We felt suddenly nostalgic. The weather was certainly conducive to lengthening our usual circuit. When we first moved into our new house 23 years ago, crossing over to the 'other side' of the ravine to navigate its limited trails on that side used to part of our daily after-work routine. We were younger then, of course, and we sped at that time through the trails. There was one in particular that was always a little footing-tricky; narrow, above a bit of a gorge that required special attention, but we enjoyed it.

And another trail, accessed through some bit of manoeuvring, that went on for quite awhile, though we never did manage to reach its end-point, mostly because we were actually making the trail; no one appeared to have pioneered it before we did. In the winter months part of it became a glassy enterprise in ice-skidding, but all those challenges motivated us to go on, and we did. That wasn't the only 'trail' we carved out on our own and through frequent use saw it really become a trail.

Yesterday the weather had turned from hot and muggy to extremely cool, overcast and windy. Perfect for a little exploration. Not exactly exploring, but re-visiting that complex of trails we hadn't been by in years as our chronological age and less physical stamina persuaded us to take shorter circuits as time went on.

When we deviated from our usual trail routine, little Riley picked up speed and enthusiasm as he usually does when we venture somewhere he doesn't recognize; he does tend to become bored with the same old routine, unlike most other dogs, although he isn't a particularly adventuresome little fellow.

Once we ventured on our deviated trek, made our way down a hillside and over to a bridge to take us up and over to clamber up another hill and access the first of the areas that had been so familiar to us long ago, we discovered it to have become a groomed, wide footpath.  Obviously to service the residents of houses that had been built nearby long after we had first frequented that area, when we used to daily backpack our granddaughter there, to access a nearby playing field adjacent a school.

When we attempted to access our old difficult-to-reach, let alone know-where-to-look trails, they were overgrown and it was clear no one had been using them. At one juncture we understood why that would be; part of the hillside had caved in and fallen into the ravine below, so we backtracked. Another trail we used to access also had been blocked in and overgrown; another, and yet another.

When we did make our way down one long slope to venture further where we would access another old trail, we found the same thing had occurred; we were able to go along the traces of the old trail and then encountered another collapse. Back up the long slope we went, followed by merciless mosquitoes and blackflies because the ground underfoot was sodden with yesterday's torrential rain which couldn't be absorbed because the ground had already been over-soaked with previous rain events.

We did come across ample areas up on the flat meadow-like places where fleabane, daisies, cowvetch, chicory and yarrow grew in colourful abundance. And we took photographs of one venerable old pine standing just where it should be, its elderly companions long gone, without a puzzling trace. It was, by and large, a rather dismal look back at what had been held so fondly in our memory. Leaving us with an emotion that was difficult to describe; pensive, sad, forlorn.