headwaters National Park that is made of gravel, and so usually less muddy than the alternative, more adventurous routes around.
Itching to throw on my shoes and go outside, a nice jaunt on a nicely groomed trail sounded perfect. I wasn't up for anything overly exerting today, but just a regular dose of nature. Something I've been missing for quite sometime.
Lynn Valley is only about 20 minutes from Vancouver, just outside of North Vancouver across the Lions Gate Bridge.
It is filled with lush ferns, tall tall Douglas Firs, and a mossy canopy not unlike the temperate rainforest on Vancouver Island.
As soon as we parked, I donned my back pack, toque, and camera and Beamer and I walked down a windy 1 km road to the trail head. The breeze was cool. The black cloud was closing in. But the air was fresh. And the scenery was, as usual, spectacular!
Although the deciduous trees were all still bare, they were littered with tiny green and pink and brown buds. Poking through the ground cover were bright lime shoots. Even the fungi were beautiful - pearl pinks, bright oranges, and bumblebee yellows. It looked like the forest was filled with gum drops. For my eyes, it was certainly candy. And for my mind too.
With every corner and every new bud and colour and sign of new life, a weight lifted from my shoulders. As I skipped rocks in arguably the most beautiful creek I have ever seen with its polished rocks in every shade of brown, the stress from my little world lifted. As we rounded a corner and found ourselves ankle deep in moss and rocks and budding new life, my uncertainty for the future disappeared.
As I snapped photos of the pearly-pink fungi on an old tree stump, I felt invigorated with creativity. As Beamer dipped her dry paws into the cool creek water and pointed her nose upward, as if inhaling the beauty of the day, all the silly little things that had been gnawing at my insides, were swallowed, and instantly gone. As I paused with my hand on the gnarly bark of an old fir tree, my trepidations were dismissed. 
I was free. And I was me again. Ah...
I was thinking too, of this lovely little trail, maybe 4-5 km in length, that this would be a great spot to start doing some trail running. I've been looking to get into it, but most "trails" are for advanced runners only. This seems like it might be a great place to start. It's short, well-groomed, relatively flat with a few challenging inclines. and, best of all, it is so beautiful that I doubt I would ever feel like I was running; i'd probably just feel like I was free.
I'm going to pick up a pair of trail runners this week and give the trail a running go the weekend after next.
Nature has a wonderful way of healing.
Thank you, Nature. I needed you today.
