Mary Undoer of Knots

 My hike was vigorous and rewarding to the point of making me remember entire aspects of my being that I had suppressed. Awakening neglected aspects of physical movement was like turning on the lights in darkened wings of a building that had been shuttered for years. 

As such I was on quite a high as I trudged back up hill to the hotel, past the clumps of parked cars of day visitors and then finally into Summerhaven. It was noon. I'd been gone three hours and had improvised approximately five miles.

"I need to do this again on a regular basis," was the thought that occurred to me. I don't think I'd had as good a hike since our last trip to Estes Park in 2022, when I did my usual roaming in Rocky Mountain National Park. 

My return left me plenty of time to relax and get cleaned and freshened up for the Divine Liturgy at four.  Jessica had been watching Wimbledon during my entire absence, as she is big fan of tennis. I spent the afternoon on the balcony, where it feels like a treehouse, reading about Samuel Johnson's childhood and his formative single year at Oxford. He was a very angry youth, I learned, resentful most of all because of his poverty. 

At a quarter to four, I left and went down the outdoor stairs and followed the path to the ground level at the street, then walked down about a hundred yards on the new sidewalk there to Upper Goat Hill Road where one sees the sign for the shrine, which they put up last year. From there I trudged up panting a bit until I reached the place where it levels off. I saw the cars parked on the side of the street where usually there are none. I had told Father Martin about having come to this spot outside the metal gate to pray the rosary, looking out over the houses and green hills on the opposite ridge. From that spot, one looks down into the compound, which consists on the left of the small chapel which is an octagonal structure (a very Byzantine design), a wooden beehive like the forest churches of Russia and Scandinavia. Atop it was an Orthodox cross. with the diagonal beam. Like all residences on the hill, it was on cement pylons to cope with the stope. The beehive structure was rimmed by a wooden walkway, and it was connected to the rest of the compound by a pair of narrow wooden footbridges.

Across the footbridge in the main part of the compound was what looked to be a small two-story residence in the same style. To the right, and further up the slope, looked to be some kind of large picnic shelter or ourdoor ceremonial structure. This was as close as I had seen it in years past. 

Now for the first time, the gate was unlocked and open.