The Power of Water

After a relatively brief yet painfully long hiatus, I was able to get back to hiking and exploring the DMV area. The weather was ideal for a challenging hike, mostly cloudy and about 70 degrees, but the hike I chose wasn’t going to be all that challenging. My boyfriend finally agreed to come with me, after what felt like months of asking every weekend since I sold my car. I wanted him to come with me for quality time together but I mostly needed a ride. With such moderate weather on my side, I chose a hike that was less than two miles and climbed less than 150 feet in elevation to be sure I didn't sour the experience for him. We drove 40 minutes to Prince William National Forest and took the scenic drive around the park to find the nearest lot to the trail and get a lay of the land.

My first impression was “wow that’s a lot of trees,” tall, old trees. I’m not sure of all the species but the fallen nuts and abundance of squirrels hint that some of them might be walnut and oak. Spanning over 15,000 acres, Prince William National Forest certainly has a lot of trees, but it also has numerous trails, campgrounds, a fishing pond, the majority of Quantico Creek, and an incredibly interesting history I am still learning about. Going down “Scenic Drive,” I felt like we discovered a hidden gem in Northern Virginia. After a year of living in Alexandria, I’m only starting to uncover the beauty of this part of the country. The locals may have enjoyed these natural spaces for decades but to me, it is all new and precious.

When we reached the parking lot at the head of the trail there was exactly one spot left, that felt like a sign that we were meant to be there exactly when we arrived. I had new companions with me and I was excited about the new experience but a little apprehensive. Hiking with only my dog, a few blank pages, and a pen had been very good to me for many years, and as they say “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.” This cosmic welcome, along with the ideal weather conditions reassured me that my new hiking companion journal, and Jesse's company, would not hinder my search for relaxation and reflection. There are many ways to meditate, my favorite has always been a quiet walk in the woods, I was and continue to be willing to share this method of meditation with anyone who is open to it.

We started down the path talking too much, the same conversations we had at home a thousand times. That wasn’t what I was hoping for, I was looking forward to serene silence like I had found on so many solo hikes, but in my discontent, I remembered that nature bathing follows a pattern. The first step of course is getting there, usually a little rushed and the most stressful part of the experience. Then you start walking, still getting there in a way, but each step takes you farther from the reality you came from and closer to what’s actually “real.” After the first fork in the path, I could feel that “reality” was just out of sight. The conversation was dying down and appreciation was setting in, at least for me. Jesse was still scouting out trees to make tables, looking for material in my divine natural realm. He’s not as experienced in the art of gratitude as I am, he wasn’t as far from the reality we were leaving. I responded to him by lecturing that “It might make a good table, but it's already a perfectly good tree.” We reflected on that thought for a moment, contemplating in silence and enjoying the tree for what it is, and then we made our way to the cascades of Quantico Creek.

We came to this trail expecting a waterfall at the end of it, which we found, but it wasn’t Quantico Falls. I promised him a grande rush of water, I expected to see crashing falls and rising mist but that is not the sight we faced after hiking down the well-worn path. The trail stopped at a small gurgle of water a bit farther down the creek. Nature had reclaimed the path to our anticipated destination, but who could blame her for wanting something for herself in this vast stretch of land? Admittedly Jesse and I were a bit disappointed, but I felt no hard feelings for Prince William National Forest, after all, it is only natural for undergrowth to become over-growth.

It felt ironic given the lilliputian size of this waterfall, but the end of the trail was marked with an infographic labeled “The Power of Water.” At first glance this water didn’t seem all that powerful, it splashed over the smooth rocks that classified this bend in the meandering stream as a fall. A goldfish cracker dropped by another hiker swam in the gentle pool below, making the cascade seem smaller, infantile even. The water couldn’t have been more than two feet deep at any point in Quantico Creek at the time of our visit, making the waterway seem even more immature. Especially considering we visited in the Spring when water levels are generally high.

After a few minutes of sitting in silent observation, enjoying an orange and some water before heading back up the trail, it became clear why this spot served as the demonstration of “the power of water”. Staring into the shallow stream, watching a few actual fish inspect the bottoms of our hiking boots, I noticed the rounded-out pools in the rock created by years of gentle water sliding over them. Although invisible to us, this water had been and continues to make just enough friction to wear down the rocks underneath it. Jesse pointed out how in some places the rocks in the water looked like trees, after staring a little longer I began to imagine they were trees that had been mummified by an eternity just under the surface. I’m sure if I was a tree trapped inside these pools, unable to move on or float above it, I would think that water made a very powerful tomb. The banks were so worn that the earth around the creek sloped into it, if you looked close enough you could imagine them as beaches wading into the Ocean. From many perspectives, this little fall could seem quite massive and very powerful.

I thought about how powerful the water really was for a good long while, scribbling in my journal when ideas or words presented themself to me in some semblance of logic. On hikes where I really think, I find I often think so hard I get lost, this time Jesse and I thought together and navigated this perplexing idea of powerful yet mostly calm water. I was surprised to experience a deeply moving epiphany with a hiking partner that could speak, I had hoped to find this experience but didn’t expect it. High expectations often leave one feeling disappointed so I try to hope for the best and expect reality to be less than the best. In this instance, I hoped for unremarkable hiking and a full page in my guided journal, I started back up the path with my prompted page full and a previously blank page riddled with observations from both Jesse and myself. I can’t say he will accompany me on every hike, neither he nor I would find that idea appealing and my dog would certainly disapprove, but he now has an open invitation to join me on occasion.

We reached the car just as it started to rain, another universal acknowledgment that we arrived and left at the exact moments we were supposed to. The cosmic messages I felt during this hike were so clear I’m glad there was a witness to keep me from getting beamed up. I really enjoyed sharing these experiences with Jesse, and the powers at be seemed to be agreeing that he and I make great hiking partners. Water has long been associated with introspection, philosophy, wisdom, and endurance, I believe the power of the water we encountered far surpassed changing the landscape. Modeling our environment is a feat that requires strength and consistency, but inspiring thought, reflection, and tightening the bond between people take that and more. The Quantico Cascades, as I’ve been calling them, have more power than I can describe to you. I’m so grateful for the journey this trail took me on and the company that walked it with me.