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hiking

Morning Hike

Thursday 9 July 2020

We’ve been doing more hiking lately. Three hikes in three weeks. Last week’s hike was a grueling seven-mile hike that included a fair amount of climbing. Today’s hike, in theory, seemed like it would be easier: 5.5 miles with only 1,000 feet of elevation gain.

In actuality, it was easier than even we anticipated. Much of the beginning of the hike was downhill, and then a substantial, flat portion around a lake.

Once we were halfway around the lake, we stopped for lunch and to let the dog romp about in the water and cool off.

And then the heat got to everyone. And the elevation got to E especially.

And the kids were just ready for the whole thing to be over.

Jones Gap

Friday 3 July 2020

We’ve been trying for some time to make it to Jones Gap. The last time we tried, we were turned away because the park was already full. We made it today, though.

Just barely: 7 miles (the Fitbit died before we finished) and something like 1,300 feet of climbing. The kids loved it. Mostly.

K even took a few pics on her phone.

Graveyard Fields

Tuesday 30 June 2020

We hiked Graveyard Fields off the Blue Ridge Parkway twice within six months thirteen years ago:

Graveyard Fields

Repeating Ourselves

K and I are certain we went a third time — though we think it was actually our first time. There’s no mention of it on MTS; I can’t find any pictures of that trip. Still, K and I are certain we went.

This morning, we went for the first time in about thirteen years. The last time we went, L looked like this

Today, when we made it to the same location, I had the Girl stand roughly in the same spot to take a picture:

Where did that little girl go? We’ll be asking the for the rest of our lives, I realize, but every time I ask that question again, I’m surprised again.

Markowe Szczawiny

Tuesday 21 July 2015

We had a few false starts — or at least we had a few situations where the Boy decided he wanted to go on a different trail and had to be convinced to continue on our planned trail.

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We had a few situtations where utter exhaustion threatened the whole adventure.

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We took a few portraits.

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We took a few breaks.

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We played a few games, like pretending to be asleep until a little brother approaches, then shouting “Boo!”

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And of course we ate a few blueberries, though we knew we probably shouldn’t.

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All the same, we somehow made it an incredible distiance, especially for a three-year-old, to the shelter, newly rebuilt, at Markowe Szczawiny.

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We hadn’t really checked beforehand, but the distance from the parking lot to the shelter was a whopping eleven kilometers. That’s 6.8 miles. One way. That the Boy made it probably 70% of the way walking on his own is simply incredible.

More incredible even than the views along the way.

Another Return To Table Rock, Redux

Monday 22 August 2011

There’s a great trail along the stream and up the side of a mountain that’s just right for short legs.

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There’s a fun swimming hole. There are tadpoles squirting about, drawing undue attention to themselves from would-be harassers.

Searching for Tadpoles

There’s a cooling waterfall with which L becomes more and more courageous. (The corollaries to this is a new ability to put her face in the water and a develop preference of showering over bathing.)

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There are smaller waterfalls nearby that are positively picturesque.

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There are nature shows that allow kids to handle frogs, turtles, and multiple snakes, as well as learn about how helpful some snakes can truly be.

Audience

The Climb

Snake Handler

And there’s an ice cream shop just down the road.

Ice Cream

Perhaps these are some of the reasons we keep returning to Table Rock State Park whenever we can.

Return to Table Rock

Monday 1 August 2011

The plan was simple: get up at a reasonable hour, drive two hours to a spot in northern Georgia, and be awed at the fantastic views of a canyon known as the “Grand Canyon of the South.” But such plans begin taking shape the evening before, and when the evening drifts into the morning and all the adults are still awake, the likelihood of the plans coming to fruition diminishes greatly.

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The backup plan — the realistic plan — was a return to Table Rock State Park. At only forty-five minutes away, it seemed a more logical choice for a late start. Being in the mountains, it also seemed a more comfortable choice.

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We hiked the trail we always tale: Carrick Creek trail, appropriate both for its length (four-year-olds can walk only so far) and for its scenery, which is both beautiful and, more importantly for the kids, amusing. (Who doesn’t love playing in waterfalls or slipping and sliding on moss-covered rocks?)

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The hike was more engaging with a game, so the kids had a contest: who could find the most trail markings on trees? It’s a common game we play with L to keep her interested in the walk. We played it in Slovakia a year ago, and every time we’re on a trail by ourselves, we encourage the Girl to look for the signs.

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Despite the fact that both contestants marched right by trail makers without noticing them as they tried desperately to be first (apparently it was a dual contest), the game ended in a tie, which was frustrating for both the kids but a relief to the adults: one less wound to soothe. No one likes to eat a picnic when one of the diners is tinged with tragedy, feeling the sting of an unfair loss.

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Any heated tempers would have been quickly cooled, though: the lake’s swimming area was closed, leaving only one option for cooling off after an arduous mile hike.

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Roots

Saturday 16 July 2011

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Table Rock State Park, Part II

Sunday 10 July 2011

Returning to places as a parent provides a yardstick for your child’s growth. The last time we visited Table Rock State Park, the Girl just shy of two years old. Her recently bald head was beginning to have enough hair to make her feminine, and she was beginning to talk. (When we watch videos of her at this age, though, neither K nor I can understand much of what she says sometimes.)

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That first trip, she toddled along for some of the short hike, but most of the time, either K or I carried her in a frame-less child carrier: twenty pounds of wiggle followed twenty pounds of sweat-inducing insulation.

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Three years later, and she is Miss Independence, resisting help on all but the steepest portions of the two-mile loop and occasionally pontificating, “It is time for a break!”

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Last trip, she was barely aware of the camera; this trip, she posed. In fact, we had to tell her to stop posing occasionally: she has a tendency to get carried away.

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Yet some things have not changed in three years: Baby still is a constant companion, having been hiking in the mountains of Poland, photographed on the town square of Krakow, and one harrowing time, left at Target for one terrifying night.

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Imitation is still the order of the day, and fussing-filled frustration will likely be a frequent visitor for years to come.

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Yet the changes. We stopped for a break, and the Girl was curious: “Where are we?” K pulled out the map and showed her. At the next bend in the trail, she asked for the map to try to find where we were. The fact that she was completely off is of no importance: the curiosity is the treasure.

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Curiosity was enough later to overcome fear and touch a corn snake in the nature center. K took a step further in overcoming that latent terror that seems to be in all of us almost instinctively.

Most telling was the conclusion: splashing about the lake with restricted parental supervision (the swimming area was about to close, so there was no time for us to change anyone but the Girl), she gravitated toward the deeper portions.

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She called out, “Look how far away I am from you, Mama!”

Long Weekend

Monday 6 September 2010

A three-day weekend allows us to do things we wouldn’t ordinarily do over the weekend. Trips and mini-vacations come to mind on Labor Day weekend, but we elected to stay at home. A hurricane brewing and a coughing daughter made us cancel our plans of camping at the beach, so we did things out of the ordinary.

Like go to Target.

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L spent her own money, which Nana and Papa (from whom else would she have received it?) had intended the money for our trip to Polska. She’d received so many gifts — from friends, family, and a particularly sneaky godmother — that we simply didn’t encourage her to spend it.

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Now the encouraging begins. What to buy? So much cash, so many princesses, so little parental support. In the end, she went with Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. The classics.

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We finished Saturday at the park, with K and I musing how much she’s grown since the first time we went to this neighborhood playground. Saturday she ran wildly, losing sight of us and popping up here and there giggling. Our first visit was cautious: no running without knowing where Mama and Tata are. No climbing without a protective hand on the bottom. No swinging without a toddler swing seat.

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The follower has become the leader. “Come on, Mama!” she cried out when we went to the empty baseball field. “Chase me! Catch me!” We can still catch her, but it’s not a question of three quick steps and swoosh! she’s in our arms.

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She’s become a moving target, with a sure, steady gait and a strong sense of independence.

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As she sat, talking to Nana and Papa, the “I can see her as a tween, as a teen, as an adult” moment washed over me all over again. The independence, the quick feet, the willingness to explore: all these things indicate the inevitable, but we so infrequently notice it.

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Sunday, we headed back to the park, but this time, a large state park with a couple of lakes, a few miles of trails, and plenty of rocks for climbing.

And boats.

Blue boats.

Blue glittery boats.

“The only thing that would make this more perfect,” I suggested as we neared the paddle boats, “would be for the sparkles to be pink.”

“Right!” came the response.

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Where did this love of pink come from? Pink is the stereotypical girl color, and we have in fact tried to avoid purchasing pink clothes for her. Yet pink remains the eternal runner-up in the “my favorite color” contest.

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The only way to make the day more perfect was a picnic. “A picnic!” L cried. “I’m so happy!”

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With a mayonnaise-cheese sandwich (what odd taste little girls can have) and all the watermelon she could eat, she certainly had cause for joy.

The walk that followed somewhat damped that joy. “I want to go home!” was a common refrain,

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until we reached a small clearing with plenty of rocks for skipping (“making ducks” in Polish) and general tossing.

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As might have been expected, L modified the previous refrain, adding a quick “don’t” when we suggested it was time to go.

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But we were all tired, and bedtime was approaching. Only the princesses were still on their feet.