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| All in about 27 hours. |
I've come to the conclusion that, in contrast to the difficult and regimented lifestyle of a household with two toddlers, time away from the kids is blissful no matter what. As long as it's not more than a day and a half. And as long as we can call a few times to see how they're doing. To be entirely truthful, after about 30 minutes we start to miss the kids. No matter, we trudge on and can enjoy nearly any activity in any conditions, as long as we're confident we'll return safely.
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| We've got it covered |
When we leave the kids to get out, we should probably relax. But we don't, and it seems that instead we try to pack in as much as possible. Thus, over a period of 36 hours this past weekend, Molly and I embarked on four short adventures in celebration of our 3rd wedding anniversary. It went like this: (1) Grumman the Cassleman River from Rockwood, Pa to Markleton, PA, (2) hike for a few hours on an out-and-back round trip on the Laurel Highlands Trail from Ohiopyle, PA, (3) bushwhack through the woods from Trap Run Road for half a day into the Upper Yough, and (4) hike all over the Bear Run Nature Preserve in an attempt to take a
short 1/2 mile stroll to a vista that we'd seen marked on the worst trail map I've ever used. Between the second and third we bunked at our favorite Inn in the area, the place we stayed in June 2008 on the eve of our engagement.
Perhaps the best part of any adventure that includes an aluminum canoe is the opportunity to use the word
Grumman as a verb. (We
Grummanned the shit out the Casselman.)
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| Again? Really? |
The triumphs of each segment were countered with travesties. The water level on the Casselman was perfect and the skies cleared up for us, but the sign at the put-in warned us of combined sewage overflow (an issue that seems to plague me wherever I go). We aced all the whitewater, some of which had us gripped, then we spilled and both swam after smacking a small boulder when our guard was down in the riffles. I watched my paddle float away after the spill but gave my best war whoop when we found it downstream, swirling in a big eddy at the take out. And that was just segment (1).
By the end of our adventure, we had added about 200 miles to the odometer, a dozen or more miles to our boots, and we'd
Grummanned 7.5 miles of scenic river. We ate lunch in a downpour while standing under a canoe. I ate too much organic homemade food. We hitched a shuttle ride in an old, beat up van. Then, as the weekend drew to a close, I watched the mountains in my rear view and zoned out driving. Reflecting on the paddling, the hiking, and bushwhacking, we realized that it was the chance to actually talk to each other, uninterrupted by child care duties, that made the weekend what it was.
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| Custom! Matching! Cute! |
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Really, we spent the weekend talking. We talked about life and work, about the future and the past. We talked about old friends missed. We talked about Differential Equations (no kidding). We decided that there's no better way to get chest deep into a conversation than by getting chest deep into the weeds on a forgotten logging road meandering through the forest.
As we got closer to home, we talked about how much we missed the kids, and how we can't wait for them to be able to join us on adventures, and then we chatted about what our next adventure would be.
Git r dun.
