Date of hike: 2-13-10
Location: Golden Gate State Park, Golden, CO
Racoon Trail (loop) at Panorama Point
Distance: 2.5 mile loop
90 minute hike
Directions: From Boulder or Golden Take Hwy. 93 to CO 72 (West)
Turn left at Twin Spruce Road
Proceed past the entrance sign for Golden Gate State Park
Park in the Panorama Point parking lot
Look for the Racoon Trail signposts
The Raccoon Trail
The Raccoon Trail in Golden Gate State Park is an easy to moderate hike along varied terrain. You descend down into trees from the parking lot at Panorama Point, and enjoy distant views of the Divide through the gaps here and there. Once you reach the bottom of the hill, the aspens get fatter and you can look up too view the two big rock outcroppings above the trees to the east.
The trail winds through stands of aspens, ponderosa pine, some other evergreens, and eventually, large gray boulders on the west side. Today there were some patches of undisturbed semi-packed snow, crusty, icy patches and even some short distances of gravel, decent conditions for snowshoes or YakTrak. There’s an equal amount of ascending and descending as you make the loop.
On this day the cold front was moving in and the clouds were booking it — when you stood still and looked up it was almost disorienting to see them race so fast across the sky. Cold air and unformed clouds of snow clung to the Divide. The wind was temperamental, blowing in quick bursts here and there but never sustaining the kind of velocity that would have made the hike unbearably cold and harsh. When we arrived at Panorama Point at 10:15 a.m. ours was the only vehicle in the lot and we encountered no other hikers on the trail itself until we were almost back at the lot an hour and a half later.
I briefly stated my intention and crossed an imaginary threshold just a few feet out of the parking lot. I was in sacred space and time and everything from now on would be a waking dream. Thoughts, feelings and signs from nature would be my guide for the hike.
Cultivating Inner Knowing
The intention of this hike to was to cultivate inner knowing, intuition, or what some call inherent wisdom.
If you’d like to do this activity yourself, I recommend going to a trail that you’re somewhat unfamiliar with. You want to experience the feeling of uncertainty and Beginner’s Mind in this activity, so not knowing what to expect at each moment is helpful.
Before you start the hike, ask yourself a question that’s been pressing on your mind, something that you don’t know the answer to, but you have some idea of the possibilities. Perhaps there are financial difficulties that you’ve been worried about or sensing. Maybe you have a health problem that’s developing but you haven’t acknowledged it. Maybe your romantic relationship is troubled, and you sense something is wrong, but you aren’t sure what that problem is or what will unfold.
This is also a good activity to do when you’re feeling eco-anxiety—how will the future unfold with all the challenges we’re facing with resource depletion, economic instability and widespread pollution? It’s important that you’re prepared for what’s ahead, and cultivating inner wisdom and emotional resilience is as important as preparing physically (paying down debt, growing a garden, reskilling).
In our daily, busy lives we have so little time to contemplate these questions directly, or to use the wisdom we already have deep within us. We’re constantly distracted by conversations, work, drama, television, mainstream media gossip and scandal. There are projects, tasks, chores, shopping lists and bills to pay. We lack the space or mental energy to solve our problems intuitively, so we look outside for answers: friends, online articles, therapists, books. Or we don’t look for answers, we numb ourselves with distractions instead.
In order to practice the skill of intuitive wisdom, you have to get away from all those distractions and stay completely present and open to hearing what you really feel and know in your heart. You can do this on solo walks, hikes or through mindful meditation at home. By cultivating this inner knowing you acknowledge that you have all the resources inside yourself already to solve or simply understand just about any problem or hardship that confronts you.
This means that no matter what troubles you now, deep within you already know what to do. Sometimes the answers aren’t easy and there will be work ahead, but when you listen to that inner knowing, you will not second guess yourself or have regrets later. A person who is in touch with their inner wisdom never looks back with regret over what might have been, or what they should have done instead. They always know they did the best they could with what they knew at the time.
When you do this hike, it’s important to remain silent so that you can listen to the thoughts that pass underneath the narration going on in your mind. When you feel yourself becoming lost in daydreaming or thinking about unrelated matters back home, come back to your breath and look around to become present to the moment.
As you walk, as yourself: How do certain parts of the trail, certain vistas and changes in weather make you feel? What is your experience of the present moment? How does it relate to the answers you’re seeking?
Is nature trying to tell you something?
Pay attention to anything you observe, think or feel on the hike. Don’t try too hard to analyze everything in relationship to your question, but be curious about what unfolds. Are there strange coincidences? Is there irony somehow? Are there omens?
Symbolism and a Message
When I did this hike, I wanted to tap into what I already “knew” about the coming difficulties and challenges that were upon civilization: peak oil, economic instability and collapse, resource depletion and the resulting political battles to secure what’s left. What should I know about how to handle the challenges that will unfold in my life? What do I already know, on an intuitive level, about how I might deal with the problems to come in my own life? Did I have an idea of what would happen in the next 10-20 years?
The entire hike turned out to be full of symbolism regarding uncertainty and strength.
When we started out, we walked around the viewing decks by the parking lot but couldn’t find where the trail began. The most recent dusting of snow had covered up tracks and bootprints from the past week and the trail markers weren’t immediately apparent. When we did find them, we had to go by intuition anyway because there were no prints in the snow. Immediately, there was irony in our intention to cultivate “inner knowing” because we had to rely on it from the start in order to find out way through the trees. Without a visible trail or existing tracks to follow, I relied on subtle clues, such as breaks in the trees, a slightly flatter terrain, some barely discernible edge sticking up, indicating where small logs may have framed the gravel trail.
Also, just five minutes into our hike we came across a sign saying the trail was closed a half mile up ahead. I felt a little disappointed, but didn’t hesitate about continuing the hike. I felt that we would deal with the situation as we came across it, but if worse came to worse, we could always turn around and try a different trail. Seeing the warning, I proceeded with caution but didn’t let it automatically discourage me. I had a Plan B just in case, but went ahead with Plan A and let the uncertainty of the situation remain. This, too, played into the symbolism of what it would mean to prepare for the coming collapse.
Spiritual teacher and author Marshall Summers writes that part of the reason why people fail to prepare adequately (emotionally and physically) for the coming “Great Waves” of change is because they’re uncomfortable or afraid of uncertainty. These are the people who insist that technology or government will solve our problems or worse, that there really aren’t any problems and all this talk of collapse is just a bunch of “doomsayers” exaggerating a few problems.
Not knowing the trail very well or why it was closed did add a level of uncertainty to the hike. As the sign promised, we did see the trail barricaded a half mile up, but that wasn’t the full story. The Raccoon Trail intersected with the Elk Trail at the half mile juncture, and the Elk Trail was the one that was closed for forest fuel mitigation operations. The Raccoon Trail continued on, wider and well-trampled (and easier to follow) at that point. That was a good lesson in uncertainty, expectations and decision-making.
The trees on this trail displayed evidence of a life battered by harsh weather and brutal winds. Aspens grew in curved zig zag shapes, like fingers and limbs mangled by a crushing device and healed back up. Some pine trees had bulges and buckled trunks, one tree in particular grew a Y shaped trunk because of some trauma that had been inflicted upon it in the distant past. Trees that had died and toppled over were often leaning against living trees and would squeak and creak each time the wind jostled the tree’s branches. It was like listening to a rusty hinge from some phantom door in the middle of the woods.
This forest was a display of resilience and persistence. And yet, as I passed a stand of young aspen I felt suddenly compelled to grasp the smooth, relatively straight trunk of a younger, ten foot tall tree.
I said, “Stay strong.” I shook the trunk a little, watching the branches rattle above me.
Who was really speaking and who was listening? I didn’t know why I had grasped that tree or why I had given it that advice. Perhaps the tree had spoken to me instead of the other way around. Surely, it didn’t need any advice on how to grow in this place. It had its community around it and it knew what it had to do.
That moment felt significant, somehow. As if it had come from outside of myself, as if I had tapped into a greater wisdom—a kind of wisdom we all have access to.
Upon your return to the parking lot, reflect on what you observed and felt on the hike.
How did the trail or hike itself relate to the question you brought with you? Was there any significance to what happened or what you experienced?
Were there any moments when you had a thought or feeling that seemed to come from outside yourself? You might have had a thought come up and wondered, “Whoa, where did that come from?” When this happens, it is usually devoid of strong emotion—it doesn’t stem from fear or worry or anticipation. It may inspire emotion once you deliberate what the thought means, but the thought itself feels neutral. Did you experience anything like this?
Did anything you see on the hike (the way the trees were growing, the way the weather changed, animals or birds) lend any symbolic significance to your question?