Sprocket Trail, Hillman State Park

Another unexpectedly happy day at Hillman State Park. It seems that a place will give itself to you anew when you return to it after a long absence. This time around, on a Wednesday afternoon, I found two cars parked at the trailhead for the Figure 8 Trail, which I explored on my day off last week.  Instead, I made for a once-anonymous trail on which I'd gotten lost plenty of times--back before the park service put up blazes and signage: the weirdly named Sprocket Trail.

Nothing that has the word "sprocket" in its name has anything to do with sprockets.  I offer as evidence for that claim the old 90s pop band "Toad the Wet Sprocket" and, well, the only other thing...the Sprocket Trail.  What exactly is a sprocket anyway?  Unless I'm mistaken, it's the raised teeth on the rotor where a bicycle chain connects to the rotor...or anything like said teeth.  Hardly an item worthy of a one-hit-wonder band or a humble trail through the reclaimed strip mines of Hillman.  

Sprocket Trail is more of a trail system than a single track.  And like most of the paths through Hillman, it is circuitous and beset with many, many sidetracks which lead nowhere but which are fun to ride on a mountain bike.  Ah, but if you press on far enough, it does lead through some lovely evergreen forests, blessed spots of silence and serenity, where tall, straight tree trunks rise above the mossy forest floors like the pillars of some woodland temple.  The forest floor here is scattered about with soft pine needles and very little underbrush, creating a warm, hushed feel, as if you were strolling in a carpeted gallery.  The winter sun streams through the high canopy and gives the whole place a golden hue.  

Thankfully, the ground was frozen solid.  If it hadn't been, then parts of these trails would have been pure muck and very hard to hike.  Nothing tears up a trail like horses.  The northernmost reaches of the Sprocket Trail offered these modest vistas again and a sense of deep solitude.

For years now, my wife and I have been buying our own Christmas presents, putting them away until Christmas morning, and then showing each other what they got us for Christmas.  In my case it was a pair of Vasque St. Elias hiking boots--a really good quality boot and pretty expensive.  When I tried it on at the new Public Lands store in Cranberry, the 10.5 felt comfortably snug, whereas the 11 felt like a clown shoe.  I chose snugness...but now, after having worn them out on the trail twice, I wonder if it's not always better to err on the side of the clown shoe?  I love the boots, but they do cramp my feet.  I've probably scuffed them up too badly to take them back.  I refuse to believe that our feet grow bigger as we age; I'm only 15 pounds heavier than I was when I graduated high school.  I think I'd almost rather hike in boots too small for my feet than consent to wearing an 11.

I believe that you can make economies with almost anything in life EXCEPT shoes.  It's certainly true of clothing: buy some cheap brand of socks, underwear, shirts even.  Yeah, sure, you'll always feel the difference between the cheap stuff and the quality stuff, and if you need the sensation and the look of a really good shirt on your back, then you'll have to pay for it.  Good pants are especially nice.  Who cares?  But when it comes to your shoes, you need the good stuff.  Always.