Escape to Nature

Not content with spending a beautiful day indoors watching TV or reading, I went out. Not content with the seminary campus, I went out looking for nature. Not content with the manmade parks, I went out. Out to the edge of the urban sprawl. Out to the Jefferson Memorial Forest. I went to read and admire God's providence and creation. To glory the King of Kings, I went out.
I arrive at the forest after getting lost with directions from MapQuest. I go to the Welcome Center, which is closed, and find no parking. Undeterred I entered the recreation center looking for parking. I found the lake; it is more like a glorified pond. Yet, big enough to be classified as a lake. I quickly find parking and then I'm out exploring the forest. I brought with me my backpack; in it are my notebook, Bible, and a book I hoped to read. I also have my water bottle. I will need it.
I walk down the road looking for a way down to the lake area, where people are bar-be-cueing, fishing, having birthday parties, spending time with family. They like me, wanted to escape to nature. I find my way down and notice benches by the lake, I do not head that way. I am looking for quiet and solitude. There are children playing and laughing on the playground. Loudly. I am not content with being by the lake. I set out on the first trail I find: The Tulip Tree Trail. Forty-five seconds into it, I hear no playground noise. I pass parents with their children, teaching them about nature. I'm looking for a secluded bench where I can sit, read, and reflect. At the end of the 0.2-mile trail, I find a shelter. It is occupied. No good.
I turn around and head back. Back past the parents, I just walked by. Back to the playground. I walk past it to a new trail. This trail will take me along the edge of the forest and the lake. It is beautiful. It is mid-afternoon and the sun is casting shadows of the trees on the lake. People are catching frogs. Little girls telling their dads that they want him to catch two. There is the smell of pine trees intermingled with the smell of fresh water intermingled with the smell of food cooking over a fire. I am happy.
This trail leads to a decision. Do I continue ahead to the Welcome Center behind a family of 6? Do I turn left and head toward the Purple Heart Trail? Or do I turn right and head up the hill to a new place, where there seems to be no one?
I turn right, because the trail seemed to be alone like I was. This new trail leads up away from the lake. Up a hill and into the words. The sounds of happy families fade behind. There is no road sounds. No sounds of civilization at all, except for the occasional airplane. The only noise that could be heard was the noise of God's creation. Leaves rustling. Squirrels scampering around. The quiet, almost inaudible trickling of a brook. Absolute joy.
This trail has taken me to another fork. One up the hill, the other a ridgeline. There is a bee circling the trail ascending the hill, as to say danger. I opt for the ridgeline path. I am not disappointed. The view is breathtaking. Rolling hills covered with leaves, fallen trees, and nothing man made. God's creation as it should be. This trail is circling around the top of the hill. Wait, is that another trail? One that looks abandoned? It is! I must take it.
This forgotten path is not too overgrown with thorn bushes. I press on. To my left is the forest, to my right a house at the bottom of the hill. I begin to believe the path leads there. I stop for a drink of water where the path descends the hill. Three females come up behind me and head down. I wait on them to descend a little.
I put my water in my backpack. I strap around me, tightening it up. I'm ready to go down. However, I notice the path does dead end at the house. I turn around and go back to the other path. Unfortunately, the three females did not notice this on top of the hill like I did. They are at the bottom.
I go back to the previous path. Still in my quest for a place to sit, read, and reflect. The path leads up the hill and comes to a T-intersection with another path. One leads down the hill, most likely back to the lake. The other leads back up the hill for what could be a breathtaking view. I go up.
Up I walk. Reaching the summit and view the lake and the surrounding woods. I say to myself, "This is beautiful." I turn to continue on the path and I notice the airport in the distance. Even in 600+ acre forest, the urban sprawl finds its way in. It bothers me just for a few seconds. I go down the hill and join the path I was just on. Back to the three-way decision intersection.
This time I opt for the Welcome Center. I head that way and look to my left and see a small clump of pines. "I want to sit beneath those," I say to myself. "After the Welcome Center." I head on. This trail is too close to the road. The cars passing by disturb the tranquility. The birds and insect noises are not enough to quiet out the road noises from motorcyclists revving their engines and cars with their stereo's turned up too loud. I get a headache.
I stop for a moment on a bridge that is over a small creek and listen to the sound of the water as it cascades down the hill. A motorcycle interrupts this moment. I turn and press on toward the Welcome Center. I reach it and I am amazed at how much noise there is at this time of day at an out of the way place. I cross the road, in hopes of finding a new trail. I did not, yet I stop and admire the war memorial plague in front of the flagpole. I take a short break on a trail dedicated to Kentucky park workers. I then head back to the woods.
Back across the road. Back to the pines that beckoned me earlier. I make it to the pines. I get off the trail and blaze a new one to the group. I find no real place to sit. The ground is covered in thorn bushes. I have to give up that dream. I head back to the trail. I head to the pavilion at the end of the Tulip Tree Trail in hopes that it is empty. It is.
Beside the pavilion is a path that leads up a hill; I decide not to take it. I leave it for another day. I sit down and do not read. I start writing. I'm there for approximately 20 minutes, when a family disrupts my peace. I thought they would go on another trail. They did not. They seemed to have no regard for my privacy. I finish what I was writing and I head back to my car.
My feet hurt. My legs are a little wobbly. I am hot and sweaty. It has been worth it all. I may not have done what I had set out to do. Yet, what I received was worth much more. There are more paths to explore. More things to do there. I leave them for another day. Today, I am tired and head back to civilization. Next time, I will bring my camera and friends.