A few days ago, it was 105° outside. I was determined to take my daily walk, so I laced up my shoes, grabbed my dog, Libby, and drove to a trail just across the river from our house.
I hadn’t been there in a while, but from what I remembered, the first half meandered along a cliff overlooking the water and led down to a beach of tiny rocks. The second half led through a tall forest canopy and ended back at the trailhead parking spot. It was only a mile and a half long and seemed like a perfect walk for a summer day.
When we got there, Libby was not inclined to get out of our van because the parking area was a sweltering open field. I encouraged her with treats and promises of adventures to come, so she grudgingly hopped out.
The first few hundred yards of the hike were a lot sunnier than I remembered, and once we got into a little bit of shade, the trail also became much steeper than I remembered.
Libby stopped every few feet as if to say, “Seriously? We’re doing this now?”
By the time we got to the cliff, she was panting, and I was drenched. My sunglasses slid repeatedly down my wet nose, and elbow sweat dripped down my forearm into my hand and onto Libby’s leash. Hot perspiration puddled in my clothes and underwear.
Needless to say, it was not the relaxing summer hike I envisioned. I considered turning back, but since we were already halfway, we trudged on. I cheered up a little when we reached the path that led to the river.
It was still scorching hot, but I found a rock to sit on, and the sound of the gurgling river was refreshing. I dangled my toes in the cool water as Libby waded out to survey the area.
Suddenly, I saw a flash of movement on a nearby rock, and a river otter skittered by. Another otter quickly joined him, and they played and splashed together like two toddlers. Libby and I were both spellbound as we watched their delightful antics.
When the otters finally jumped into the water and swam away, Libby and I started back on our walk. The return loop was just as shady as I remembered; a cool breeze filtered through the leaves, and I was invigorated by the lovely otter show we’d experienced.
I’m still thinking about those cute, playful creatures today. Even though I walk on my side of the river almost daily, I’ve never seen otters. I’m grateful to have spotted them: glad I persevered and didn’t turn around early; thankful I wasn’t so distracted by my distress that I missed them.
Perseverance and presence aren’t always easy when we’re suffering. The experience was a good reminder that sometimes we have to go through bad stuff to get to the good stuff…and that even in the middle of the bad stuff, we can find something to be grateful for.
So when it’s hard and uphill, don’t give up – you just might see an otter.