End of Trail, Proceed No Farther

Except when you should.

What are you supposed to do when you reach the end? I suppose it depends on what we’re dealing with specifically and any number of contributing factors, doesn’t it? Whether or not you have truly arrived at a terminus is something that needs to be assessed on an individual basis. Sometimes it’s cut and dry. It is obvious that you can proceed no farther, or at least shouldn’t. And sometimes you can plainly see no harm in continuing on or have some existing knowledge that lets you know that this particular red light might technically still be green. Other times it’s as difficult to discern as anything else you’ll encounter on life’s journey.

For example, some hiking trails reside within extremely delicate ecosystems or in busy day-use areas. Where off-trail explorations, be they rare or frequent, can cause or are actively causing significant damage. While some paths come to an end in verdant, thriving wilderness areas that are far more resilient and equally less wandered. Where hidden treasures that take the forms of things like waterfalls and swimming holes are the booty to be had by those who continue the traverse.

But what about the end of a relationship? Or what looks to be, anyway. Or the end of a life? Not just for the person whose mortal trek has ended, but for the loved ones who remain standing at the viewpoint where their journey together ceased. Who goes farther, or further now, and how? I recognize that this is some highly individualized existential shit. And from my current perspective, I’m not so much concerned with the “What happens after we die” angle as some of the other timeless questions in there.

We are all traveling along multiple paths congruently at any given point in our lives. The path that was our life together has come to an end. But I know we don’t stop there. Though the terrain looks sketchy, confusing, and unfamiliar to me, I’ve seen countless others navigate similar stretches. I’ve watched them walk straight up to, and right on by that “End of Trail” sign. I just need to be mindful of my footing, take breaks, and keep my bearings. Because while that path technically ended, our journey together will continue in one way or another until my own comes to an end. And who the hell knows after that?  I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. 

Photo courtesy of Clayton Herrmann

As for my own personal path - it’s not uncommon for winter storms to leave obstacles across trails. It’s also not terribly out of the ordinary for hikers to encounter massive, uprooted trees where a trail once was, forcing them to create one or more user paths through or around the jumbled mess. These paths can be circuitous and they are never pretty, but they get you to the other side of the damage. And that’s where I’m at. Following in the steps of others at times, but also finding my own way when I see a route that better suits me. While it’s certainly a little rocky, exposed, and extremely unpleasant to look at as of late, I know I can proceed farther.