This campground held a secret. If you went in, past the knee high weeds, under the dead-fall branches, right along the shoreline, there was a small, beaten path.  It wasn’t planned, but it was there. It ran up and down the hillside on the shoreline. There were places where the edge dropped off into the lake 30 feet down.  There was a spot where it diverted because of a tree that had fallen over the old path. This path was well traveled, but tough. It was dangerous at places, difficult and dirty.  This path required a certain determination. This path was full of adventure, but it also lead the traveler through some thickets that scratched their legs. This path was many things, but the prize it provided was that when followed, through its many obstacles, the traveler felt alive, felt attuned to the world around her.  The traveler learned quickly that the goal was not where the path ended or a certain destination, but rather the goal was the path itself, and that it was being traveled.