I had been working on my independent self for so long that I wasn’t sure I remembered how to share this evolving person with anyone else again. But we fell for each other rather quickly. Then he ended things rather abruptly. Here was yet another rejection searing a painful brand on my heart.

     I knew the upcoming weekend would fill Charleston with a soulful blend of bluegrass and country music. It was a concert he and I had shared early on in our brief relationship and one that held fond memories for me of a time when he seemed happy to have me in his life. I had patiently waited for months…hoping he’d call to ask me to join him again—for old time's sake. But the phone call never came, and I silently knew it never would.

     So I signed up for a weekend backpacking trip and contacted a fellow adventurer to carpool to the mountains of North Carolina. We had gotten a later start than I had originally planned due to his work schedule, but I enjoyed his company and felt comfort in him being with me if we had to hike to our campsite in the dark. After several traffic delays and a GPS that was determined to test our patience by persistently guiding us away from our destination, we arrived in time to check in with the Park Ranger and get a map of South Mountains State Park.

     We began to discuss the weight of our backpacks as we changed into our hiking boots. Although we had several trips marked off our list, we just couldn’t seem to get the weight down to a comfortable number. We used the tailgate of his pickup truck to hoist them onto our backs and headed up the trail as the sun momentarily rested at the top of the tree line.

     It wasn’t a long hike, but it was definitely an uphill climb. The beginning ran along a wide stream, and we listened to the sound of the water as it found a way around and over the multitude of rocks that filled its bed. We rounded a curve and were quiet as we saved our strength for the anticipated elevation and reveled in the peacefulness of this expansive park.

     Then we heard voices. Familiar voices. Two people in our group had come to find us since the sun was making more headway than we were. And so another adventure began as we all hugged and the others led us up the hill to our campsite.

     We soon took a shortcut through the woods and entered an open meadow with the same stream running along one side. I set up my tent close to the water so its fast and steady movement would hopefully lull me to sleep. My friend from the previous ‘car camping’ weekend was there and had hung his hammock between the trees just to the left of my tent. Everyone else was scattered but close by. And a large Boy Scout troop had set up their camp at the other end of the meadow.

     It was primitive camping and miles away from any other park activity. But I felt so safe…protected by people who cared about me and those I didn’t even know. There was an unspoken camaraderie among us, and it was comforting after another stretch of solitude in my personal life.

     As I climbed into my tent, I turned to see the Boy Scouts forming a circle and holding hands around their campfire. I fell asleep to their distant songs, listening to that melodious sound only young voices can produce.

     After a very cold but uneventful night, we woke to a gorgeous sunny morning and packed our day bags for a long hike. The elevations were more than any of us were used to, so we laughed and teased each other, agreeing that we were completely out of shape! But the vistas were more beautiful with each trail, so we kept climbing. We stopped for lunch and sat on a large cluster of overhanging rocks at the edge of the mountain, letting our tired bodies absorb the sun so it could replenish and push us to our next destination. Finally, after the most intense climb of the day, we stood on a wooden bridge that traversed the top of a stunning 80’ waterfall. As exhausted as we were, it was a proud moment knowing we had reached our ‘lofty’ goal.

     Back at our campsite, we pulled off our hiking boots and sweaty socks and waded in the ice-cold stream to the large flat rocks in its center. It was there that we again relaxed and warmed our bodies in preparation for another cold night ahead. What we didn’t prepare for was the invasion of a rather large raccoon that seemed to know exactly which backpack held the tastiest meal or the tiny mouse that almost managed to chew its way inside a tent. We had all learned a valuable lesson about complacency as we repaired the tent and found an alternative replacement for the stolen breakfast.

     On the hike back to our cars, it occurred to me that I hadn’t been lonely all weekend. Even when I zipped up my tent and lay there alone in the dark, I felt the air envelop me like a blanket—still filled with the breath of those who had wished me goodnight and the boys that sang with such angelic voices. The air lingered as if I needed it to say more—but I knew that wasn’t necessary. This feeling of inner warmth would always be there, even through the coldest and loneliest nights. And I was secure in knowing these friendships and the goodness that was surrounding me would never end abruptly. Actually, I somehow knew it would never end at all.