Yesterday my two roommates and I were all talking in the kitchen, discussing our love for travel and making loose plans to road-trip over the summer.
Until Harley spoke up.
“What’s stopping us from driving somewhere tomorrow?”
We all looked at each other and smiled. We’ve had many instances of plans falling through do to our different schedules and last minute excuses, so it’s almost funny when someone suggests something “for-real.”
“I’m all for it.” I wanted badly to get away for a little while. This college town wears on me like crusty mascara.
Then, suddenly, we were discussing the details. Who would drive, how gas was going to be cheap if we took the two and a half hour trek to Providence Canyon, Georgia, and just how beautiful it was going to be. We’d all seen pictures of the beautiful hiking trail, but none of us had actually been there. Why not give it a shot in the dark?
On Friday, Harley and I picked up Danielle from class at noon, swung by a Vegan lunch place to pick up baguette-style avocado toast for the road, and were on our way to away. Everyone had their turn to play music, and with the windows rolled down, rolling terrain that let us all know we were not in Florida anymore and happy hearts, we made our road-trip a reality in less than 24 hours.
When we arrived, we couldn’t yet see the canyon. I kind of liked this, because I wanted this to be our reward from hiking. When we followed each other on the red clay pathway, we breathed in the forrest air. It was a beautiful and quiet hike, none of us feeling the need to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter. We were nearing a bend, and caught a tiny glimpse of the red canyons. Looking past a DANGER: DO NOT ENTER sign, my roommates and I shimmied over the fence, feeling like high schoolers looking for trouble.
What we found?
The most beautiful view I have seen in a long, long time. Red canyons, imperfect and untouched pathways, a red, pizza-like pathway to nowhere..
I was the first to stand on this pizza slice of fear, wanting to thrill myself. Looking down, I saw that from where I was standing on either side, the clay could crumble down and I’d find myself falling hundreds of feet. I walked further onto it, away from the “crust” of the pizza, closed my eyes, and felt free.
My roommates followed after me. What can I say? I’m not the best example. Or am I?
We took photos on this pizza of thrill, sure that not many people who have hiked this trail have been able to take the same photos.
This was the best part of the hike: taking a spontaneous risk that pushed my boundaries a little further, an appetizer for my adventure craving. I needed to find this pizza of thrill in order to truly adore this trail and it’s sights, not just look at the breathtaking view alongside the trail path’s viewing sights and move along.
Driving home, I realized that these trips were to me as necessary as studying for exams.