Blue Marsh Lake
I feel as though the 2-3 week period that fall transitions to winter is the most beautiful and mystical time of the year. Everything seems eerily still and quiet as if the landscape is preparing for its inevitable war with Mother Nature. Leaves and twigs scatter the ground like shrapnel on a battlefield and the air is bitter and sharp. Hiking during this time is especially magical because you feel like a civilian in the crossfire, trotting across a once familiar terrain that has been altered for battle. Each step is accompanied by the crunch of leaves, or the crack of a twig that echoes through the woods alerting the wild life that a stranger is approaching.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to grab a couple of friends and venture over to Blue Marsh Lake just before the sunset. Stepping out of the car my friends and I bounded down to the lake and watched an orange sun sink behind the mountains reflecting its golden light off the mirrored surface of the water. With the light that peered out from behind the mountains we embarked on one of the trails that are present at blue marsh for what was meant to be a short hike. We walked for a few minutes before crossing a little creek that flowed in the direction of the lake. Immediately after crossing the bridge we climbed a hill before emerging into a huge field with a trail encompassing the perimeter.
My friends and I walked the trail before coming across a little path in the woods that snaked its way to a different part of the lake. Here we searched for rocks to skip, each skip creating small ripples that disrupted the pristine waters, and sat down on a piece of drift wood as the sun cast its final rays on this earth. Our voices seemed to be the only noise for miles as it traveled across the water radiating outwards in all directions. Eventually, we decided to walk back to the car choosing to follow a different trail in the twilight. The entire trip was a serene adventure, a way to escape and rebuff before facing another daunting week.