Author / Boyd Lawton

Posts by Boyd Lawton

Lifelong resident of the beautiful state of Maryland. Enthusiastic participant of everything outdoors and a passionate writer who strives to get everyone up and outside! From the mountain peaks to the sandy beaches and everywhere in between I’ll be there to experience that feeling and write about it. C’mon out! Member of American Writers & Artists, Inc. (AWAI)
by Boyd Lawton

SUMMER STROLL

Summer is not my favorite season to hike but when my busy teenage daughter asks to go for a stroll outside, I’m all in! Our kids grow up way too fast not to spend as much time as we can with them. I suggested a waterfront park not far from home and within a half hour, we were up and out into the humid, salty breeze. Scanning the parking lot I noticed that ours was the only vehicle in the parking lot this Sunday morning. Even our dog seemed more excited to be out of the AC and into an environment where all his senses were on high alert. We chose a 4-mile loop trail that offered woods, open meadows, marshland, and riverfront. Skies were overcast with a nice breeze keeping most bugs and the summer heat from bothering us.

The first part of a journey lead us on a path through the woods. I ran blocker for my daughter through all the unseen spider webs stretched across the trail. Our moods seemed to elevate to match our goofy dog, Charlie. Our 65 pound Pit Bull, Boxer and Sheperd mutt zigzagged across the trail at the end of his 20-foot leash. He was more than happy to flush out plenty of critters for us to enjoy and I no longer regretted bringing him with us. With his tail a whipping blur,  he burrowed through the lush green undergrowth. Several frogs, chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits scurried ahead of his marauding paws.  My daughter smiled and giggled as she watched him terrorize each little creature. She had a knack for yanking his leash in time to keep him from snacking on our entertainment.  At times all we could see at the end of the leash was the white tip of his tail whipping around. During a break in that action, two deer jumped up from a tangle of honeysuckle 15 yards or so away. Our heads snapped around watching their reddish-brown coats and white flags, bounce through the woods. Seeing deer was always a special treat. I noticed a mosquito or two buzzing around as the trail turned towards the marsh. We stopped to admire the view on a small bridge over a secluded cove. Turtles scattered and dove from logs below us. Above us, an Osprey scanned the shallow water for an easy meal. As we looked up he dipped his wing and, in a flash, plunged down to hit the water behind a wall of cattails. He returned to the sky less a second or two later with a small catfish in its talons. We looked at each other and managed an amazed,“Whoa”. We leaned on the railing and watched the Osprey glide to his nest. A gust of wind brought my gaze back to the marsh. The breeze, filtering through the grass and cattails, created a soothing natural tune. These sights and sounds reinforced our decision to venture out of the house this morning.

Crossing the bridge to the riverside section of the trail,  the salty, earthy breeze caused me to inhale a little deeper in appreciation.  I thought of the poor souls trapped in their houses and cars and then basked in gratitude and appreciation for this precious time. We stopped one last time to give Charlie a drink and enjoy one of the scenic views out to the river. Several sailboats worked the breeze while a speedboat pulled two young brave souls on a tube. They laughed and squealed as the choppy river tried to bump them loose. We watched until one of them went head over heels into the water. Isabella and I sat there and talked for a while. No TV, no cell phones, no sirens, no horns honking. Even without those type of distractions, all my senses seemed to be acute and buzzing. “This is what it’s all about,” I said to no one in particular. Isabella nodded in agreement as her head swiveled around taking it all in. We chatted a few minutes more then stood up to leave. At that same instant, another deer, enjoying our conversation from somewhere close by, decided it also had somewhere else to be. She waved bye, bye to us with her signature white tail.

As we rounded the last bend in the trail a final surprise tried to creep his way across the trail. He retreated into his shell when Charlie greeted him with one of his piercing barks. Isabella tossed me the leash and ran up to play with Mr. Turtle. I have never seen a smile so big on her face. Never see that while she was watching TV or a video on her phone. She picked the turtle up and showed him to me in her outstretched hand. Of course, next was “can we keep him?” I explained how much happier the turtle would be staying right here and without too much debate, she agreed.  We watched the turtle for a few more minutes then headed for the truck. As we piled into the steamy box waiting for the AC to take over, we promised to do this more often. I knew it might be a while before the planets and our schedules would align to allow that. When it did happen I would be just as grateful. The memories we had made from taking this simple hike will last a lifetime.

by Boyd Lawton

SOLO ON THE CHOPTANK

Finally! After watching several perfect days in April slip past,  I was about to embark on my first trip of the year in the Kayak. Arriving at a spot that has been screaming my name for as long as I can remember I was about to enter my retreat; my church. Dad said, “Drop it in down the end of the street there and its about three miles or so up to Greensboro”. Seemed like this trip up one of Maryland’s many scenic rivers would be more on the “or so” side but I didn’t mind. I had a rare afternoon all to myself.

Scooting off into the Choptank from the old concrete ramp and dilapidated bulkhead, I entered a whole new world with just one pull of the paddle. The tide was flowing upstream towards my destination of Greensboro so I stroked and drifted with the tide hoping to catch a slack or outgoing tide during my return. The choir started barely 50 yards from the ramp. Gliding along the outer edge of a patchwork carpet of lily pads,  the first Great Blue Heron of the day scolded me with a guttural squawk as he glided effortlessly just a few feet off the surface, upstream and around a bend. I noticed a little ache in my cheeks from smiling as I was also surprised at the clarity of the water in this brackish environment. I could see the stems of the pads stretching towards the bottom 2-3 feet down. As I rounded the first bend an Osprey began to protest from its driftwood nest atop an old channel marker. A sign which read “Children Swimming” hung on the marker as well. Such an appropriate nesting spot. Strangely, on this weekend before the first big holiday of the summer season, I had yet to hear or see another soul enjoying the river. The view from my seat just a few inches above the surface absorbed every ounce of stress from my body. Overcast, light gray skies and black water separated by brilliantly green trees and the bow of my red Kayak would have inspired the most novice painter with a canvas and brush.

Wildlife was abundant and tolerant to my invasion and I felt like one lucky fan in a stadium all to his own, on the edge of his seat watching the pros. Eagles and Ospreys diving for fish; turtles catching some daylight and breeze atop ancient stumps while Ducks and Geese herded their offspring closer to the banks as I drifted by. Up ahead to my right I noticed a serene, secluded cove and as maneuvered around a slight bend ducking under a tree limb a whitetail buck, just sprouting new antlers,  snorted in my direction from the back of the cove. His auburn summer coat against the green backdrop of the woods glistened as he stood knee deep in the dark water, gauging my intentions. He stayed just long enough for a quick but fuzzy picture and with a flick of his tail, and a quick hop, he melted into the bushes. Luckily the picture in my head is much clearer than the one on my camera.

Beyond the trees on the bank, a distant sound of a tractor working a field reminded me of civilization and I started wondering why I had not paddled into Greensboro yet. Phone service was only registering a bar or two so instead of checking to see where I was, I decided to turn back to Denton. Two hours had just evaporated in what seemed like minutes, but luckily the tide was nearly slack and easy to paddle against for my return. I veered off “trail” a bit on the way back to explore a partially submerged abandoned houseboat appropriately named “Better Days”. A raccoon and a few turtles scattered toward shore as I approached. The day was so peaceful and quiet that I could almost hear the family enjoying the better days on their once floating summer escape. Digging for Denton in an efficient blur of paddle strokes, I flushed a few more Herons and a couple Cranes in route to a til we meet again salute to the momma Osprey I disturbed a few hours earlier. She was a bit more tolerant this time, allowing me to get close enough for a powerful picture of her lifting off from the nest.

Approaching the old neighborhood ramp I couldn’t help but realize how lucky and fortunate I was to have spent a few hours on this beautiful Tributary. Another half mile downstream cars and trucks traversed the river on the Route 404 bridge, seemingly oblivious to the beauty below them. Hopefully, they were all either traveling to or from their own outdoor sanctuary.

I had called ahead and Dad was waiting at the old ramp. I choked up a bit realizing his 80year old self is the one who introduced me to the great outdoors some 45 years ago. “What you think of Greensboro”, he asked when we got back to the house. “Don’t know if I missed it or came up short. Doesn’t matter”, I said as we looked at a map of the river pinned to the garage wall. Turns out the three miles to Greensboro he referred to was by vehicle. The distance by boat turned out to be over 7 miles. I turned around at about the 6-mile mark. I’ll make it to Greensboro next time and maybe Dad will join me in his own kayak. Never expected I would I would feel better at the end of a 12-mile paddle than at the beginning. Well, better mentally anyway.

by Boyd Lawton

REFRESHING FIRST “RUN”

Well, I’ve had enough. Losing my breath while bending over to tie my boots was the last straw. Roll upon roll cut off my air supply as I reached for the laces and the struggle disgusted and scared me a bit! Diets are only a temporary fix and it was time to practice what I preached when I was busting on all those folks I knew who were trying the latest fad diet; eat right and exercise is the only solution. Probably could cut back on the adult beverages as well. So that’s it. No more excuses, no more last hurrahs. I stumbled on a great deal for a new pair of running shoes last week foreshadowing my current declaration. Tomorrow morning, I Run!

Not that I hated exercise (I love to work out with free weights and bicycle) I just never really liked the idea of running or jogging 5k’s or even a .5K! Little aerobic exercise and poor eating habits had taken its toll. My alarm was set for 5 AM but my eyes popped open at 4:30. I laid there for a few minutes contemplating what I was about to do. For final motivation, I grabbed my belly with both hands overflowing and rolled out of bed. I quietly changed into my running attire and stepped outside onto the front porch. I smiled as the cool, quiet September morning greeted my senses. I could smell the grass I cut the afternoon before mixing in with the earthy rich smell of leaves starting to turn colors and die on the trees. I loved this time of day. Reminded me of sitting in my tree stand waiting for first light. I had thought about this moment many times over the last few years and it was starting off better than I had imagined. My plan was to start this process slowly with intervals of walking and running during the first week. The first quarter mile was the toughest. So bad that I envisioned myself wearing a sports bra to quiet my bouncing pectoral muscles! Gradually, by the end of the first mile, my muscles tightened a bit and the jiggling became bearable. During one of my walking intervals, I even briefly forgot that I live inside the city limits. Pausing for a moment where one of the streetlights had flamed out I was able to look up and see a nice patch of stars filtering through the treetops. I had our little urban neighborhood all to myself for the moment and I was glad it was still dark enough to hide the sweaty mess I had become. All things considered, I was tolerating this running thing better than I hoped. I was probably still a long way from experiencing that Runner’s High, but I felt a little buzz as I turned down my street and spotted my house less than a quarter mile away. Time to finish strong. Keeping my eyes glued to the finish line of our house I launched out of my last walking interval into a brief sprint and then into a more manageable trot. Arriving back home I put my hands on my head and plodded up and down the sidewalk out front until my breathing returned to normal from the 3 miles of abuse. By the looks of my clothes, any neighbor waking up and peeking outside may have thought it was raining when they saw me. I was pleasantly surprised by how good I felt as my initial dread turned to hope. I would absolutely try and stick with this routine and shave a minute or two off my time tomorrow. I often say it, but I had just experienced more evidence that the answers to some of life biggest problems can be discovered with a little time outdoors to clear your mind and soul.