The Soundtrack

It is raining outside. I love the rain. Though tempting it may be to stay inside on a day such as this, tuck into the couch with the comforts of unhealthy snack foods and watch movies, too many characteristics of a rainfall draw me from my television and into the outdoors.

There is a romanticism in the way it smells during a storm; the sweet aroma of fresh water reminds me of a new beginning for tired times. There is a refreshing look in the way everything shows itself through a different light; purples become more vibrant, leafy greens seem to coruscate from their branches and red tends to gleam beneath a thin layer of sparkling water .

Lightning filling the sky on the occasion of a thunderstorm is an unmatched sight, bringing the excitement of mild fear with the beauty of naturally occurring theatrics. I love the way people who come out in rainstorms, unbeknownst to them, are in better moods because of it, ducking into a store, drenched from head to toe, laughing with the person next to them about how "crazy it is out there". The weather gives us all something to talk about, regardless of unfamiliarity with our listeners. Above all else, however, what draws me most to the event of a rainy day is the many sounds it produces.

Standing on my balcony, listening to the echo of tin reverberate through the apartment, the same effect coming from the larger droplets hitting the cement, brings a unique complacence to my day. The sounds of kids running and playing in the rain reminds me of my own youth and playing in the streets, soaked to the bone and not caring because, hey, it's only water. My brother and I used to go so far as to make mudslides in the backyard during some of the more severe storms of memories past. Suddenly and without realizing it, listening to the sounds and reflecting on these things has made me smile; and while it would be admittedly awkward, strange, perhaps even certifiable for me to head out into the narrow field behind my complex and start rolling in mud, I am inspired just the same to seek out a soundtrack to this day and to this particular storm.

With water pelting against the windshield, wipers squeaking back and forth and radio off, I head into a direction not yet known to me, turning down a road that seems interesting and obscure. Strangely enough, I wind up next to a limestone quarry and the Guelph Humane Society, truly odd neighbours, and I park my car on the shoulder of the dirt road and get out, finding a narrow trail set back into the bordering evergreen forest. This is where I start my hike along Speed River.

As I head beneath the canopy of the trees, there is a serene wave of quiet. Not from the falling rain, but from everything else that still hovers so close by. For brief moments at a time I can no longer hear the traffic from the nearby Hanlon, but when I do, even that in itself seems pleasant as water bounces back from the road as the cars glide over it. In the moments of natural silence, with only the sound of light water trickling through leaves, the bright colours I had mentioned before seem to sparkle and shine just as I hoped they would.

Following the path I eventually emerge from the wooded area and when I do I am greeted yet again with the pleasantries of falling showers meeting flowing waters, the two becoming one and continuing on to a small waterfall, climaxing in a rushing wave of ambiance. Along this path by the water I continue, picking up more sights and more sounds that make the world pause for a moment. It is then that I realize not only has following my urge to both generate and trigger memories caused me to reflect, it has also brought me someplace new in this city, and so I keep walking, exploring, and listening.

Under and over bridges, through overgrown pathways and across muddy breaks in the trail, I finally I reach what I assume to be the end of my route at Speedvale Park, where Wellington and Edinburgh intersect. I've passed this park many times in my car and have always thought it would be a nice place for a stroll, yet out of sheer laziness I kept driving, barely giving it a second thought. With this in mind I ask myself "why stop here when I've nowhere to be and I'm not going to get any wetter?" so I cross the road and follow the path onward, still walking along the edge of the river.

A beautiful scene on any day, this path brings me to Royal City Park at Gordon, where I stop, take a seat and truly "soak" in my surroundings. Submerged in sight and sound, I allow myself to slip away for a while and honestly relax, in a way I've not done for quite some time. As I sit there in peace, I think of how Guelph is full of these rest areas and parks, and though I have explored a number of them, their identities change day to day simply by the people that inhabit them, not to mention by the changing of the seasons, which, because I'm still new to the area, I'm getting to explore for the first time now that the leaves are beginning to turn. Be it Speedvale or Riverside, the park areas of this city have impressed me every step of the way.

Only when the time feels right do I look at my watch and subsequently, after a good two hours of slow trekking, begin to question the backwards whereabouts and security of my car. Such is always the case when hiking: no matter how far you go and how many curious bends you peak around, you still need to turn and make your way back. I wish I had a bike.

Just as enjoyable as the walk inwards, the return journey offered me a new perspective and some comforting moments of deeper thought. It is in this spirit that, on a day like this, when gloom seems to be the aura and staying in seems the best laid plan, there is always the alternative to head out and see even the familiar areas of past travels in a slightly different light, with different people, different smells and of course different sounds. In doing so, who knows what memories you will trigger, what locales you will explore and what people you will run into.

Slowly drying off
-Phil

PS Given the dire consequences of mixing water and electricity, I have no pictures to share from this little adventure.