HOOK

32 HOOK cycle through a queue of topics to ponder and process. 'This is great preparation for my backpacking trip in the Fall.' 'When should I move back to New York?' 'How will I get on without Yaya?' Memories hover around me underneath the canopy, and the healing journey I'm on quickly aligns with my physical journey for the day. I arrive at one of the notable viewpoints of the trail at Avalanche Lake, an alpine body of water with cliffs thousands of feet high on ei- ther side. The water shimmers underneath the wind, and the boulders I scramble over along the shore remind me of the challenging but growth enhancing moments life gives us. This place feels sacred, cathedral-like, and I know whatever thoughts or feelings that cross my mind are safe here. Another study from Japan in 2019 credits "place attachment," or a sense of attachment to a place in nature, with higher levels of well- being associated with the outdoors. Further research by UC Davis in 2023 backs "place attachment" tying in with an improved mental and emotional state; my own evi- dence lies in my return to these mountains over and over again to seek solace and clarity. I cover a steep incline as I near my target for the day, a bare-rock summit over 4,000 feet above sea level. I sit atop this new vantage point, recognizing places where I've camped or hiked, appreciating the sense to better understand the valley below. I play the conversa- tion in my head that I'd have with my Yaya if we were to have another moment together at her dining room table. She would tell me about how wild asparagus crept up from the soil of her forested backyard. I'd show her photos of my view, to which she'd gasp in admiration and recollect how the air felt different in the North Country. I'd describe the small blueberries that pop up along the trails I hike, and she'd admit to living vicariously through my uplift- ing hike, the only motivation I need to go on another. Heading home, I pass through familiar territory, and one hamlet that I've heard of over and over again at that dining room table. The sign for Star Lake passes just in time for me to see it, and I slow down to soak in the school where she taught and the streets she may have driven down. I'll be hiking on without my Yaya, but I know everywhere to find her. I'll see her in the trails leading to the summits, the fire look- outs watching over the forests, and the alpine lakes that are cooling to the touch. The healing power of the woods is a beautiful thing, and not hard to find if in need of it.

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