Soon the sunny days of summer will be here, the high mountain passes will open up again, the spring run-off that makes mountain creeks impassable torrents will subside, and it will the season for backpacking into the wilderness, for leaving man and all his works behind -- well, except for map and compass, tent and sleeping bag, hatchet and knife.... 
Already my feet anticipate the feel of sturdy hiking boots and wool socks over cotton booties, and in my mind's eye I am already turning my face to the breeze, stretching my legs in long, mile-eating strides, eager to get going, to get away.
Maybe one day I'll just keep going and never come back.

A Walk
My eyes already touch the sunny hill,
going far beyond the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has an inner light, even from a distance --

and changes us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave…
But what we feel is the wind in our faces.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke