Sunday, March 5, 2023

While it Lasts

"Why did you want to come here?" Heidi asked as we started up the hill on the trail around Accotink Lake.

"One of my students wrote about it for the writing challenge," I explained, "and I remembered it's been a while since we've been here."

The time away from this regional park about 20 minutes from our home had been underlined when we arrived and parked only to find that the four mile circuit hike around the lake was out of the question since the trail over the dam was closed for renovation. The old, oft-flooded path was being replaced by a soaring concrete bridge.

"I don't know how I feel about that thing," I grumbled as we headed off in the opposite direction. Our revised plan was to walk 2 miles around and then turn back for an in and out. 

As we crossed the little sand beach and passed the shuttered boat rental and carousel toward the more woodsy section of the trail, I thought back to the first time I had ever been there. The year was 1975, and my older cousin's husband had brought my brother and sister and I as children to this park to play mini-golf and ride the merry-go-round. He told us that we could go fishing and canoeing on our next visit, but we were from out of town then, and as an adult I now understand how such promises fall by the wayside of busy lives.

It was 30 years before I would return to explore the park again, and since that time it's been a go-to dog walking destination two or three times a year. But, as so many of my friends have noted, COVID has played a lot of tricks on time, and I honestly can't remember the last time we walked beneath the sky-high railroad trestle to begin the familiar route around the lake.

We were surprised by a few other "improvements" along the trail. Along with a few more entrances from the growing neighborhoods bordering the park, much more of the trail had been paved, and we had to step aside more than a dozen times to allow bikes to pass us. Even so, the harsh calls of the gulls and geese, the hollow knocking of woodpeckers at the top of trees, the chirping of the earliest peepers in the warmer waters near the shore, and the sun sinking low over the water as we returned to our car, made for an agreeable afternoon.

Back at home, I was checking the weather on the Washington Post website when my eyes widened and my heart sank to see a link to an article published today: Officials ready to let urban runoff swallow a cherished Virginia lake. Looks like we better enjoy it while we can.

3 comments:

  1. What an ending! I love how you drew us readers in and helped us feel the specialness of the place. That made your ending feel all the more crushing. Even though I've never been there, I feel sad because of the connection I made through you!

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  2. Oh, that was a sad discovery. I loved the description of the sounds and sights you enjoyed in spite of the changes occurring.

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  3. Love the poignancy of your reference to adult "promises that fall by the wayside". Such a true observation.

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