Mercy Hike

My husband knows when I need to get out and wander. Years ago, he used to plead with me to get out and hit the trails (on my lazy days that is – otherwise I was driving on the road before sunrise). Now that I am without wheels, hitting the trails is difficult. It’s always somewhat difficult but now, almost impossible because I just cannot take the only car we have right now and head off to the mountains. It doesn’t seem fair. In fact, it seems selfish. I don’t want to be selfish.

This past Thursday, I mumbled something about trying to get out the next day for a hike. My husband jumped at the idea and offered to come along. Usually, I do the asking. But he offered. So, the last Friday in January (1/27), we headed out the door at about 9:30 am for a nice long stroll along The Great Suburban Trail, known by everyone else as Arroyo Trabuco Trail. After a 20 minute commute, we parked in the lot of a small Las Flores park. Then we crossed Antonio Parkway and caught a trail that took us behind a planned community where we hiked down a steep service road to Tijeras Creek Trail for a 12+ mile stroll to O’Neill Park and back.

The Green of a Southern California winter surrounded us. Chartreuse colored carpets of grass filled the meadows, clumps of green mistletoe hung from giant sycamores. Tijeras and Arroyo Trabuco were both flowing nicely, in addition to multiple tributaries meandering throughout the basin. Scrambling through the brush, we couldn’t find a place to cross Tijeras Creek, so for the first creek crossing, I removed my shoes and socks and waded through the ice cold water over hard slippery rocks. Well, that was enough of that. There were just too many crossings to do this every time.

Tijeras Creek Crossing:

Near Tijeras Creek & Arroyo Trabuco Creek Junction:

Felt so good to get out and get my legs moving. I didn’t mind the wet feet. I even packed a spare pair of socks that I didn’t change into. I admit, I was a little tired on the return. But I like that feeling – it’s familiar, and it’s rewarding. I often use the words “trashed” or “thrashed” to describe that feeling of really overworking the body. Well, I didn’t get trashed on this adventure. But it was close. Toward the end,  I was beginning to feel it in my hamstrings and quads. (Hurts so good!)

Back at home, I thanked my husband for my mercy hike.

He asked, “Is that what that was?”

“Perhaps.”

“ Well, I sometimes have you do things you don’t really want to do.”

“Indeed.”

More of the Great Suburban Trail:

A little over 12.5 miles