Climbing Crabtree Falls

I climbed to the top of Crabtree Falls yesterday.  It was a perfect day offering up crisp Indian summer temperatures.  In all honesty, I didn’t climb to the top…I clawed and crawled my way upward to the summit. 

This outing had been suggested by several “in the know” adventurous folks who touted the beauty of the falls and urged us to go for it.  So venture forth we did. 

Sunday afternoons have long been established as an outing day.   We took off from Farmville with little in mind other than to find the trail; hike it and then top off the day raising a glass at The Devil’s Backbone Brew Pub.  What…four, maybe five hours, max?

We lost the navigation signal two hours into the trip as the road fell away and we climbed into the Blue Ridge.  But even sans signal, not long after we crossed the Appalachian Trail, we pulled into the parking lot at the base of the trail.  After wolfing down our picnic lunch, we meandered over to the trail map and discovered it was a mere 1.7 miles to the top.  Piece of cake. 

Crabtree Falls is the highest waterfall east of the Mississippi.  The first overlook of the falls is just a few hundred feet from the parking lot and is handy for even the faint of heart hikers to view.  Several other sightings of the cascading water are scattered along the trail, but only the most adventurous (as the guide book calls us) make it to the top.

I was feeling rather fit and right spunky as I forged ahead…onward and upward.  The trail was well traveled yesterday and often we had to squeeze to the side to allow someone to pass us…going up, as well as coming down.  As we climbed higher and the path grew steeper, my cocky confidence waivered.  I began to really pay attention to my fellow hikers.  There was indeed a lot of diversity.  Surely I can do this if the Vertically Challenged lady in the pink high heel flip flops can!  Right?  And there were people with babies strapped to their backs.  And folks handling dogs…on leashes.  I mean, “What are these people thinking,” I thought to myself?  I certainly could not voice that sentiment out loud (to George) because I couldn’t talk at all.  “Just put one foot in front of the other and pray we get to the top soon."  That was my mantra. 

The climb took us two hours.  Two hours!  I can walk 1.7 miles in about 24 minutes on the treadmill.  What’s with that?

Was it worth the climb?  Damn right.  It was a beautiful panorama vista; a meadow vista the guide book calls it.  I call it tops of trees. 

But it wasn’t about the view at all.  It was all about me.  Yep, I was feeling pretty good about myself at that point.  I had made it.

Everyone claimed it was much easier heading down the mountain and I agree.  I have to say; however, that taking teeny-tiny steps while bracing yourself to keep your footing is hard on the knees.  We made the descent in half the time and limped to the porta-potties.

Ready to put Crabtree Falls behind us, we set off to find Devil’s Backbone Brewery with one thought in mind….an ice cold draft.  It was quite close by, only 13 miles, but we headed in the wrong direction and had to make a few detours before we took our spot at the bar.  The brew and food did not disappoint.  You can indulge with sweet abandon when you rationalize how well deserving you are!

It was a sweet afternoon that left me with sore muscles and much to ponder. I’m checking that one off my bucket list.

 

 

 

Touching Base

      

I talked with all three of my children yesterday.  That may not seem like a sentiment worth mentioning, but I find it fairly remarkable.  My children are grown and live scattered about.  One lives in our hometown of Elizabeth City, NC.  One lives 3,000 miles away on the west coast.  And one lives in our state capitol, Raleigh, NC.  I live in Farmville, VA.

With the dawn of cell phones, email and social media, staying “in touch” is easier than ever.  Friends text to connect all day long, often interrupting work or sleep or just about anything one finds themselves doing while toting a phone.  I’ve seen people who should know better, crossing a five street intersection while texting.  And, we’ve all encountered the distracted motorist looking into his or her lap while waiting for an already green light to turn green.  Or, worse still, careening down four lanes astride the middle line. These days you can “reach out and touch someone” as fast as your fingers can move.

I remember when I left home for college in 1968.  My parents suggested that I call home on Sunday evenings – only.  Using long distance more than once a week would have been considered too indulgent.  Like most girls’ colleges of that era, there was one pay phone on the hall.  There were no pre-paid phone cards.  You either had a roll of dimes or you called “collect” through the operator.  I always called collect. 

It was a time I looked forward to…a chance to share my week and find out about things at home.  Just hearing my mom or dad’s voice over the line often put a lump in my throat and tears weren’t far behind.  There’s an intimacy that comes with talking on the telephone.  It’s a precious familiarity of speaking in hushed tones and hearing laughter and noticing pauses in conversation.

We all can recall those special phone calls…the ones that change your life for better or worse.  The good news of a new grandchild, or the relief that she’s (he’s) home safely, or the test results were negative.  All too often however, the phone is a channel for bad news.

During the days before telephones were common at Nags Head, we used to occasionally receive word from the grocery store up the road that they had a phone message for us.  I learned that my x-ray had indeed indicated that my foot was broken, and I must travel back to Elizabeth City to have it casted….for a month, in mid-summer.   And far worse, my mother learned of a dear friend’s fatal accident.

 There have been times when I dreaded answering the phone.   Seems there is no good news at 3 AM.  But regardless of what the call might reveal, I always answer.  We now have the marvelous benefit of caller ID and can anticipate before the “hello” whose voice we’ll hear.  Lately the news is all good.  I feel blessed, and oh - so lucky.

Kate, the youngest, called first thing yesterday morning (as she always does before leaving for work.  She was walking her new puppy and just checking in.  She likes to hear my voice just as I like to hear hers.  You can tell at lot by listening closely.  All is well in Raleigh she reported.   Son John (middle child) called about 5:00 (2:00 Pacific time) as he was riding his bike home from work.  He’s working as a prep chef in a restaurant these days and loving life.  He’s doing a fair amount of surfing on his day off.  Santa Barbara is hard not to like.  He was just touching base I imagine because he knows how much it means to me.  Then low and behold, Jenny (senior child) called me to talk about her day.  She unfolded her day for me as I fried fish (yeah, fried!) for dinner.  Just reaching out.  It was nice.

 

There’s a feeling of completeness after I’ve spoken with all of my children.  I can visualize them in their lives, doing what they’re doing and I know that for now, this day and moment, all is well and right in my world.