A Winter Walk

Pendleton's Passage

An outdoor walk in January is a task to be reckoned with. Getting dressed for the occasion is not to be taken lightly, but a walk by the sea is just what the doctor ordered to assuage the potential for cabin fever. 

Four friends decided to make the effort. We added lots of layers for warmth, boots, hats, mitts, scarves, and huge coats. I added cleats to my boots to handle the ice. We hoped for a rich experience in return for our efforts.

The snow crunched under our feet as we tramped a path through thick brown grass. We trudged on and off the deer path down toward the cove. An eagle hovered high, directly above us. A spectacular treat for the eyes. Louise thanked the bird for its performance. The spread of its wings negotiated with the wind. Its white head and tail feathers contrasted with the blue of the sky. 

We continued the journey, passing through a birch tree portal and on into the small forest. The wind did not follow us. The forest bed felt soft underfoot, even in mid-January. 

The path led down the hill to the waterfront of rocky ledges and tidal waters. It seemed a happy place - where serenity is master and time doesn’t exist.

In the quietude, conversation was easy. Tranquillity seeped into our bones. The cold air had a soothing effect on our breathing. We continued our journey with no scheduled end. 

Back up into the wood, we stepped cautiously as if walking amongst giants. The trees stood tall and stately, rising up through the air. It was their roots that showed signs of the battle for life. Twisted branches that bent down to the ground had taken root to become their own separate living thing. 

We stumbled over camouflaged stumps, and picked our way through the bramble, defining new paths to the road. 

Not ready to call it a day yet, we clomped onto an old road and up the mountain for which the road is named. 

We paused to view Pendleton Passage where the Bay of Fundy pushes through to the Passamaquoddy. It’s a breathtaking view every time. The white of the birch trees in the foreground give entrance to the spectacular lookout. 

Freshly fallen great trees barred the direct paths, but a walk around under branches, tree trunks, sidelining iced puddles gave definition to an uneven trail. Oyster mushrooms, too high to reach, looked down at us and the turkey tails clutched to tree trunks ignored us. 

A few more stumbles, and we arrived at a meadow where sleeping apple trees were nature’s only remains of an old homestead. The house foundation was now a hollow in the ground.

We were sated with our experience and quickly picked our way back  to the house over exposed bits of pavement and sand. We were ready to feel our home’s warmth and enjoy the richness of mugs of steaming hot chocolate!