Dear Spencer and Dylan,

At some unpredictable moment in the future life will kick you in the gut. It will do so in a way that will be so shocking and with such force that it will literally knock the air out of you.

An irony of parenting is that I cannot stop this from happening. In fact, I may even see it coming but you won’t heed my warnings. Of course, as life often likes to do it may take us both by surprise.   

I know you hate when I do this, forecast your future. You see my cautions as control, an enforcement of my fears. Perhaps, that is true. You see before you were you, there was only the possibility of you. A loose thread of an idea between your father and I that perhaps this love we shared could grow. An idea that once it took hold ensured that any contentment with an existence that didn’t include you would be impossible. How happy we were when the possibility of you became a reality so quickly, but then almost as quickly that reality changed. Three possibilities came and went. Doctors followed. Tests. No explanations. That was my moment. My unpredictable kick in the gut. 

But now you are standing beside me almost but not yet a man. We are watching the sunset on The Three Sisters Mountain Range, aptly named such for their snow capped peaks resemblance to praying nuns. The tallest peak representing Faith, the middle Charity and the smallest Hope. Here’s the another thing you hate. How I search for meaning behind, in, and around virtually everything. Especially when it relates to you. 

But there is meaning to this moment and it brings me to another predication about your future. Be patient, please. I am nearing my point. When life gives you that kick there’s no way to prepare. It may knock you down, push you nearly to your breaking point. But you will not break. You will survive. Humans are bendable. Survival isn’t the test. After, that is the true measure of your fortitude. Some people get stuck in survival mode. Long after the kick in the gut has come and gone they continue to fight. While others retreat permanently afraid of the unpredictability of life. Get to after. You see you live on a vast, diverse, terrifying and wonderous planet and if you let it life will offer you countless unpredictable moments. Some will leave you breathless and close to broken but more (oh, so many more) will leave you awe-struck, bring you love, riches in friends and laughter and unimaginable joy. 

Life is made up of a thousand big and little befores and afters. Each with their own set of possibilities. The possibility of this moment, the sharing of this magnificent sunset was once impossible. But here we are. You and me and The Three Sisters. All it took was a little Faith, Charity, and Hope.

Love Mom

Until Next Time, Happy Camping

We saw our first bear today. Okay, our first non-zoo or circus bear. It was a big black bear. He looked hungry but then all bears look hungry to me. 

It’s true I am afraid of bears. Some people think that fact is hilarious. Mostly close friends and family – you know those who theoretically should be most supportive. Unless, I am confused and “support” is actually defined as repetitively posting pictures of snarling bears with comments like “Watch out for the bears, Tanya” “LOL”. No one laughs out loud around bears. I’ve covered this in previous blogs. Bears aren’t funny. Apex predators don’t LOL.

A friend from work happens to be from Canada. He knew I was nervous about the bears and as thoughtful Canadians are prone to do he got me a “gift”. A bear bell.  Thanks, Sam, now they will know dinner is coming.  

Sam, is also the one who left me with two critical parting words of wisdom. Words that loop through my brain again and again with every snapped branch or rustling of bushes. First, bears are not like squirrels. I think this was meant to comfort me. Remind me that bears aren’t lurking around every corner and as it turns out Sam is correct. Thus far, I have not seen one squirrel. Second (my favorite advice of all time) that I should definitely not be worried about the bears. After all it’s the Pumas you need to worry about, you’ll never see those coming. 

LOL? 

Occasionally, one can spend so much time in a virtual world that it is easy to forget the actual real and often breathtaking beauty that nature provides. After countless family trips to theme parks (where the only thing that is real is the second mortgage needed to pay for the visit) and an unfortunate bowling incident where our boys bypassed the bowling balls in search of the Wii remote, we have set out to find intentionally real family traveling experiences. 

While we haven’t achieved globetrotting status yet (working on that though) we have been fortunate to stack up some memorable family experiences. A bank robbery in Charleston, Surf Kayaking in Savannah, man in boxers versus angry raccoons in South Carolina, perfect star gazing in Shenandoah National Park, live Jazz at Perservation Hall in NOLA, and whitewater rafting in Nantahala National Forest remain a few of the most memorable.

Now that everyone in the family has a passport I was eager to travel abroad this summer. Dylan suggested we travel to visit “his people, in the land of majestic red hair” otherwise known as Ireland. Spencer will go anywhere that features activities that could kill him and/or put me in a mental hospital with worry. Think BASE Jumping in Switzerland or Running of The Bulls in Pamplona. Scott (just like me) is pretty much game for any location, but with one exception. While I search out amazing experiences in a breathtaking landscape he hunts a deal and if he can work in a road trip to torture his wife that helps as well.

Somehow we managed to tick off most of everyone’s wish list (including deals and a road trip) ultimately settling on a week in the Canadian Rockies including Banff and Jasper National Parks, and a week in enjoying the rugged Pacific Coast beauty of Vancouver Island, and few days in Seattle for a little food, family, friends and finally a work conference. 

So, here we go. The passports are packed. My Pinterest board is sufficiently full of breathtaking vista views and we are ready for next “real” adventure. Our expectations for a trip of a lifetime are high, let’s hope not too high.

Not What We Expected

We are here. Held briefly at the border crossing while they searched the rental and Scott nervously answered their questions. Dylan thinks they wanted our muffins. Spencer just thought it was cool that he could add “searched by border patrol” to his resume of adventures. 

Now, we are driving down the Trans-Canadian Highway, speechless. Nothing looks like what we saw online. Everywhere you look is another sweeping breathtaking view. The landscape is so much more…

Unable to articulate in words I will leave it at Dylan’s description. It really is like being trapped in a Bob Ross painting.

Oh, for those of you concerned that Dylan’s vacation wish was not met, while not among “his people of the majestic red hair” he has garnered an odd amount of attention from the locals and other tourists. “It’s a red head thing, mom.”

Until next time, happy camping.

When my son Spencer was just a few months old, he spiked a mysterious fever. Being the well-informed new mother that I was I knew the fever represented something catastrophic. Of course, these things only happen in the middle of the night and on weekends so my husband, being the absolutely clueless new dad that he was, suggested a wait and see approach. I, on the other hand, knew the only rational approach was a medi vac transport to the nearest trauma unit. We compromised with a trip to the after hours clinic. After a long sleepless night, we were sent home with instructions to keep an eye on him and follow up with our pediatrician on Monday. With his very best “I told you so” face my husband handed me the paperwork where the doctor had clearly written under diagnosis the word “Reassurance.”

That was nearly 15 years ago and still every time I am prone to “overreact” I am (not so) gently reminded of that reassurance diagnosis. Still, old habits die hard so when I suggested my husband call the campground and inquire about wildlife (specifically bears) before our summer camping trip to Black Rock Mountain State Park in Georgia, I was absolutely seeking reassurance. Word came back from the husband that he was assured while there were bears in the area they hadn’t had any sightings in the campground. Ahh, how reassuring. Which is why upon arrival when I inquired a second time about wildlife and the ranger responded Black Bears, Bobcats, and Raccoons and then gave me that stern park rangery look like she just knows before the week is out she’s going to be sifting through bear scat for my dental remains. I was not feeling very reassured.

After strategically searching for a site least likely to be invaded by bears we settled on the perfect spot flanked by a bathhouse to one side and larger campers surrounding all other sides. Per the Rangers instructions we stored food and anything with a scent in the vehicle. Unfortunately, the ranger was not clear about where to store two teenage boys and trust me they do not have an “unscented” version.

Having not been immediately mauled to death and noticing no one else in the campground seemed alarmed I began to relax, a bit. Still, though, I do like my reassurance so I started chatting up our neighbors. The couple to the left hadn’t seen any wildlife and after the first night stopped storing items in their vehicle. Encouraged, I continued to the nice old guy in the camper parked in front of us. Turns out they meet the kids and grandkids at Black Rock every year. Jackpot, surely this wise grandpa wouldn’t bring his entire family to the campground infested with bears. Reassurance to commence in 4, 3, 2…

Not so fast. Again I ask about wildlife in the area when Grandpa takes a big belly laugh and says “Funny, story…” and proceeds to tell me about how his wife loves to cook pots and pots of boiled peanuts…

I need to pause for just a moment, for my northern friends boiled peanuts are raw peanuts soaked and then boiled for several hours in salt and water. They are often referred to as the caviar of the south sometimes eaten with hot sauce and generally best when purchased from a roadside vendor along a desolate highway in backwoods nowheresville. If you haven’t tried them, your life is incomplete.

Okay back to the story… Grandma has her pots of boiled peanuts outside the camper and Grandpa is woken up in the middle of the night by a loud noise he opens the camper door and wouldn’t you know it a big black bear is just sitting there eating Grandmas peanuts. Oh, that’s so funny a real knee-slapper, right? Oh, right here as he motions from the bathhouse directly through our campground to his door, this is here is the “bear trail”. Then he Giggles and admits that yeah his wife probably should stop making the peanuts and leaving them outside but darn it she just loves them so much. My eyes landing on the giant pot of boiled peanuts sitting by their front door and I wasn’t feeling anything like reassurance.

After a brief panic. That’s not true, it was a long drawn out panic. I googled “how to survive a black bear attack” and “statistics on recent attacks including fatal versus nonfatal”. Did you know that some recommend shouting “Hey, Bear!” loudly over and over to scare them away. That seems foolhardy to me. Why would I say hello to anything that wishes to make me its dinner? Seems like “I have a high-powered rifle and an NRA membership.” Or, “Look, boiled peanuts over there.” would be more effective.

While I never found any real reassurance I also never found any Bears, Bobcats, or other wildlife. In fact, the scariest thing we encountered were the campground showers.

As it turns out, reassurance isn’t all it is cracked up to be. What is assuring to one may illicit shear panic in another and when you do find it most of the time it is merely a placebo.

My assurances came in the form of information. Taking the time to better understand my surroundings quelled the panic and gave me all the comfort I needed.

The Real Danger

Humans are the real danger. When garbage and food are not stored properly, bears view it as a food source which can lead to dangerous encounters between bears and humans and some cases lead to the animals being destroyed by wildlife officials. According to the Georgia Department of Natural Resources Wildlife Resource Division, Georgia is home to 5,100 Black Bears. There are no recorded bear attacks on humans in Georgia and no fatalities.

Now, that’s reassuring.

Until next time, happy camping.

 

Dylan’s bear strategy was to “blend in with the locals”.

  This is exactly why we camp. Bears and all.
 Spencer sketching the scenery.

Camping, family travel, travel adventures, outdoors, Georgia mountains, black bears, Georgia State Parks, Black Rock Mountain State Park

 

Camping. You. Really?

Whenever I mention, I camp this is usually the reaction I get. It isn’t the frequency of which I get said reaction that bothers me as much as the complete look of bewilderment on people’s faces. Like they’ve just watched that YouTube video of the Indonesian toddler chain-smoking. They’ve seen evidence of it, but they just can’t seem to believe it.

To be fair, I am not what one would describe as patient. It isn’t that I have little or easily worn thin patience I am patience absentia. When I was born and the doc smacked my behind my cry wasn’t for that first precious breath of life but annoyance at how long the doc was taking to wrap up the whole birth thing. Seriously, get move on doc I’ve got a life to hurry through.

And at the campsite everything takes time.

Hungry? Get firewood. Build fire. Wait for fire to get hot enough to cook. Cook food. Eat food. Clean up food mess. Time for next meal.

What happens after you eat? Bathrooms are a 1/2 mile walk daily (2x daily if you have a high fiber diet).

Showers are also a half mile walk unless you shower in the camper and if you read about last year’s shower red croc fiasco you know now I almost always use the camper shower. It takes grace and patience to bathe in a hobbit sized shower. I do not have grace or patience. My children have heard more swear words due to the simple act of showering then if I had allowed them to watch an entire season of Sopranos.

Okay, so why do it? Perhaps, I camp for the same reason other people save an average of four years to visit the central part of one of the hottest and most humid places in North America and stand in hours-long lines for a one minute thrill on a roller coaster and eat a giant overpriced hot dog, the experience.

The problem with experiences – they take time and if you are the type who is always ready for tomorrow to be yesterday you can waste a lot of time and experiences. Here, in the middle of nowhere, the impatient I has no choice but to surrender because nature runs on its own clock.

Speaking of nature, she’s calling and I still have 1/2 half mile walk before I can answer. Gotta go.

Until next time happy camping…

Dylan learning the virtues of patience.

Me exercising my patience.