The Gummy Trails: solo summer
It’s difficult being alone and in college; you see others around you having the college experience with their friends that would be core parts of their lives. I started to wonder if something was wrong with me, and why I had been alone for so long. I was in this self-pitying pit of despair over and over again; I had nothing to do with my free time besides throwing myself into restless work. But slowly, I started to wake up out of this dream of the reality around me and the idea of my individual suffering. I learned how to be by myself, and that I never really know what peace is being sacrificed when I seek these relationships around me. Being alone has taught me to create enough internal space to allow all the parts of myself to coexist, the good and the bad. Because you can’t truly swat out the bad parts like a fly, you have to learn to coexist with them and find a way to enjoy yourself anyway.
Who’s gonna match my freak?
me. I will match my freak.
On my noble quest of solitude, I sought out tranquility from nature to find peace within and with the unique journey that I’m on. Sometimes, you’re on the right path when you can’t see it ahead of you. Being in nature has taught me that I’m not actually alone, I have this stunning abundance of earth’s beauties around me: the waves that rock you like a mother soothing her child, the sand you feel between your toes even though you hate that it gets in every inch of your car, and the birds that give the forest life and reminded you to wake up this morning.
I originally started going on adventures around Tallahassee out of boredom and to escape sitting with the feeling of loneliness and with the true me, but soon I started going because I began to crave being in nature. I learned that my feelings of loneliness were stemming from being uncomfortable with myself and who I truly am. When I learned how to be comfortable and accept all the parts of me, I started having fun being alone, and gained more confidence to go on crazy adventures and take myself to dinners and movies. One of these crazy adventures was impulsively deciding to wake up one morning at 6:30 a.m. to drive an hour and a half to an outdoor adventure place I just researched the night before. This insane journey is now one of my favorite memories; I had no idea what I was doing, but I had so much fun doing it.
My journey began at the crack of dawn as the birds were calmingly chirping outside and my phone was yelling at me to wake up. I made coffee with my small, stove-top moka pot and inhaled my Trader Joe’s bacon egg bites. I was out the door by 7:15 and scrambled to throw together a road trip playlist as my half-awake body walked me to the elevator.
No one knows who I am here, and no one would know.
The road trip was pure bliss and while nine-to-five commuters clogged the opposite lanes, my side of the road was open for miles. After an hour of singing along to my road trip playlist as loud and as horribly as I wanted, I saw a sign for Dunkin’ Donuts at the next exit. It felt like the only Dunkin’ Donuts in this entire part of the state, and there was only one person in line at the drive through when I got there. Somehow, this whole side quest took thirty minutes and left me with an extra sausage cheddar and iced caramel latte…but with oat milk? The kind worker that came out to give me my drink and I will never know how this happened. When I got back on the road and eventually arrived at Cypress Springs Adventures, I sat in my car awaiting my reservation time. I had left way too early and was completely oblivious to the change in timezones. I thought I had time traveled or woke up in a parallel universe by accident when I saw that my car’s clock and my phone were suddenly incorrect halfway through the drive.
When I parked, I took my gummy and put sunscreen on my face, the tunes distantly playing in the background as I hummed them. I was far away from Tallahassee, and no one knows where I am. No one knows who I am here, and no one would know. To me, that’s freedom.
At 9:15, I went to the front office to pay for my kayak rental and was greeted by very welcoming staff. My confidence slowly diminished as I stood in front of the counter to pay, the edge of the counter digging into the bottom of my arms, as I tried to soak up as much information as this woman was throwing at me. “We’re going to drop you off here,” the worker explained, pointing to a map with her pen. “You’ll paddle for about fifteen to twenty minutes until you see a sharp right turn into an opening. There should also be an arrow indicating it. Keep going straight until you reach the rope swings and boats.” Should be?
“Got it,” I nodded.
“On your way back, after passing the big opening, make a right and follow the river’s flow,” she continued, tracing the path on the map. “The entire trail takes about an hour to an hour and a half. Look for white arrows and a pipe indicating the first pickup point. If you want a longer journey, continue downstream, following these curves.” … Curves?
This Bullshit
With my map more confusing than ever and covered in squiggles, notes, and arrows, I applied the rest of my sunscreen outside and waited for the shuttle to the drop-off point about five minutes away. Once we were there and on the river, I was cool, calm, and collected for the first ten minutes of the ride. However, it started to dawn on me that this river was not as small and simple as the map holding on for dear life in the waistband of my shorts seemed. There were tens of hundreds of random trees. How am I supposed to look for old painted arrows on these? I felt in over my head as I stared blankly at the map, the current drifting me forward. I suddenly realized that this was the first time in my life that I was reading an actual physical map.
There was an older couple in front of me in a double kayak that would end up being my savior, my guide. They seemed to know where they were going, but I didn’t care because I would rather be lost with other people than alone. I tried to follow them as un-creepily as possible, even though we came from the same program, and I soon started to see the large opening the front desk lady told me about. Hope was restored as I saw the swimming area up ahead and took a breather. I slowed down a little, as I had been hardcore paddling to catch up with the kayak powered by two people, including a hairy, grown man.
Don’t hit me up, I’m kayaking
As I approached the spring after taking the sharp right, I began to relax more. (No…I could not find the indicator arrow hidden amongst the trees.) I felt my body begin to lighten, yet I was still aware of it. My mouth began to dry and the trees without an abundance of color started to become beautiful, and I started to notice the wildlife in the murky waters below. The sun began to give me warmth life as I started to become more aware that the air I was breathing was being shared by the nature around me. The air inside my lungs was the same as the air outside. I could hear the trees breathe and move by rustling their leaves, the chirping of the birds overpowering all the other sounds around me. They echoed through the entire forest and lingered.
I went with the current, just like I’ve always done.
I found an opening on the shore of the spring to leave my kayak on and leaned against the backrest, and just breathed, taking in the scenery. I got out of my boat and lied on top of the water for a moment, the cool water on my back while I let the river drift me along. The water was 65 degrees all year long, and it felt amazing. I heard the movements of water and voices from afar below. The waves from fellow swimmers jumping in rocked me back and forth and I went with the current, just like I’ve always done. On these dreamlike adventures, I learned how to connect with nature, because it’s more than taking in beautiful scenery and reflecting. In that kayak, it looked like I was taking a nap, but I was more present than I ever have been in reality, in myself. I was only thinking about my lungs inhaling and exhaling as I began to teach myself how to connect with the moment. When I’m not thinking about anything in this altered state, and I’m just focusing on breathing and the nature around me, I wake up and remember that I share that consciousness with everything around me.
I took a gummy and it gave me a hug.
