A Kinda Easter

When I was little nearly all holidays were spent at my grandparents' house. There'd be aunts and uncles to listen to and cousins to play with. Since moving to South Carolina five years ago a number of these same holidays have become somewhat awkward. With no family nearby, days like Easter tend to be just like any other day - other than the fact they begin with baskets of eggs, candy, crackers, toys, and baseball cards (due to Ainsley's request we did not put underwear in anyone's basket this time around).

This year we avoided the holiday all together by planning a trip to the beach. We left home at 8:00 in the morning and were on the beach at Isle of Palms by 10:30 enjoying the waves and sand with all the other non-church goers. By the time the sun rose directly above our heads the non-heathans finished their morning services and crowded in among us. Evidently a day at the beach sounds like a pretty good Easter to a lot of other families as well.
I noticed right away that the kids were different this year. In years past Harper would want me to hold her hand as she fought her way through the surf. Ty would only venture a few feet out and Ainsley avoided the water all together. They are obviously getting older - and braver. Harper and Muluken had to be constantly reminded to go no further than the end of the pier as their tiny heads bobbed up and down out past the biggest waves. Ty and Ainsley both giggled their way out quite far as well. Keeping track of all four was more taxing than relaxing. I'm sure there will be a day when a trip to the beach is filled with lounging, reading, and splashing around in the water but believe me when I say that day has not yet come. One head, two heads, three heads, four. All day is spent counting, recounting, and giving the "Come back, you're too far out" wave.

There was a short time today when Ty went missing. He was supposed to be following me up the beach toward our stuff but somehow took a wrong turn. Muluken found him just a few minutes later heading for the stairs to the boardwalk. As we showered off and changed into dry clothes I thought back to a fiction piece I wrote two years ago about visiting the beach. I'm going to post it here since there are a handful of new readers who check in from time to time. I had originally named the piece "June" and planned to write accompanying pieces for each of the other months of the year. Though I'm still not closer to finishing this it does strike me as a good idea.

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I hate the beach.

My friend Brooke says it’s her favorite place because she gets to relax and to read and to let the world just peel away from her like bark from a birch tree. There was a time I would agree, looking out over the horizon and feeling the wind sweep across my face and listening to the cadence of the sea coming in to greet me. Everything about it makes you want to stay forever.

Almost everything.

Going to the beach starts out well enough. The first weekend of every June we squeeze everything into the van – towels and blankets and pails and shovels and chairs and snacks and sunscreen. Four kids. Tricia and I. Two-and-a-half hours away is a county park on Isle of Palms that has the softest sand. It never burns your feet no matter how hot it gets outside. I don’t know how this works - it just does. Muluken says it’s because we’re boys and we’re tough but I remind him that his mother and sisters are girls and they’re tough too. He doesn’t look convinced and flexes his tiny brown muscles in protest.

Ty reacts to the beach like a June bug reacts to light. He runs around, wildly bouncing off things. Off people. We try our best to reel him in but our arms are full of bags and coolers so for this one moment – this one day – he gets to act like a child. After a year of time-outs he probably deserves at least as much.

We find a spot to drop our stuff. It has to be close enough to the waterline so that we can see it from the surf yet not so close that we will have to retreat from the rising tide. Tricia says I obsess over the spot too much. She says I’m like an old man circling the mall parking lot in search of the perfect spot by the door. I couldn’t really say, but it is important to me. I do take it seriously.

The first thing Harper does is to grab her boogie board and head off toward the water. The board has a big picture of Dora on it and it’s really too babyish for an eight year old but she doesn’t seem to mind. It’s functional and she knows how hard it is to find money to replace the things that aren’t broken. She bounds through the waves trying to get past the breakers but her frame is small and she has the legs of a reader. She’s knocked to the ground numerous times before she finally wrestles her way to calmer waters. Despite the effort, a smile as wide as a Wal-Mart parking lot spreads across her face and she squeals uncontrollably. She has been waiting for this exact moment all year long.

Tricia and I make our way down to the water to take this all in. By this point Muluken and Ty have joined their big sister while Ainlsey – sweet, little Ainsley – dances around us begging to search for seashells. Not liking to get her face wet, she prefers to stay on dry land. Tricia takes her hand and together they head off toward the pier in search of half-buried treasures.

I breathe in all that salty air and sunshine and then I run out to join the kids. And that’s how the beach starts.

Not a bad start.

But not long after the morning shadows disappear everything changes. My heart somehow knows before my eyes do. I look out at the water. And I look out across the beach. And I count three heads. Just three heads. When there should be four.

And now, I hate the beach.

I hate the beach because when I yell for Tricia I can see that she’s already noticed. She’s looking around and every ounce of blood has drained from her cheeks and her knuckles are bone white as she clenches the sides of her swimsuit. She looks at me and says something I can’t hear. Suddenly I’m very aware of all the noise. And all the people.

I run down to the water as Tricia makes her way across the sand. I glance back over my shoulder hoping to see her signal to me that everything’s okay – that she has found what, at this moment in time, I need to see more than anything else in the entire world. But she hasn’t. I can see that she’s screaming now, moving from towel to towel, person to person, pleading with them to help. But no one does because they don’t understand. No one understands. No one but us. And among all these people I suddenly feel alone.

I turn back to the water and there are so many bodies and the sun is so bright that I can barely make sense of what I’m seeing. I move out further to get a better view. The waves crash down on me so as to make me turn away -but I refuse to. The saltwater stings my eyes and my feet betray me as I fall back and I’m surrounded now by nothing but muddled sounds and murky water and more than at any other point in my life I feel completely out of control.

Tricia gathers up the other three kids and asks them if they’ve seen anything. They laugh at her because they think this is some kind of trick or joke and they don’t understand the seriousness of the situation. They don’t understand what’s at stake. She orders them back to our blanket because she doesn’t have the time to make them understand. Or the heart.

She tells me to go get the lifeguard.

The lifeguard smiles at me and calmly climbs down from her chair. She looks to be all of about nineteen years old and flips her hair from her face as she reaches back to grab a radio. I want to scream: How can you be so calm? She asks a few questions of which I try to answer but I can’t concentrate. My mind is racing. I’m scared and angry and the lifeguard is still acting casually as if this type of thing happens every day. Every day to some kid. But this isn’t just some kid. It’s mine.

She gets on her walkie and begins talking to someone else. I look down the beach to see if one of the other lifeguards is beginning to move or to look toward us. Finally, I see one of them signal to her. She tells me that she has put out an alert and that I need to backtrack through all the places we’ve been. I’m happy to have been given an instruction. Happy to have someone else who knows.

I turn to go find Tricia and see immediately that she is standing at the water’s edge - tears streaming down her face, her heart beating through the purple diamonds that line her swimsuit.

Her entire face is swollen.

She drops to her knees. And she screams.

A numbness falls over me like I’ve never felt before and my heart is pounding and pounding and pounding and I hate the beach.

But then… I see her reach out. Out toward the sea and a wide smile washes over her face, erasing the terror. I realize now that the screams were not of pain, but of joy.

She wraps her arms around a confused set of shoulders that have waded in through the pools of water left from the tide. She pulls those shoulders in to her tightly and squeezes them with all the strength she has left.

I run over and I grab hold of both of them and we sit that way for a very long time.

Afraid to let go.

I look out over their heads at the vast blue ocean and see something I had never noticed before and I wonder: What if…?

And now, I hate the beach.

When Lyrics Go Bad

A few days ago I picked up my guitar and began strumming it just before the end of our school day.

'I'm thinking maybe we could take what we've been learning about slavery, abolitionists, and the Civil War and write another song together," I said. "A lot of the stuff we've been noticing and talking about would be good to share out. Do you have any ideas?"

This is often how it starts. Not always, but often. I notice something we've been doing that might make a decent song and we start fiddling around with it ten and fifteen minutes at a time until we have enough to really dig in and flush it out. I kept strumming.

"So what do you think?" I asked. "Who has a line to get us started?"

There's a time for hand-raising. Songwriting generally is not that time. A couple of the kids called out the first thing that came to their mind.

"Slavery is wrong!"
"It's not our color but what's under our skin!"
"Our differences don't matter!"

I nodded my head in agreement.

"Those are some powerful ideas," I said. "We just need to make them sound like a song lyric. Something we'd hear on the radio. How about the whole idea that many of the heroes we've been learning about aren't the ones you hear about on television or in the textbook? Could we do something with that?"

Madison's face lit up. "You don't have to be Superman to be a hero."

"Yeah," I said. "You don't have to be Superman. And you don't have to have a gun or sword."

"That's good," someone called out.

That was as far as we got. We threw a few more things around but they didn't stick. Later I shared this with my buddy Tim who teaches next door. Tim writes all kinds of songs with his kids that are often far more sophisticated than our simple rhythms and melodies. I told him about our one line, You don't have to be Superman to be a hero, as well as Jack's idea to include information about the abolitionists we admired and Hannah's idea to end the song with a message that we could all be heroes and stand up for what we feel is right.

"Oh man," he said. "That's it. That song will just write itself."

Except it didn't. We've worked at it a little bit to no avail. Sometimes the process is so easy. Other times not. Songwriting can be a challenge. Even for the pros.

Last weekend Tricia and I were about to go to bed when I picked up the remote and flipped through the stations. I came across Austin City Limits, a live-performance music show that's been around for 35 years (making it the longest running music show on television). ACL features all sorts of musicians, from Willie Nelson to Jack Johnson to Etta James. Some are legends, others are a flash-in-the-pan, and a few are bands you've never even heard of. I imagine it's the variety that makes the show so cool. I hardly ever watch it but I certainly appreciate that it exists.

So I waited to find out who was going to be on and was excited to see it was REM. Growing up, they were one of my favorite bands. I could name at least one or two dozen songs of theirs that I still really love. That's not true of many of the bands I liked as a teenager.

I settled in as Tricia, realizing we weren't going to bed after all, collapsed into her chair and quickly fell to sleep. A few songs in it was obvious this wasn't going to be a "greatest hits" performance. The songs were all new and, sadly, not that great. Worse of all were the lyrics. They were just silly.

I feel like an alligator
Climbing up the escalator
Climbing up the escalator
I feel strong

I feel like an aviator pilot
Thinks you wouldn't buy it
I'm feeling violent
Beat your bleeding eye in
Hey, hey, alligator, you've got a lot to learn
I have, have got a lot to learn


Uh, what? I can only hope the next song is better.

I would dare you, but I know I don't need to
You're going to do just what you want to
You're going to take the leading chair at the fairground
You're going to sing the praises of your fruit

Mine smell like honey, uh!
Mine smell like honey, uh!
Mine smell like hu- hu- hu- honey, uh!

Guess not. Suddenly I found myself doubting my entire taste in music. Could the old songs have been this bad? The power of internet soon helped me find my answer.


Orange Crush (An old favorite of mine)

Follow me, don’t follow me
I’ve got my spine, I’ve got my orange crush
Collar me, don’t collar me
I’ve got my spine, I’ve got my orange crush
We are agents of the free
I’ve had my fun and now its time to
Serve your conscience overseas
(over me, not over me)
Coming in fast, over me

Radio Free Europe (Another old favorite)

Beside yourself if radio's gonna stay.
Reason: it could polish up the grey.
Put that, put that, put that up your wall
That this isn't country at all

Raving station, beside yourself

Keep me out of country in the word
Deal the porch is leading us absurd.
Push that, push that, push that to the hull
That this isn't nothing at all


Ugh. When I was younger I think I just assumed I wasn't smart enough, or at least deep enough, to understand the meanings of these songs. Now, though, I think maybe they just don't make any sense at all.


So I set out to find other examples of really bad lyrics. Many of these proved that making sense still doesn't make it good...

"There's an insect
In your ear
If you scratch
It won't disappear"

U2 - Staring at the Sun

I guess it was an easy rhyme?

"There were plants
And birds
And rocks
And things"

America - Horse With No Name

This is a popular choice with many people. Things?

"Coast to coast
L.A. to Chicago"

Sade - Smooth Operator

In her defense she wasn't from the States. But still...


He could throw that speed ball by you
Make you look like a fool

Bruce Springstein - Glory Days

A fastball is a pitch in baseball. A speedball....well you'd have to ask Jim Belushi. If you could.

Someone always playing corporation games

Who cares they’re always changing corporation names

We just want to dance here someone stole the stage

They call us irresponsible write us off the page

Starship - We Built This City

Picking on Starship is almost TOO easy. Fight the power, Starship!

Muskrat Susie

Muskrat Sam

Do the jitterbug out in muskrat land

And they shimmy

And Sammy's so skinny

Captain and Tennille - Muskrat Love

This song truly makes me wonder why I was so concerned about the forced rhymes my third graders were coming up with. Compared to this we were pretty much functioning on the same plane as Don McClean.

My all time favorite, though, comes from Alanis Morissette. She wrote a song titled "Ironic." Sadly, nothing in it was at all ironic. A bummer, yes. Ironic, no.

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
And isn't it ironic... don't you think

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face

A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic...don't you think
A little too ironic...and, yeah, I really do think...

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out

There are of course many, many examples of really good lyrics. Some even come from REM. However, this post is getting awfully lengthy so I'll save those for another day. In researching these lyrics I came across a story about Michael Stipe and his lyric writing. He evidently commented during a show in 1999 that people shouldn't spend their time on the internet trying to make sense of lyrics. Some songs, he said, make sense and others don't. I guess so long as they sound good in your ear that should be enough.


So that may well become my mantra as we work to finish our song. It may be pedestrian. It may be trite. But hopefully it'll sound good in our ears.


You don't need to be Superman
To make a difference in our land
You just have to know right from wrong
And trust your heart - - - stay strong

On the Appalachian Trail: Unicoi Gap, GA to Cheese Factory Site, GA

These next five posts are probably going to be a bit lengthy for most people who check in with this blog. If so, feel free to glance them over and wait for a more typical post next week.
However, I'm still posting these stories here to help preserve the memories of our hike together. Should we someday finish this hike together I think it would be cool to take all these posts and have them bound into a book to give the kids. A history of our hike. And their childhoods.




Last summer I suggested we might set out to hike the entirety of the Appalachian Trial - 2,175 mountainous miles from Springer Mountain, Georgia to Mount Katahdin, Maine. The boys quickly took me up on my offer. The girls weren't so interested; although, they did mention they'd like to do smaller bits of the trip along the way.


I quickly went about devising a plan that would allow us to finish the trail by the time the boys graduated from high school. It was gradual yet ambitious. We'd begin with 50 miles that first summer, grow to 100 within a year or two, and eventually take on 300 - 400 miles a summer once their legs grew a bit longer and their backs a tad stronger.

We did our 50 miles last year with the girls, and Mom, joining us for the final twenty. There were warm days, misguided directions, hard climbs, and a small rain storm. More than that, though, there was a lot of fun.

So this past week the boys and I set out to walk the next 32 mile stretch. This was an important leg of the trip in that we would be passing our very first state border - from Georgia to North Carolina. This would mean one state down and just thirteen more to go.

Each night we sat in our sleeping bags and wrote about our day in our journals. As with last year I'll let the boys help share our journey.


Day 1 Unicoi Gap, GA - Cheese Factory Site, GA (Miles Today: 3; Trip Miles: 3; Total AT Miles: 53)

We left the house this morning around 10:15 to make the four-and-a-half hour drive. Ainsley was sad we were leaving but trying hard not to show it. Along the way we stopped at a rest stop for sandwiches we had packed to bring along, stopped by Ingles to fill up on salad for the night, and hit the outfitter for some last minute supplies.

As always, when we neared the trail head I became lost. I didn't recognize the road we were on from last summer. I had already driven about fifteen miles down the road and feared going fifteen more only to find I was on the wrong road. So I turned around and went back to Neels Gap to get directions. Winds up I was going the right way all along. What a waste.

We arrived at the trail head about 5:15. Someone in the parking lot agreed to take our picture in our nice clean clothes and then we were finally on the trial. About five minutes up the mountain I couldn't remember if I had locked the car or not. ARGHHH. I dropped my pack and ran back down to double check. In what was quickly becoming a theme for the day...it was already locked. I should learn not to doubt myself!

Today was a quick three miles. There were a few climbs but we were fresh and excited so they came and went with little effort. Ty was exceptionally strong. He kept a good pace for us up front and was in great spriits.The sun was quickly dropping below the jagged horizon and the air was getting cool. We had wanted to make it to the old Cheese Factory site. In the mid-1800s an eccentric New Englander established a dairy near Tray Mountain, about 15 miles from the nearest farmhouse. Other settlers eventually sold their land and moved away. The cheese factory remained and evidently did pretty well. There are no remnants of the factory now. Only a story.

As we neared what we thought to be the general area of the factory we were running out of light. We found a small clearing near the top of Tray Mountain and made camp. In the morning we found out that we actually were at the old Cheese Factory Site and didn't know it.Finding out we had hiked more miles that we thought was a nice surprise.

As we sat in our tent Muluken read back through the journal entries we wrote last year as well as what each of us had written about today. Ty had the biggest grin on his face as Muluken read from his own journal "[The climb] kept going up and up but we didn't give up because our good leader Ty was strong and we only had two or three breaks I think."

"I liked the part about our 'good leader Ty'," Ty said.

"Hey man, you were a good leader," I assured him. "You were so strong today!"

(Dad, age 36)

We hiked three miles today. We said a mountain was crying. First we drove to Unicoi Gap. We turned around. We asked two men that had bikes in their truck. We went the right way the next time. Muluken said Dad should have been patient.

(Ty/Flash, age 7)

We drove to Unicoi Gap. There we got our picture from a man. We were in a gap so that told us we are going to go up. AHH! We teased the mountain on the way. Then we thought that we were up to the top. We got fooled and it was not the top. We got fooled twice. That's called stupid. We were aiming to get to the Cheese Factory. That's a cheesy name.

One thing that bothered us was the wind. When we set down it would make us freezing but when we got up it stopped. That's weird. When we had passed a road and a stream we thought the top was close but it wasn't. It kept going up and up but we didn't give up because our good leader Ty was strong and we only had two or three breaks I think. We played [games] on the way up.

(Muluken/Jolly Roger, age 9)

On the Appalachian Trail: Muskrat Creek Shelter, NC to Deep Gap, NC

Day 5 Muskrat Creek Shelter, NC - Deep Gap, NC (Miles Today: 4; Trip Miles: 32; Total AT Miles: 82)

Snow on the trail. Just two days ago it was in the 80's and I was getting a sunburn and now there's a bit of snow alongside the trail. Crazy.

When I woke up this morning I was afraid to uncover my head. I knew it was going to be frigid. Sure enough, I was right. I climbed out of my sleeping bag and told the boys to stay put until I had all my things packed and the food bags down from the trees. I didn't want them getting packed up too early and sitting around waiting for me with nothing to do but shiver. While there are far worse temperatures to deal with in the mountains than 32 degrees it's still not all that fun to stand still for too long.

Once we were packed up one of the older guys in the shelter, Snake, watched the boys walk off toward the trail and commented to me, "You've got two tough men right there to want to be out here in this."

"Yeah," I said. "They really have a great time."

The first two miles were as flat as any we've encountered on the trail. We didn't bother to remove any clothes before taking off this morning so we each hiked in three to four layers. Ty and I became hot within an hour or so and stopped to shed some layers. Muluken was content to stay bundled.

In the four miles to the gap there was only one climb. By this point in the trip it seemed pretty easy. We knew the drill - go slowly on the steepest parts, take short but frequent breaks, and take advantage of the easier pitches by picking up the pace. After the first two miles we had doubled our normal pace to 2mph. This was due in large part to the fact no one was all that tempted to stop for more than a few seconds at a time because of the cold.

As we headed down our final descent toward Deep Gap I heard Muluken up ahead calling, "It's Harper! It's Harper! IT'S THE GIRLS!!!" Harper started laughing and rushed up to meet Muluken. Happy to be reunited, everyone offered hugs or kisses. The girls took the backpacks from Ty and Muluken and carried them the rest of the way down. In the van was a cooler of cold Gatorade, grapes, and cheese. We packed up our stuff, grabbed a drink and snack for ourselves, and left the rest at the trail side for the other hikers who would be coming behind us. We were happy to repay some of the good karma that had found us days earlier.

We all drove back to a cabin we had rented near Blood Mountain in Georgia. After a shower and some lunch the six of us headed out for a four mile hike to a nearby waterfall. No pack, no boots, no jackets. It was warm and we were enjoying the sandals on our feet and the sun on our shoulders. The kids splashed around in the base of the waterfall before heading back. The following day we all hiked up Blood Mountain and enjoyed the fantastic views together.

As we packed up to go home I found a note in my suitcase that Ainsley had written me while we were gone. She started writing it right after we loaded into the car six days earlier - when she was trying so hard not to look sad. The note began, "Dear Daddy, I miss you. I hope you have a great trip. I love you." She added to the letter each day I was gone and admitted to crying a few nights. We're headed back out in June for 80 more miles. This time we're coordinating it so the girls are nearby and welcome to come out and hike as much as they'd like with us. The more the merrier.

As for our future plans, we'll get through the Smokies next year and maybe all the way up into Hot Springs. From there I realize now we'll have to start doing some serious miles. We'll probably need to get over a thousand miles in the next five or six years and then make a push to do the rest all in one or two summers. The costs and time demands of breaking our hike up over too many summers may be too great.

On the Appalachian Trail: Plumorchard Shelter, GA to Muskrat Creek Shelter, NC

Day 4 Plumorchard Shelter, GA - Muskrat Creek Shelter, NC (Miles Today: 7; Trip Miles: 28; Total AT Miles: 78)

Last night's storm was crazy. I looked up at one point and saw a big just of wind pick up the coals from the fire pit and spray them into the woods. Orange sparks flew everywhere but thankfully there was no fire. With all the rain that was falling from the black sky I don't know how there could have been. The winds howled, bending the trees back and forth as lightning filled the sky all night long. Finally the storm passed around 4 or 5 in the morning and by the time I woke up everything was calm again. I pulled my sleeping bag around my head and propped the back of my head against the back wall of the shelter so I could look out at the woods and watch the first few people get up and retrieve their things that had blown off the table during the storm.

It was cold, cold this morning. My hands were freezing as I gathered up my stuff and worked to make oatmeal for breakfast. We all headed out of camp at pretty much the same time which is a bit of an oddity. The cold morning had everyone dragging just a bit. We all said our goodbyes and hit the trail. The boys and I wore our rain gear, hats, and gloves to stay warm. After an hour of hiking we stopped to brush our teeth but still couldn't take off any of our layers. It was just so windy we couldn't completely warm up.

Around midday we came across the sign we had been waiting for. Coming into Bly Gap we had finally reached the state line. We were forever leaving the Georgia trail and entering North Carolina. This was to be the highlight of the trip and it did feel pretty great. We climbed up a rock ledge to have lunch. I sat in Georgia. Ty in North Carolina, and Muluken straddled the two. As we sat and ate three other hikers passed through and we enjoyed yelling down the trail to them that they were about to cross the state line.

North Carolina greets you with some crazy hard climbs. They aren't so much long as they are steep. It feels as though they go straight up. By this point we were pretty used to climbing so we took them in stride and enjoyed taking short breaks and laughing at the absurdity of such a steep climb.

As we neared the base of a more steady climb two older gentlemen said "There you are! We've been looking for you." I didn't recognize them and had no idea how they could know who we were. I assumed maybe they had us confused with someone else.

"We came across Zach and Alex a little earlier today and they told us to keep an eye out for you three," they explained. "They told us to tell you guys hello. So 'hello.'"

"How about that, guys?" I asked the boys. "Zach and Alex sent a hello back to us from further up the trail. That's pretty cool." They were both around my age and had kids at home. I hoped we would meet up with them at the next shelter but they wouldn't be there. They had decided to hike on further.

We reached Muskrat Creek Shelter a little before 4. It was far too early to be in camp but we were only four miles from where Tricia would be meeting us the next morning and it made no sense to sit around there all morning and freeze. So we stayed at the shelter and waited for others to come. And come they did. A new group of hikers, many of whom we had seen two nights ago at Deep Gap Shelter before their trip into town, popped up a tent in every clearing to be found. We decided to stay in the shelter again so we wouldn't have to pack up our tent in the morning. The overnight temperatures were supposed to be below freezing and I assumed the morning would be just as cold.

It wound up we didn't have to wait until nightfall for the temps to drop. By five o'clock it was bone-chilling cold. With nothing to do we sat and shivered. Bored and miserable we decided to fix an early dinner and desert, do our camp chores, and bundle up in our sleeping bags to wait until nightfall. With every layer of clothing we had on our bodies we crawled into our bags around six o'clock. We warmed up quickly and Muluken and I even decided we could brave pulling our arms out of our bags to journal. We were asleep before nightfall and each took a turn getting up in the middle of the night to water the foliage. Of the six people in the shelter only Muluken and I didn't snore (the two old snorers from last night were here as well as a younger one we hadn't met before).

(Dad, age 36)

We hiked 7 miles. We passed the state line.

(Ty/Flash, age 7)


We hiked a few miles before we passed the state line to North Carolina. Dad stayed in Georgia to finish his last lunch there and I sat in the middle so that I'd be half and half. Flash sat in the North Carolina for his first lunch there. We sat up a hill under a rock that guarded us against the wind.

After lunch we hiked up a huge and steep bunt not long mountain with the angry wind on us. We had on our rain gear to keep us warm from the wind. The weather was weird today because the sun shined and it was warm but then in a few minutes the wind would be on you. The worse way to go is flat because it has nothing to guard the wind and the top of the mountain is the worse. We said it wasn't as windy in Georgia. That 's a nice way to welcome us.

(Muluken/Jolly Roger, age 9)

On the Appalachian Trail: Deep Gap Shelter, GA to Plumorchard Shelter, GA

Day 3 Deep Gap Shelter, GA - Plumorchard Shelter, GA (Miles Today: 8; Trip Miles: 20; Total AT Miles: 70)

I didn't sleep all that great last night. Both boys woke me up a couple of times to go to the bathroom and Ty woke up crying a few times that his leg hurt. He does this from time to time at home as well. The doctor says it's growing pains and that they're more likely to occur after a lot of activity. Exactly how much activity is a lot for a seven year old?

We were the last ones out of the shelter this morning. Everyone else here last night was thru-hikers and they were anxious to hike three miles up the trail to Dick's Creek Gap. There's a truck waiting there to shuttle hikers into town at 9:30 for groceries, laundry, all-you-can-eat buffets, and a night in a hotel or hostel. We're not going into town so we weren't in any hurry.

A little into our hike we passed Margaret. Margaret is a woman in her mid to upper 50s who's hiking the trail solo. She wanted her 17 year old son to come along but he decided he didn't like to hike all that much any more. Her husband doesn't like to backpack and even went so far as to try to guilt her out of doing this five month trip. He researched the effects of prolonged separations on married couples. She assured him they wouldn't get divorced and came out to hike anyway. I would think that after thirty years of dreaming about this trip she deserves the chance.

As we passed Margaret and her gimpy knee on the trail she gave each of the boys a hug. "This'll probably be the last I see of you two," she told them. "You take good care of your dad out here."

We hiked on with Muluken going far ahead of Ty and I on the trail. As Ty and I made our way down into Dick's Creek Gap we saw Muluken sitting on the side of the road with a Gatorade in his hands.

"Where'd you get THAT?" we both yelled.

Muluken pointed across the street to an old white van parked at the trail head. "The old guy in that van gave it to me," he explained.

Generally when your kids take something from a stranger in a van you get very worried. In this case I wanted to know if I could have some too. We made our way across the road and ducked our head into the open side door in the van. The old guy inside had a long bushy white beard and didn't get around too well. He asked what flavor of Gatorade we'd like and fished them out of his cooler. As he pulled the lid open we saw he also had pudding cups and a variety of other snacks. He was spending his day passing out treats to hikers as they made their trek north. This was our second experience with "trail magic" and we again very grateful. We thanked him about five or six times and rushed over to eat our lunch near the creek. I can't say enough about the people who volunteered their time and resources to us. They were amazing.

The boys stopped to play in three different streams today. With only eight miles to hike we were in no hurry. Getting to camp early just means more down time to fill. We'd rather spend this time on the trail playing around on fallen trees or in the water. You'd think that stopping more often would make the hiking easier but it doesn't always work that way. Sometimes it slows you down to the point that you feel like you're moving at a crawl along your path. As we hiked up out of Dick's Creek our energy was lagging. The sun was high in the sky and it was getting hot. We also knew that everyone else had headed into town for the night and that we were alone again.

A few miles up from the gap we came across a sign that read "Vista." It was a side trail leading upward toward an unseen lookout. I laughed to myself for some time. Why in the hell would I possibly hike up yet another climb to see out? There were more than enough climbs already without adding another. Pretty much unless there was an ice cream shop up there we weren't veering off our course.

Our last three miles of the day were really tough. The temperatures were up into the 80s and since the trees had yet to leaf out we were exposed to the sun pretty much the entire time. The climb coming out of Coward Gap lasted well over a mile. We climbed and climbed and climbed some more. We took many breaks and lamented the fact we didn't fill up on water at the last creek. We were all just about out and there was still a ways to go before we reached camp for the night with no water sources listed between.

Finally we reached Plumorchard Gap Shelter. It was a small shelter but with three levels it slept about 14 people. We generally prefer to stay in our tent but with threats of electrical storms and perhaps even a tornado moving in we decided the shelter was our safest option. We set up our pads and sleeping bags and the boys went down to the stream to play and throw rocks down the mountainside.

The people at the shelter tonight were great. There were brothers Alex and Zach who were section hiking the trail like us. Nineteen year old Woodstock and Cool Cat were thru-hiking after Woodstock's mother drove them all the way down from Michigan and tearfully said goodbye. There was a young couple celebrating their six-month anniversary with a three-day trip on the trail. They had a mixture of borrowed, bought, and home-made gear that worried me a bit about their safety. There were also two older guys, Snake and Two Steps Back, who didn't say a whole lot but snored really, really loudly all night long. After dinner we all sat around a campfire and talked for a long while. Woodstock let Muluken borrow his headlamp so he could write in his journal as the sun disappeared over the treetops. I've come to realize that the people you meet along the trail are just as remarkable, if not more-so, than the trail itself. This bunch of guys and girls are the kind you hate to say goodbye to.

(Dad, age 36)

We hiked 8 miles today. When we hit 8 miles we came to a shelter in Plumorchard Gap.

(Ty/Flash, age 7)

We hiked up a couple of mountains and got to Cowart Gap and then we went up the highest mountain ever. It went very high and was the hardest mountain we climbed. We drank lots of water. We played in the streams on the way and had lots of fun. At first the water was freezing on our feet but we got used to it. It was good playing in the stream. It cooled down our feet a lot.

We got to Plumorchard Shelter. We got water for the crab chowder for dinner. It was very good. Then we went down for water for the hot chocolate. Very warm and good. I would like a lot more than a little bit. Then we went to the privy and went out to play. We threw rocks down the hill to see how long it will go. It was fun. Then it started to pour and we had to come up. Someone made a fire later and cooked their food. The rain was weird because it kept going on and off. We did 8 miles today. Yay.

(Muluken, age 9)

On the Appalachian Trail: Cheese Factory Site, Ga to Deep Gap Shelter, GA

Day 2 Cheese Factory Site, GA - Deep Gap Shelter, GA (Miles Today: 9; Trip Miles: 12; Total AT Miles: 62)

The winds howled throughout the mountains last night. It's kind of eerie sounding - like the black smoke from Lost. Even when you can't feel it you know it's near.

Within a few minutes of our walk this morning we passed a group of about ten tents with food bags hanging everywhere in the trees. We thought we were alone last night. Guess not. I stopped to talk to one of the guys. He was college-aged and wearing camouflaged leggings under his brown shorts. In town this would look ridiculous but pretty much anything goes on the trail when it's cold. We found out that he's a thru-hiker (someone planning to hike the entire trail this season). No one else in his group was up yet and we moved on.

Within an hour or so we walked into Tray Gap and came upon a truck with a large trailer behind it. There was a large tent set-up with stoves and grills. Someone called from the tent, "You guys want an apple?" We walked over and a middle-aged man offered us each an apple and a small chocolate bar.

"I've got a scout group out here cooking breakfast for the thru-hikers," he explained. They were cooking eggs, sausage, pancakes, and more. Hikers refer to acts of kindness such as this as trail magic. It's amazing. It was a great way to start our day - knowing all these people had come out help everyone along on their journey. We happily ate our apples on the way up the next mountain.

Ty was strong throughout the day today. There were a number of good hard climbs. Each of the boys are carrying about 13- 14 pounds in their packs and I have somewhere in the low to mid 30s. We could feel this in our shoulders but not too bad. There weren't any complaints. Our last climb of the day was out of Addis Gap. The climb had us gaining 900 feet of elevation in a mile as we made our way up toward Kelly Knob. The climb just felt like it went on forever. After finally summitting we made our way down the other side and into Deep Gap shelter.

There were a lot of thru-hikers staying here for the night with trail names like Baby Ruth, Trolley Stop, and Mountain Goat. We set up our tent, made chili for dinner and banana pudding for desert, and did our dishes. Doing all this for three people means a lot of runs for water. I've been amazed how easy access to water has been. In most cases trail maintainers have placed pipes to help direct the water right into our bottles. This is much easier than trying to scoop from a shallow stream. One problem concerning water: Our purifier went dead. The batteries are shot and I accidentally brought only one new one. This means we'll not be purifying the water here on out. I hope we don't get sick! There are people who hike the entire trail without treating their water so we'll probably be fine. If not we'll be visiting the woods a whole, whole lot over the next few days.

(Dad, age 36)

We had Pop-Tarts for breakfast. We hiked 9 miles today. There was a high mountain. I stopped 6 or 7 times on the mountain.

(Ty/Flash, age 7)

For the record, I'm leaning against a tree - NOT POSING!

We hiked a huge mountain. It probably was bigger and longer than Tray Mountain. It took us a long time to finish. We played "I'm thinking of a number" and still got bored and stopped. We had chili with our new cups and banana pudding for desert. It was fabulous. I cleaned my cup and I ate the rest of Ty's chili. I was filled then so that I couldn't have another helping of pudding.

We went up the trail a couple of times to get water but once we went up there the thing that cleans the water was dead. We had to ask a woman we saw a couple of times on the trail if she could clean the water for us. She did and we went down to tell Dad. He only had one battery but it was supposed to hold two. Dad called himself a dummy and we have learned a lesson.

(Muluken/Jolly Roger, age 9)