The first time hiking in Acadia, I
took the Beachcroft trail, beginning with a set of granite steps for more than
half a mile
until I reached an overlook above
the valley pond that’s called the Tarn which lies beneath the steep expansive
side of Dorr Mountain.
From there I scrambled up the face
of Champlain Mountain's pink slick granite and low evergreens until I reached
its naked dome.
There I was ascending when the
barrier of summit disappeared and right before my eyes was nothing but the
great blue sea of luminous Atlantic.
It hit me like a mystic ton of
spectacle and infinite reflection, as if my body had just opened up revealing deeper breadth I never knew was there.
Long sighs came sweeping from the
vast horizon where I glimpsed a cloud or two above ancestral shores of Nova
Scotia, if not France itself.
My heart was sky, my feet were
earth, and no-mind was my state of being. No wonder I'd return to walkabout for corresponding seeing.
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