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Birthday Special: Rural Road Trip
My mother in law (who is likely reading this) just had a birthday. This year she insisted on taking all of her children and spouses out for fried chicken. In her world (and mine) family is everything.
On her ninetieth birthday, all she wanted was a trip to a beautiful nearby state park with her children. But it was winter and she was battling cancer….again. So the trip was deferred until summer. Just months after successful surgery, we piled in the car and headed to the woods.
Our first stop was a pie shop where I have had a lovely lunch in the past. On this day we encountered a man who told us he didn’t have lunch available(even though it was clearly on the menu), only pie.
He answered the phone in the middle of our order and berated the caller while we stood awkwardly trying to figure out what to do. I decided to buy pie to go (my love for pie overcame my distaste of the owner’s surly demeanor). Surprisingly, the grouchy shop keeper gave the birthday girl a free slice of pie, so the stop wasn’t a total waste of time. The second stop at McDonald’s wasn’t the quality lunch I was hoping for, but their ice cream went pretty well with a slice of pie.
The roads in rural Missouri are often winding, hilly, and narrow. I grew up in this country so “roller coaster roads” are nothing new. They can be a bit jarring for those who aren’t used to them. After a few hours, arrival at Echo Bluff State Park was a relief. However, even the park roads are steep and winding.
The park is home to a herd of wild horses that roam the river banks. They greeted us along the road in a birthday surprise welcome. It was a rare treat, to see them so close to the road, especially in the middle of an afternoon.
Getting in to our cabin was an adventure. We had the top floors of a duplex condo. Navigating two long flights of stairs with suitcases and coolers of food in tow was a bit of a challenge. Nine people brought food and gear that took multiple trips up and down the stairs and the had to be distributed among three bedrooms and a small kitchen.
After a fun shuffle, three families landed upstairs and two down. We laughed because the only bathroom upstairs was inside our bedroom. A bed was on the landing outside our door, and we set up an airbed in the tiny square of unoccupied space near the stairs. I felt like I was participating in a middle school sleep over …in all the best ways. Shenanigans were definitely on the horizon.
After everyone settled, I packed a snackle box full of fruit and nuts and candy and we headed to sinking creek. Lawn chairs and floating chairs circled up in the cool clear water. At 90, my mother in law was introduced to the “Ozark afternoon”. A beautiful and lazy day of doing nothing but sitting in a river. It was lovely and relaxing.
Afterwards, I made Italian style pizza. The small kitchen turned into a pizza factory as I tossed dough and slathered olive oil and toppings on every available surface.
Relaxed and stuffed. We settled in for a cozy evening.
As an early riser, I got out for an early morning walk and managed to find the horses roaming along the riverbank near the cabin. They were beautiful and almost ghostly in the morning mist.
By the time I returned, the kitchen was buzzing with bacon and biscuits. In preparation for the trip, we bought thick slab bacon in a variety of flavors from Swiss meats (a mid Missouri treasure). I love it when my husband makes bacon breakfast. Hot biscuits make me smile.
Afterwards, the birthday girl wanted to visit Alley Spring. It is home to a grist mill, a mill pond with some of the greenest water you can imagine and a natural spring pumping thousands of gallons of water into the streams.
It was hot. So hot, that I really didn’t want to explore the 1800’s era mill (I have been here many times). So I left the group and took a brief hike around the mill pond. It is about a half mile loop. When I got back, my amazing mother in law had started the loop.
She wanted to hike on her birthday. At 90, she fought the heat, navigated the rocks, and enjoyed the beauty of nature. Her reward was standing in a swarm of butterflies attracted to the milkweed along the side of the trail. I will remember the power of the moment. Hundreds of beautiful butterflies. Purple flowers (purple is her favorite color). And a community of family holding hands as we navigated the rough terrain. What a powerful metaphor of the sweetness of life.
Life moments are not always convenient, Things don’t always happen at the time you wanted. Sometimes life seems unbearably hot or cold…or just generally uncomfortable. It can feel inconvenient to have to pack and plan; perhaps easier to avoid the effort. Sometime the path comes with hills and valleys and boulders. But with family, a little rest, good food, and laughter… life is magical….and in those rare moments it takes your breath away.
So as I sit here, thinking about a simple chicken dinner and family adventures in the Missouri woods…I am grateful. Thank you birthday girl for still making magic. 90’s look good on you.
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The Canyon Remembered: Rural Road Trip
We are standing in Palo Duro Canyon. A roadrunner follows us around the parking lot. He assumes an assertive stance on the red dirt hill just off the sidewalk and challenges us to follow along the trail to the river. Of course I tag along. He is cute and I love to hike. It is only logical choice.
As we were driving here, I couldn’t comprehend how there could be a canyon ahead. The land is completely flat on approach. Nothing in sight. We literally didn’t see the canyon until we pulled into the parking lot of the visitor center. It looked as if we were just going down a small ramp and then wow! The view opened up and we were standing on the edge of a massive gorge. Such is the magic of Palo Duro canyon system, second only to the Grand Canyon. It is big, hidden, and has a rich history that captures imaginations.
I am reminded of this fact by an 85 year old man we meet as he drives his rv through the gorge. He asks if I will take his picture because he travels the canyon alone. He says he loves Westerns. Since reading about the canyon in Lonesome Dove, he felt he needed to come for himself. His wife wouldn’t come, but he is taking her back jewelry. I suggest turquoise or silver. We chat for a while as fellow travelers do as we looked deep into the canyon.
I am glad we are in our truck and not the rv as we make the steep descent into the canyon. I can’t help but wonder how our friend is doing in his old rv. But now that we are parked, the road runner calls. The visitor center looks far, far away. Our friend is on his own and I am here to hike.
I watch for snakes as we walk the dirt trail toward the river. There are a variety of birds, but the scenery is not appealing. We drive on. All hikes are good, but not all are inspiring.
Not too far down the road is a park store. Souvenirs, hats, sunscreen, and life saving water are readily available. They also sell a great burger and ice cream. So we have a relaxing lunch, buy a gallon of water (because signs everywhere warn to have a gallon with you), and talk with other tourists.
I am determined to hike the lighthouse trail. The parking lot is filled with signs talking about dangerous conditions, snakes, heat stroke, and trail hazards. Not exactly a glowing welcome, but I suppose forewarning is a good thing. A quarter mile in and the signs tell us how many people die annually on the trail. We are warned emergency services may not be available. There is a first aid station visible at the far end of the parking lot. It is closed.
The trail is not rugged or scary in any way. It is a beautiful fall day in beautiful country. I see none of the hazards that we were warned of and none of the hazards I navigate on a forest hike. But it is late fall. The temperature is warm, not hot. Even so the sun beats down unrelentingly. There is little to no shade. In summer, it must be brutal. Today it is pleasantly warm.
I feel like I am in a movie as the canyon opens itself to us. There are not many other people on the trail and we walk alone for long stretches. I can’t help feel like I am ancient and moving through unspoiled earth. Each cave and crevice reminds me of the natives who made this home.
I think about the fact that for 10,000 years the canyon was inhabited by natives. In the 1870’s the U.S. military chased and killed the Indians who lived here as part of the “Indian Wars”. Within two years, wealthy men (cattle baron Charles Good Night and the infamous Black Jack Adair) had turned this land into a cattle ranch. Men who made fortunes upon the misfortunes others (in Ireland, England, and the U.S.), unsurprisingly made even more money by supplying the army (who helped them make this venture possible) with beef.
But the day is too beautiful to dwell on the deeds of ruthless men. Instead we walk on and enjoy the sunshine and the breeze. There is magic in the canyon. Texas did well to protect this land. And we are privileged to be in this moment drinking it in.
After our hike, we drive the remaining park road past rocks, streams, and canyon walls. The past seems close. Beauty and struggle. Heat that kills and also that gives life. Strangers who share food, hospitality and interests. Mistakes and malice cost lives. Signs point to some of the dangers past and present, much is unspoken. Mistakes and malice cost lives. T-shirts and mugs celebrate a culture destroyed. Mistakes and malice cost lives. It is a big, wonderful, beautiful, dangerous land. I’m glad we came. It is good to experience and remember.
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Iconic Texas: Rural Road Trips
Rolling down highway 40, our big rig pulls into Amarillo Texas in late afternoon. After miles of rough road and cross winds, the rv park is a welcome relief. We quickly set camp and take a walk around the park. Like most RV parks along the interstates, this on is tightly packed and full of people just passing through.
We sit by a small fountain in the park for a brief rest from the road and to check email. Five hours on the interstate is long enough, especially when we are towing. So sitting outside, even in this crowded park, is a welcome respite. But soon I am restless. I haven’t been feeling that well and I am still a little keyed up from the road.
I noticed that we are just a few miles from the Cadillac Ranch. We have driven by on other trips West, but have never stopped. I have never thought looking at spray painted cars that are stuck in the dirt was a great detour. But we have a few hours to kill and we need to go get dinner. Why not see what it is all about? I will likely never be any closer.
We park on the shoulder of what was probably the original stretch of Route 66. There is a small gate with a passable path. We walk down a dirt road and see a trailer selling spray paint and souvenirs. There is a steady stream of people walking to and from the cars in the distance and several in line making purchases. Must be big business if there is merch.
As we approach, a man hands me a can of spray paint and tells me to have fun. I look confused so he says with a smile, “I have two teenagers and they aren’t allowed to take it home.” I smile back (one knowing parent to another) and thank him for his thoughtfulness.
Armed with lime green paint, we spray away. First our initials make it onto a fender. Then we move on to messages written for photographic purposes. Then my husband writes a few secretly coded thoughts, and on it goes until we are out of paint.
The wind is unrelenting and the sun is setting. But we are laughing and taking selfies like a pair of unruly teenagers. I get the appeal suddenly. It is cathartic and fun to paint on cars. Who knew I would take up tagging as a retirement hobby? (Okay, this the first and likely last time). But you are never too old to try new things.
With the setting sun, we head to Amarillo’s famous landmark, the Big Texan. Along the way, we pass the 2nd amendment cowboy tipping his hat to the passersby. I wish I knew why Texans have to put the name of their state on virtually everything. It is not likely that we will forget we are in Texas. If it doesn’t say Texas, it likely has the Texas flag pasted on it.
The Big Texan Steakhouse is crawling with people. The sprawling complex has a restaurant, a gift shop, a candy shop, and any number of side rooms. We get a table in the main room where we can see the stage. For $99.00 you get the privilege of trying to eat a 64oz steak and all the fixings. After they seat you on the stage, they start a timer. If you can eat it all in one hour, your meal is free. If not you have had an experience.
A man is doing his best to win his free steak. Meanwhile a strolling Texas swing band is roaming the restaurant and filling the chaos with lovely music. I see a child get his meal served in a cowboy hat and think about the last time we were here. Our adult son was four. I smile as I remember his smiling face and how he wore that hat all over the southwest with a sheriff’s badge pinned to his shirt.
I am content. At least I think I am until the food comes, and suddenly I feel incredibly anxious. I can’t eat. I just want to be away from the crowds. This travel day is confusing. On the road, I can’t wait to stop. Parked at the rv, I want to go explore. I visit a tourist trap I don’t really want to visit, but with spray paint in hand I want to stay longer. I find a fun restaurant with live music which I normally love, and I can’t wait to leave.
Oh well, feelings come and go. My chauffeur and travel partner, thankfully is with me for the long haul and is used to my shenanigans. He calmly eats his steak and asks what I want to do next. After a day of iconic Texas, I am ready for a hot shower and then bed.
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Claremore At Last: Rural Road Trip Oklahoma
Our first day on the road in our new rv has come to an end, and I should be excited. But, it has been a stressful day as we were getting used to driving our “big rig”. We have lots of little issues that have cropped up in the rv (hopeful all minor and under warranty). There are a lot of parts to test out in a house on wheels. I understand this is normal, but I really don’t have the mental energy to deal with them tonight. I also am not feeling well.
So I try to enjoy the setting sun and make the best of it. We find a fun restaurant (the Main Street tavern) where I order a lovely plate of fish and chips. They are quite tasty, but I don’t have much of an appetite.
Full disclosure, I have high functioning anxiety. Normally I am simply a bundle of energy and manage it with a smile. Tonight I am depleted. So after my husband finishes his food, we don’t linger.
I ask to drive by the Will Rogers museum. I was there as a small child with my parents and grandparents. It is closed, but we are able to park and walk to the gravesite. I am overwhelmed with the memory of being here before. It looks the same, but weirdly smaller. Why are all things are somehow bigger in a child’s memory? As I reminisce, I can feel the love of my family and almost hear my grandparents’ laughter.
It has rained and the air is fresh and clean. This is the right place to be at the end of a long day. I take deep breathes to reset my nervous system and remind myself that I am a prisoner of hope. The feelings of anxiety are just surges of cortisol and adrenaline. I am more. I am loved. I am blessed. Besides, my handsome husband is waiting just down the sidewalk for me. I am content, despite my jagged nervous system.
Back at the rv, the birds are singing. We take a walk. Everything is working properly inside the rig. Through the kindness of strangers and the grace of God our minor first day mishaps are behind us. We find our recliners and log on to Netflix. I love our life of adventure…..even if new things are sometimes overwhelming.
Sometimes friends comment they could never travel because they would be too afraid. I hope they read this post. I think it is important to acknowledge that we all feel overwhelmed sometimes. We all can be uncomfortable when we are pushed outside our comfort zone. Occasionally we don’t feel well and we are irritable without knowing why. And sometimes our body responds in powerful ways to imagery threats.
Travel days are almost always anxiety inducing for me. I know that I will have reactions that increase in intensity based on the level of novelty and perceived control. Environments that are extremely new and different and/or environments where I feel like I don’t know what to do or have no ability to affect the outcome are sure fire anxiety time bombs. I refuse to be crippled by it. Don’t let that stop you either. Life is too short. Feel all the feels….and then get out there and live your dreams. I can assure, it is worth it.
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Pompeii: Tragedy on Tour: Rural Road Trip
When I have time between grown up responsibilities, I like to make my own fun. This often involves random searches for “things to do near me” or “things happening this weekend”. Today google suggested that we could check out the Pompeii exhibit at the St. Louis Science Center.
We hadn’t been there in several years and we had the time. So, we decided to give it a try. We bought our tickets online and headed to the city. Parking was no fun and expensive. I should remember to park near the Planterium building in Forest Park (where parking is free) if I come again.
Apparently a lot of people bring their children to the museum on a random weekday in July. It was packed with children of all ages. (Did I mention that all museums in Forest Park and the Zoo are free of charge?) It is a very family friendly city. So, I will not complain about paid parking or the small fee for the special exhibit. St. Louis is a tourist’s dream with hidden gems throughout the city. We have been enjoying the attractions for over fifty years and are almost glad it is a well kept secret.
After a brief walk in the excellent outdoor garden area (our first encounter), it was time to enter the Pompeii exhibit. It did not disappoint. Having toured many museums in Italy, I had low expectations. I was wrong.
There were frescoes and statues. Everyday objects that were hard to reconcile with their actual age. How can glass that delicate be 1,000s of years old? I couldn’t wrap my head around the objects that looked so normal. Cooking tools reminded me that the tragedy of Pompeii was a story of everyday people caught off guard by nature.
Because my husband and I once were history teachers, we are drawn to artifacts. If we can see something in real life that we’ve only read about, it is a small victory. If I see something that we still use today, I feel on instant connection. The cast iron skillets made reminded of home. It was a link to the past I could connect with on a personal level. History is like that … distant, yet ever within reach.
The villas of the wealthy must have been fantastically excessive. The tiled furniture, paintings, and decor were skillfully done. We like to pretend that we are so much more civilized, but artifacts show a slice of comfortable sophistication. We linger as we wait to enter a room that requires a timed entry.
Inside was a film of the eruption of the volcano. We learned of Pompeii and Herculaneum and the terrible destruction. I walked quickly past the molds that were cast of human remains in the ashes. I am not macabre, and I am repulsed by tourism of human suffering. While these were not actual skeletons, the dead should be left some dignity. I declined to linger. People laughing and taking pictures of children huddled in death poses did not appeal.
As we prepared to leave, I had to admit that I was shocked by the quality of the exhibit. It was small, but mighty. Kudos to the curators of the traveling exhibit. It had great artifacts, authentic interpretations, and excellent presentation. They did a great job of down playing the sensational and uplifting the daily life of those unfortunate townspeople.
If you are ever wondering what to do on a day that’s too hot (or too cold), google “things to do near me”. You might discover a little road trip adventure that broadens your horizons. Just don’t forget to take enough money for parking….prices have gone up. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
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Roses in Bloom: Travel Goals California
This week, I am in beautiful San Jose, California. My lodging is in the rose garden district, so named because of a beautiful public rose garden. I get a warm, happy feeling when I encounter intentional, beautiful public gardens. It is a signal that the community I am visiting values quality of life for its citizens.
I don’t know who maintains the space, but it is evident that it is well used and well loved. People of all ages are enjoying the garden. College students lay on blankets in the grassy areas. Older people exercise. Groups of middle aged friends picnic with a glass of wine. A diverse group of individuals are walking, lounging, talking and enjoying the afternoon sun.
I walk the rows and admire the many variations of roses. All are carefully labeled. Many are in bloom. My admiration for the space grows. It is centered in the beauty of diversity. Many varieties of roses make the garden magical. Likewise, the very diverse group of humans all enjoying the sunshine is a beautiful sight in this land that can seem so divided.
Cities that understand the value of public spaces enhance the quality of life of its citizens. Individuals that regularly use outdoor spaces enhance the safety and viability of the parks. And that symbiosis is a wonderful dynamic for a thriving community. I try to push away the deep thoughts of city planning, public policy, and identity politics.
The sun is shining. The birds are singing. Flowers are blooming. People are smiling. My work is done and it is time for the pure joy of exploration of a new neighborhood.
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Egypt in Cali: Travel Goals California
When I travel for work, I like to squeeze in as many experiences as possible. Hey, I am here and I am technically retired. I might as well get a little adventure after consulting hours are over. This week I am in San Jose. A simple google search tells me that I am minutes away from the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum. According to the internet, it is the largest Egyptian collection on display in the U.S.. Who knew?
I have to explore, because this former history teacher retired from schools, but graduated to life experiences. A fifteen dollar fee grants me access to over 4,000 artifacts, a tour through a replica tomb and an interactive exhibit on alchemy. What a bargain!
There are mummies of people, pets, and sacrifices. Aphis bulls, cats, birds are all represented. There are idols and statues. Calendars and accounting tools in endless display cases. I wander through the trappings of religious and government power.
As always, when I encounter ancient artifact I realize that things have changed and yet things remain the same. I am very interested in the translations of tablets where the voices of everyday people make familiar complaints that would not be out of place in the modern world. Teenagers are recognizable in any language and era.
Other galleries feature furniture, clothing, jewelry, and cosmetics. I am reminded that “there is nothing new under the sun.” I leave thankful that I have a soft pillow instead of a wooden headrest. I am especially thankful that modern clothing is not transparent and that I am not expected to drape myself in heavy wigs and headbands. I do however see a few rings that I would happily add to my collection.
I watch families enjoying the galleries and think how important history is. A museum allows a form of time travel. The past is not quite as distant and cultures seem more similar with exposure to artifacts and translated text.
As I step out of the museum, I smile at the beautiful garden. I am thankful that stumbled onto this hidden treasure. Unexpected delights, tucked unobtrusively in an otherwise residential neighborhood. It always pays to be curious about the places you visit. Egypt in Cali…..who knew?
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Heading Home
It is a strange sensation when you have lived in a temporary home for awhile and it is time to leave. Our retirement plans include seeing the world, one rental house at a time. For this month, we have made our residence near the border of Ireland and Northern Ireland. It is a no man’s land where borders are more of a suggestion. A land that has had its fill of the troubles.
Our little farmhouse and its owner have seen firsthand the horrors that can be inflicted one neighbor to another. The past isn’t mentioned or is whisked away with a hand and an Irish smile. The wounds are deep, but they are swallowed by the beauty of the land and the pride of place and the fierce love of family.
While I love every inch of Ireland, this trip has been less about vacationing and more about discovery of what it means to be Irish. And so, I rise early and sip my Bewley’s and nibble my last bits of homemade Banoffee pie purchased from the local church bake sale. I go outside to the porch and I let the morning damp make my hair even more untamed. I feel the chill of the sunrise as I wait for the sun to appear over the mountain.
The sheep visit for one last goodbye and even the cows come down to the gate. An Irish send off of the highest order, as if even the livestock sense our parting. I grieve their loss even before we leave.
It is bittersweet, the leaving. I have come to love this place and its slower rhythm. It is always good to be home, but the USA is in turmoil right now. It has been nice to be somewhere that has seen trouble and still manages to laugh and sing. Family is the tonic that is a constant thread; here and there. Ireland’s lessons continue to resonate.
It is a long drive to Shannon. Along the way we stop at the national farming museum. I am reminded that people have always use their wits to get on with their lives. No longer any wood? Burn peat. An over abundance of straw? Make furniture. Line your shoes with cardboard. Make clothes from cast off fabric. I come from sturdy stock who face life’s challenges head on. Character forged in famine and strife. It resonates.
We settle into the hotel at the Shannon airport and prepare for an early morning departure. I am technically going home, but why do I feel like I am leaving home? From the first day I set foot in Ireland long ago, I felt a sense of belonging. Each time I leave, I feel a sense of loss.
I am heading home to the USA and I am unsure when I will return to the Emerald Isle. But when I wake up on a Spring morning, and smell a light rain on the grass I will close my eyes. And in my memory, I will hear the gentle bleating of sheep and the sound of the wind in the meadow. I will revisit the many colors of the mountain as the clouds pass overhead and maybe just maybe, when I open my eyes I’ll find a rainbow.
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Ceide Fields: Travel Goals Ireland
Once in awhile, I find myself in a place that feels timeless. I could be anywhere at all. Time stands still between the Earth and sky. At Ceide Fields near Glenurla, County Mayo, it is easy to forget modernity in favor of a simpler life.
It is cold and the wind coming off the Irish Sea bites into my cheeks. My hair whips up into my eyes. Endless fields of bog and grass dance in the breeze.
A boardwalk lets me explore fields that were farmed for millennia without even getting my feet wet. Stone walls that were literally built in the Stone Age peak out from under layers of dirt. If I look beyond the path and across the years, I imagine families here. Men and women working the land to survive and children playing. Livestock in circular pens. Smoke from dozens of small fires.
Maybe it is my imagination. Maybe it is Ireland. Today I feel timeless. The centuries are but wind. There is only the sea and the land. Time has no meaning under a sky this blue. Ceide fields has taken me in.
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Hike On: Travel Goals Ireland
When the kids said they wanted to go to Ireland to hike, we gladly rented a farmhouse. I picked a part of the country known for iconic hikes. We went earlier and spent a few weeks exploring counties Donegal, Mayo, Leitrim, and Fermanagh. It is beautiful country with miles of walking and hiking trails.
We deliberately waited to take some of the hikes that were highly regarded or looked most interesting to do with my daughter and son in law. Among the dozen reserved for a family hike was the Devils Chimney hike. It promised waterfalls and brilliant views over Glencar.
First we stopped at Glencar Lake and did the easy waterfall walk. It was beautiful scenery on a beautiful morning. After a long wait for coffee at the local cafe, we headed up the mountain. For days I had been eyeing the waterfall on the side of the mountain from the highway. We headed up the trail for a more intimate look.
There were donkeys and roosters along the trail. At some point the roosters blocked the trail and demanded we follow at their waddling pace. The donkeys were completely disinterested. We climbed on, gaining elevation.
At some point, my husband said “we won’t see a waterfall, the creek bed looks dry”. I couldn’t comprehend how a waterfall I had watched for days could just disappear. But was we topped the trail to the lookout…..no waterfall. To add insult to injury, it started to rain.
There were beautiful views of the lake and an old growth “fairy forest”. We found shamrocks and moss covered trees. Giant ferns lined the path, but I was stunned that I came to see a waterfall that had vanished over night. We made it to the car damp but undaunted.
The day was young. Two trails in and we decided to try another. So we headed around Lough Gill to Slishwood Forest. This is Yeats country. I think of his verse as we drive around the lake and park. It stays with me as we hike around the lake.
“I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
I understand how this country could get inside your soul and cause a longing to just linger here indefinitely. But my hiking buddies are feeling quite as poetic and it is long past lunch time.
I distribute some easy peelers (tangerines) and Tayto crisps to hold us over. We hike the boardwalk section to another stunning lake view before heading back over the mountain.
My people are getting hangry. I just want to hike on….and on some more. I love this land. I love the forest smell and the way the lights floats through the trees. I love the crunch of pine needles under my feet and the bird song.
Hike onward. But it will need to be another day. My crew needs food and Sligo calls. A local foodie hangout wins our business. There is a view of the river from the window and branches hang overhead as indoor decorations. While we eat amazing food and relive our adventures, I am dreaming of our next hike…. It can’t be helped. I hope I always want to hike on.
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Prisoner of Hopes 