Don’t write the entire time.
The inn sits back and up from route 12 situated at the bottom of an old logging road with the owner’s residence directly across the gravel driveway.
I cracked open the door as I turned in my seat, preparing my stiff legs for movement when the fresh forest air crawled slowly up my nose and settled on my skin. The kind of fresh smell only possible when you combine new growth with decaying matter.
Jeremy helped unload my large suitcase and cooler with 5 days worth of meals before we shared a lingering hug and kiss and he headed home. Jim, the owner, didn’t think Jeremy would make it the next 5 days without me. All I could do was chuckle. We would be just fine.
I began to unpack my nourishment for the week surprised by how everything fit so tetris-like in the small dorm-sized refrigerator. I laid a few things out in the bathroom and emptied my books and notebooks on the bed, they would be my nighttime companions over the next five days.
It makes sense that you should write at a writers retreat, I’m just saying don’t have your seat glued to a seat every waking second. I spent time working on regular writing, code writing (for my site), recipe writing, and dreaming about new ways I would like to write…narrative, poetry, and memoir to name a few. Why not – right?
What about when I wasn’t writing??
Taking in the SCENERY!
Oh hiking, how I love thee! While crawling up among the pines I tried to figure out when my love of hiking started. I know I never hiked as a child so my love must have started in my early 20s. Propelling yourself up the side of a ridge or a mountain is the perfect way to get your blood flowing again. The blood just banging and pounding away between your ears as you seek higher and higher elevations.
On this particular trail I averaged about 30 minutes climbing to the top of the ridge, taking time for selfies, self-reflection, and appreciation for what was in front of me.
While out I saw a deer, a lot of scat, turkeys, a large predatory bird, and even heard some hunting! That was a first for me. I kept thinking “please see my pink hat” even though the echoes seemed farther off.
Oh and there is a river too 🙂
The Clearwater that is and right across the street, so I made a point to walk down at least one of the mornings. The mist had mostly lifted only clinging to a few spots. Gorgeous.