So, this whole ‘secret lakes’ thing. I gotta tell ya, it’s a bit of a chase, you know? You hear folks talkin’ ’bout these hidden spots, untouched, magical. And a part of you just perks up, thinkin’, “Yeah, I want some of that.” That’s pretty much how it started for me.
The Spark and the Sketchy Info
I’d been cooped up for a while, staring at the same four walls, and the idea of finding something hidden, something secret, really got its hooks in me. There wasn’t a proper map, mind you. Just bits and pieces I’d picked up – an old timer mentioned something about “beyond the crooked pine,” another said “follow the dry creek bed.” Real precise stuff, let me tell you. So, I pieced together what I could, drew a sort of treasure map on a napkin. Looked more like a kid’s scribble, but it was my scribble.
Gearing Up (Or So I Thought)
Next, I got my gear ready. Threw some water bottles in a backpack, a couple of apples, some nuts. Figured that’d do. Grabbed my old hiking boots, the ones that always give me a blister on the left heel but I wear ’em anyway. Sentiment, I guess. I felt like a real explorer, even if my expedition was probably just gonna end up a few miles from my backdoor. I told myself, “This is it, adventure time!” I was raring to go.
The Actual Journey: Sweat and Swears
Okay, setting off was easy. The sun was shining, birds were chirping. The first hour? A breeze. Then I hit the part where the “dry creek bed” was supposed to be. It wasn’t dry. Not even close. More like a muddy, slippery mess. My boots were not amused. Neither was I.
I pushed on. Got tangled in thorny bushes more times than I can count. My arms looked like I’d been wrestling a cat. A very angry cat. At one point, I was pretty sure I was just walking in circles. The “crooked pine” seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. I definitely muttered a few choice words under my breath. Or maybe not so under my breath.
- My water supply dwindled faster than I thought.
- One apple got bruised to bits at the bottom of my bag.
- I slipped in the mud. Only once, thankfully, but it was a good one.
There was a moment, I’ll admit, where I just sat on a log, covered in mud and scratches, thinking, “What on earth am I doing?” I was tired, frustrated, and the secret lake felt more like a fairy tale.
Stumbling Upon… Something
But then, after I’d almost given up, after I’d eaten my bruised apple and felt a tiny bit better, I pushed through a particularly dense patch of trees. And there it was. Not some vast, shimmering blue expanse like you see in pictures. Nope. It was smaller. More intimate. The water was dark, still. Trees crowded right up to the edge, their reflections staring back from the surface. It wasn’t grand, but it was utterly, completely quiet.
There were no signs, no trails leading to it. Just me, the quiet water, and the buzz of a few insects. I just stood there for a bit, then found a flat rock and sat down. It felt… earned. Like I’d really found something that not many people had bothered to look for, or stick with looking for.
What I Figured Out About “Secrets”
So, yeah, I found a “secret lake.” Maybe not the one from the legends, but it was secret to me. And what I realized sitting there, all muddy and tired, was that the lake itself was only part of it. The real deal was the getting there. The pushing through, the getting lost, the not giving up when it was a pain in the backside. That’s where the good stuff was.
These “secret” places, I reckon they’re more about what they make you do, what you go through to find ’em. It’s about the effort, the quiet struggle, and then that little moment of, “Ah, there you are.” That’s the practice, the experience. The lake is just the excuse to go looking. And honestly, I’m already thinking about where I might look next. But this time, I’m packing more water. And maybe a machete. Kidding. Mostly.
