Freeze gallon size water jugs and all freeze-able items. This saves on ice and helps keep things colder longer. A gallon of frozen water was used for the (instant) lemonade the first night and ice water was passed around on the home stretch as a refreshing treat.
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I’m sitting here waiting for the barbershop to open (it’s that time of the month again) and reading news feeds. Lots of crazy stupid stuff.
A stag with a headdress full of fishing gear, ww2 Nazi fog are just a couple. There is so much news and information available to us now a person could easily be overwhelmed by the magnitude of things wrong in the world. But every day, we each have the opportunity, to make our world, where we live, where our loved ones live, just a little bit better. Don’t waste your opportunity.
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… Today is “Ditch Day” While I’m sure everyone wants to be inside at the office this Friday for the full 8 hours, some folks have the crazy idea getting outside is good for you!
Akin to REI’s #OptOutside, #DitchDay is Kelty’s version of having some fun and encouraging folks to just simply get out more and have some fun today. If you don’t ditch work today, I’m sure the boss will understand (comment if for some reason your boss bailed on today!), but be sure to take a few extra moments for yourself, outside of course. Eat lunch on the patio, take an extra lap around the park, enjoy yourself, even for just a bit.
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So, this is Radar. He’s a Blue Heeler and is just over a year old now. We came across each other a couple months ago. Sometimes in the course of normal events, your life changes. For both Radar and I, this is one of those times.
I had been considering a dog for a while now for a number of reasons. Maybe part trail buddy, part body guard, part wing-man, who knows. A few years ago, I had once hiked a 20 mile piece of mountain trail with a group. One of the hikers had a great trail dog with him. This trail buddy would constantly run up and down the group starting in the front and working toward the back, checking on every hiker in the group. For twenty miles. He was never more than 20 feet off trail and never more than a few hundred yards from his master. Quite honestly, I felt like I needed that kind of a buddy now from somewhere deep down inside me. But I didn’t really have any particular breed or clear concept in mind. It’s funny how these things work out sometimes.
I had shared some of my idea for a four legged companion with a friend of mine, Brenda, and the hunt began. She had done some checking and offered to go with me to go to a friend of hers “just to look” at one. Her friend boards dogs in the area and happened to have a young heeler someone had dropped off. Radar had been with her for a month or so while she was trying to find him a home. For Radar, he seemed to have had a rocky start. He had been given up or returned several times in his just short first year of life. I think he would fall pretty cleanly in to the “rescue dog” category. Rejected, abandoned, and unwanted, he waited. Even in a pack of dogs he stood out to me. I really couldn’t tell you why, maybe it was his story, maybe it was mine. But that day, I left with him on a borrowed lead and a commitment in my heart to try my best to be a good companion for him.
It’s been about four months now since our paths crossed. We’re still working out a couple small differences (he likes to get up early, I like to sleep in a bit), and learning about each other (he loves to chase a ball or toy, but really doesn’t float well). I work with him and he teaches me what he knows. My life has changed again, and so has his. Both for the better.
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The week is about over and I’m heading camping this weekend with a bunch of new campers. This weekend should be fun as I really enjoy introducing new campers to the outdoors. With spring just around the corner, I am looking forward to the weather starting to break and the green to start popping. I so wanting to get out on a trail soon. So much of “normal” life gets in the way of that however (heavy sigh). I really need fix that, but for now, it’s the new campers campout which will help take the edge off “civilized” life.
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Following our lunch under the pines, we continue towards Poinsett State Park and the end of our hike. I know we’re near the the end now, there is a public parking lot ahead for staging mountain bikes and horses, our hiking trail passes through it on the way to the state park. However as we emerge from under the tall pines, about a half mile from this parking lot, we are presented a view which is hard to describe. The hills rising up in front of us are raw, striped bare of all living things. I am a little surprised at the completeness of the destruction. We hike up from the creek bed to the top of the hill and look around. Hundreds of acres of nature, wiped away. There are no bushes. There is no grass. There is no wildlife. There are no more trails. The only things remaining, are charred broken sticks where a forest once was. Even the tree stumps are cut so close to the ground as to be nonexistent. The caretakers of the land have sold off their charge to the highest bidder. This saddens me greatly. I look around for a sign of our trail, out of habit I guess, only to realize following a trail here doesn’t really matter any more. We strike out across the wasteland to get to the road crossing as quickly as we can. We pick up the trail and crossing over in to the state park side of the hike, I am relieved to find one of my favorite parts of this hike still intact, the little forest of scrub oaks draped with Spanish moss. But as I look back sadly, with a heavy heart, at the desolate, charred, waste behind me, I wonder … who speaks for the trees?
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Most of the trail in this section is wide enough to walk side-by-side, making conversation easier between hikers in a group. I enjoy listening to the path these conversation take. On some hikes the same theme may run for days. Today the trail talk is mostly down memory lane. Some of our group will be graduating soon or moving on to do other things. Today, as we hike through the Manchester State Forest, they are reminiscing fondly about past exploits and adventures of past camping trips. I know we are nearing a cut section of forest soon, so we take our mid-day break on a small hill, under a stand of tall pines. It’s cool but not cold, the forecast rain threatened, but ultimately was a no-show for this trip. Everyone is relaxing a bit sitting on the blanket of pine needles, eating, chatting, and airing their feet. Someone is debating the pro’s and con’s of grits verses oatmeal as a breakfast choice. Someone is sharing their favorite trail lunch. It’s a great day to be out on the trail with friends. It’s days like this which make me want to keep going.
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It’s been a while, but it feels good to get out again. I’m sitting at picnic table in the dark cool pre-dawn hours at Mill Creek county park, enjoying a warm drink of coffee and hot chocolate. There are eight others in our group. We’re hiking the High Hills of Santee. For some of them, this is their first backpacking experience, for others, they have hiked this section of the palmetto trail before, maybe even several time. For me, I think I must have been down this trail over a dozen times. It will be nice to be back on the trail again, it’s like visiting an old friend, almost like coming home. The sky is starting to lighten a little. They are all still sleeping now, but soon will be up, making bathroom runs, chatting, cooking breakfast, breaking camp, and packing their gear for the hike. But right now it’s quite.
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Today is a special day in my country, it is a day of giving thanks. While some may flame, criticize, and chastise the custom’s origins, the bottom line, for me, it is a time to pause and reflect about the things we value in our lives.
Days of giving thanks are celebrated in other countries as well, typically in the fall, more or less for similar reasons. But today is my country’s day to give thanks for what we have. The American holiday of Thanksgiving originated with the early European settlers to the Americas and, as legends go, the early Pilgrims pulled together with the Indians, to give thanks for a successful harvest, which they hoped would carry them through the harsh winter coming. As a little guy growing up, I remember the excitement of drawing turkeys by tracing our hand (the thumb was the head, the palm the body, and the other four fingers the tail feathers), coloring and cutting them out to decorate the class room, mom’s refrigerator, and pretty much anything which didn’t move. We we taught one of the reasons there was a Thanksgiving, was the native American Indians had watched these struggling new European settlers, took pity on them, and helped them adapt the the new world. They were instrumental in making the settlers fall harvest a successful one. I learned in school growing up, everyone, the settlers and the Indians, sat down at the same table and shared in the bounty of the harvest. True or not, hundreds of years later, we, today will sit and share with others, what we can. We will share with family. We will share with friends. We will share with strangers. We will think of our loved ones who could not be together with us, due to distance or obligations, and we will think about our loved ones who have passed from us. In a way, I feel Thanksgiving is about the past, the successes, things we have overcome, the fact we can travel to be with others, the fact we have food and drink to share.
Sitting here writing this in the early morning hours, as the rising sun lightens the eastern sky, I think, Thanksgiving is about hope too. The early settlers were hopeful they would survive the winter. Sometimes our lives may not always take us down the trail we think, but today, I am thankful. Today I think am hopeful too. I am hopeful for the good things in our country. I am hopeful for being able to spend time with separated family. I am hopeful, the folks I love stay healthy and in my life for a while longer. I am hopeful, there are new opportunities, friends, and relationships which enrich my life. I am hopeful.
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Contemplating the intricacies of life as I sit, sipping my coffee, in a downtown cafe, waiting. I look back gently on my own life, wondering. Have I done enough? Can I find a happiness which beams like the sun shine?
The journey we travel doesn’t always lead us where we think it will. Sometimes you will pass through fields of green pastures, and crest beautiful summits. Sometimes you pass through valleys of shadows and darkness. I wonder and wait.
I find traveling alone, somewhat sad in ways difficult to express. But on occasion, you meet someone you remember as always smiling. Always. And I cannot help but wonder. I feel lucky to have known them, even for just the short time our paths crossed, as I sit and wait.
I wonder if I can be just a little bit like them. Just maybe, I can keep a piece of the happiness they shared close. The warm ember shared from a friend. And maybe their glow will help light the darkness for me, like fireflies in the summer night.
I sit waiting and wondering. They are on a different journey now, their passage paid.
It’s time now, I must go. Today I go to help bury someone I can call a friend.
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