Overlooking Harpers Ferry

Of all of the sights I have seen, and of all of the trails I have hiked, the overlook at Maryland Heights, West Virginia is my favorite by far. The trek to reach the most perfect point on the planet is not an easy one. The trail weaves through the forest, bordered by streams and natural rock walls. At first, the three mile journey doesn't seem so bad. One who hasn't conquered it before would think, "Oh, a nice walk through the woods!" That is, until they are faced with the first of several inclines. The hiking trail is riddled with them, in variously grades of severity.

My first hike here left me huffing, and puffing, my chest burning from the cold November air. My thighs and shins asked painfully, "What did we do to deserve THAT?" The straps from the backpack I had elected to bring, digging trenches in my shoulders, and my stomach threatening to explode if I dared move another inch.

At that point, I realized, we had reached the top. We were here. A brief climb down a rocky hill revealed the view of Harpers Ferry from a perch 1,448 feet above the town.

The cold wind flushed some fallen leaves from hiding places under rocks and pried their wee fingers from the trees they were clinging to. The leaves gave a cry for help, but all that was heard was the raspy rustle across the rocks before the wind pulled them over the edge. Strange, that leaves should object to being pulled over the edge of the beautiful cliff. The wind was only teaching them how to fly. The leaves seemed to enjoy it, once they were in the air. Gleefully twirling and floating before a graceful, and safe, landing on the ground so far below.

Autumn had come to visit the village of Harpers Ferry weaving its spell of colors on the trees speckling the hillside. Most of the trees were just succumbing to the fall magic, beginning to show the hidden fire-reds and golden-yellows. The townspeople continued on, business as usual, as I spied from above.

The Potomac River drifted along lazily below me, separating my bank and the one of Harpers Ferry. The Shenandoah crept along the opposite side of the village, before the two rivers met up and continued their journey to the Northeast, together.

Light road noise from the cars zooming over the bridges, taking little or no note of the spectacular view they were missing, were wafting through the air. A few people dotted the water in various places in their canoes, enjoying the sunny, but cool weather. A couple walked over the bridge, their black Labrador leading the way, barking at another dog, this one appeared to be a Boarder Collie, approaching them from the opposite side.

Another cool blast of wind tugged at my sweatshirt and pulled at my hair, waking me from my trance. The sight beneath me was entrancing and serene. The sun had slid through the sky and plunked down a few inches above the horizon.

Life had found me, once again. The abrupt change in temperature and numbness in my limbs were blunt reminders of how time continuously marches on, and now, so must I.