Walk A Mile In My Shoes

A great side trip Mrs. Woody and I took during our second week of vacation was to Fundy National Park in New Brunswick. Discovering a great place to get back to nature, we packed the cigarettes and beer in the Woodmobile and headed off. Having heard from a friend about the great hiking trails and waterfalls where you can actually swim, Mrs. Woody suggested we try a trail with an intermediate degree of difficulty. Having a fitness membership these days, I agreed to it. We chose a 2.5 km trail to Laverty Falls and proceeded on our hike through what I could only describe as "Ferngully meets Frodo Baggins". The trail is rife with aged oversized tree roots and pockets of rich dark muck; two prime elements one must be constantly aware of while hiking in sensible yet affordable footwear. (We had sneakers.) On a downhill trail, the tree roots, at times, seemed to provide the effect of a guiding staircase to a lower level. On an uphill trail they seemed to act like the class clown that sticks his leg out on your way past his school desk. We arrived at Laverty Falls in 36 minutes to find the pool at the bottom of the falls and stepping stones crossing the creek that brought us to a rock landing. There, Mrs. Woody took her new Nikes off and tested the water. Too cold to swim, was her conclusion. Fine. I headed back across the creek, negotiating the stepping stones with pinpoint accuracy. Mrs. Woody had considerable difficulty, faltering half way. Now don't get me wrong: I love my wife and she's very intelligent, creative, sharp as a tack, cerebral as a hemorrhage. But her coordination can be sketchy at times and this was one of them. It was clear she was only thinking a step at a time because she hesitated and that's where she lost the battle. Always commit to your moves. So there she was, bent over with her arms stretched out like an Air France landing in Toronto during a thunderstorm, swaying left then right and all I could to was watch in horror as her left foot slid off into the water, giving her a soaker for the walk back. Had she been on a surfboard she wouldn't have looked at all ridiculous. For the record, the walk back uphill took only 33 minutes. We took two minutes to catch our breaths then I lit a cigarette, cracked open a couple of beers and we promptly toasted the great outdoors.