I hiked up to Alum Cave Bluff today with my friend Thomas. It was about 25 deg. according to my handy keychain thermometer and the snow was beginning to flurry. I haven't been on this trail in 10 years and with the weather being what it is I didn't quite know if the views would be available. Along the way we encountereed a few hikers, a nice couple from Baton Rouge who warned of the ice ahead and the possibility of some hand and knee crawling up the stairs through the arch. But I had my stick, the one my dad made me about 10 years ago, that makes me feel like either Moses or Gandalf as i plod along. It is the modern substitute for the longrifle that my ancestors probabaly leaned on as they took in the views when they walked the trails. At least that what Fess parker always did on Daniel Boone. Anyway, that stick had my initials carved in it and some other talismans my dad thought apprpriate, like UT and West High School, and Young Life, along with the cool medallion of the AT that I had at the top. It was straight and smooth, with my leather cord running through it, and it was just the right thickness to give you confidence when you put your weight on it. It gave that notion of safety as if a stick could deter any rascally encounters with miscreants and varmints. It saw me to the top and I didn't have to resort to hands and knees once. We reached the cave where a few folks were just leaving. After the obligatory PB&J and granola bar, with the wind whipping around and my hands frozen from wet gloves, it was time to take a few snapshots for posterity. We watched the skies clear and the sun break through over the mountains and it was just a great day to be on a mountain. I stood there leaning on my faithful hiking stick and thanked the Good Lord for a great view and a friend to share the journey with. We made it down (don't get ahead of me, I still had my stick) without much trouble, though the ice was a bit trickier down than up. That old stick just took my weight as I crept down the slippery slope and we took in some views that, though hazy on the way up, were clear and breathtaking on the way down. You can see my pictures, I'm speaking gospel here. It was a beautiful day. A couple of times I just the camera on a limb and as it twisted a little it snapped the perfect picture of my buddy Thomas and me with the picture clear as a bell. Yep, it was that kind of a day.
When we hit the bottom the sun was shining and we thought we may as well see the view from Newfound Gap, so I laid my stick against the rear of the van and set down my pack and changed my boots for driving. I grabbed my backpack and we headed off (you saw it right there didn't you? If only I had) The views from Newfound Gap were awesome, and after my camera battery died we decided it was time to head back to Knoxville. My kids would be anxious to see the pictures of the snow (they were raised in Florida), and Thomas was going to get to rub it in on his roomates that while they were trapped in a classroom, he'd spent the day in the high country. We drove past where we had parked at Alum Bluff Trail without a thought, my wife called to ask how the day had been and oblivious to the actual state of things, I said "fine". It was when we hit Chapman Highway I suddenly felt the pang of loss. I knew my stick was gone before I asked Thomas to take a look, but i asked anyway. Sure enough she was left behind. It probably laid there helpless as we whistled on past heading home with the bluegrass playing. Like that person in the TV commercials who has fallen, but she can't get up, it laid there on the frozen pavement, forgotten.
I know it's a just a stick, and my dad lives to make stuff like that, so I'll have another, but I'd be lying to you if I said it didn't discombobulate me all way back. You're reading this thinking,"why wouldn't anyone foolish enough to come home and write this story before he uses the Granpa's Pine Tar Soap, just turn around and go get his dang hiking stick? I'll grant you that I thought about it, and with gas prices dropping the temptation was powerful, but I had hit the coming home traffic, Thomas was ready to get home, and so there you have it, I consigned it to the Park, where perhaps I can pay it forward. Perhaps some UT, West High grad who went to Young Life will see it there and know that it was providence. Or, maybe some stranded visitor whose car battery fails will find it to be the piece of dry wood they are desperate for to start a life-giving blaze.
I'll say this, and then leave you to ponder your own losses, or perhaps go to the corner and check on the safety of your own trusty companion, it would take more than a lost piece of wood to take anything of real value away from todays journey up to Alum Bluff Cave with a good friend. (but if you happen to run across her, just shoot me a post on GoSmokies)
When we hit the bottom the sun was shining and we thought we may as well see the view from Newfound Gap, so I laid my stick against the rear of the van and set down my pack and changed my boots for driving. I grabbed my backpack and we headed off (you saw it right there didn't you? If only I had) The views from Newfound Gap were awesome, and after my camera battery died we decided it was time to head back to Knoxville. My kids would be anxious to see the pictures of the snow (they were raised in Florida), and Thomas was going to get to rub it in on his roomates that while they were trapped in a classroom, he'd spent the day in the high country. We drove past where we had parked at Alum Bluff Trail without a thought, my wife called to ask how the day had been and oblivious to the actual state of things, I said "fine". It was when we hit Chapman Highway I suddenly felt the pang of loss. I knew my stick was gone before I asked Thomas to take a look, but i asked anyway. Sure enough she was left behind. It probably laid there helpless as we whistled on past heading home with the bluegrass playing. Like that person in the TV commercials who has fallen, but she can't get up, it laid there on the frozen pavement, forgotten.
I know it's a just a stick, and my dad lives to make stuff like that, so I'll have another, but I'd be lying to you if I said it didn't discombobulate me all way back. You're reading this thinking,"why wouldn't anyone foolish enough to come home and write this story before he uses the Granpa's Pine Tar Soap, just turn around and go get his dang hiking stick? I'll grant you that I thought about it, and with gas prices dropping the temptation was powerful, but I had hit the coming home traffic, Thomas was ready to get home, and so there you have it, I consigned it to the Park, where perhaps I can pay it forward. Perhaps some UT, West High grad who went to Young Life will see it there and know that it was providence. Or, maybe some stranded visitor whose car battery fails will find it to be the piece of dry wood they are desperate for to start a life-giving blaze.
I'll say this, and then leave you to ponder your own losses, or perhaps go to the corner and check on the safety of your own trusty companion, it would take more than a lost piece of wood to take anything of real value away from todays journey up to Alum Bluff Cave with a good friend. (but if you happen to run across her, just shoot me a post on GoSmokies)
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