Last evening over dinner, a friend made an astute observation. While I was enthusiastically describing some of the sights and smells that I was looking forward to experiencing again while on the trail--things such as the mountain laurel in bloom, the smell of the wet leaves and earth, or perhaps even the taste of wild berries--she said, "It sounds like being in the mountains feeds your soul the way being at the beach feeds mine." I believe my friend has hit upon a truth that I can't deny. I don't know that there is anywhere that I feel as great a peace in my soul then as when I am in the mountains.
In general, most everyone has an infinity in their nature for either the mountain or the sea. I'm sure there's even been psychological studies done on why and what personality types tend to lean to each environment. I have no real desire to delve into those topics right now. All I know about myself and this desire is that my youth was filled with wonderful memories that revolve around my time spent in the Appalachian mountains and the valley fields and small towns lying at their feet . The sights, sounds and smells have somehow become a part of me--a part of my heart and soul--and I can hardly wait until I can spend time there again.