The Scenic Route

Our camping trip went fantastically well on all accounts.  I didn't die in some tragic stumble from a mountain top, Wyatt didn't get West Nile from all the bug bites, and I didn't kill Terry.  It was a great weekend and I am shocked to say that I would definately do it again.  I enjoyed being in the fresh mountain air.  There is something envigorating about all of it.  And our "roughing it" came with a walk to showers and bathrooms, with air mattresses and water spigets, with a trip to a pancake house for breakfast and margaritas after a long hike.  It was camping-lite and a great way to really pull out Wyatt's boy-ness.

Terry thought that the best way to broach the 6 hour trip to North Woodstock, New Hampshire was to leave at 5am, get much of the trip under our belt before Wyatt woke up.  I, surprisingly, agreed and then suggested finding some park or museum to let him blow off energy before making the rest of the trip.  I found this little town with a train and toy museum somewhere in Vermont that sounded promising.  Wyatt loved the little train ride and eating lunch in this old diner where they served orgainc, local food.  We took a scenic route through some mountains, letting woodsy air stream through open windows, singing songs from Wyatt's playlist on my iPod, which Terry eventually changed to Bob Dylan.  I jumped in the backseat to play with Wyatt and offer snacks.  He would take 3 oreo cookies out of the package at a time.  One for Momma, one for Dadda and one for Wyatt.

We got to the site around 2:30 and within a half hour Wyatt was covered in dirt, driving his trucks through the mud, and had destroyed most of the goodies that Mia had given him to last the weekend.  He had wanted to try out his new fishing pole about 12 times on the car ride up so I figured I would give it a shot while Terry had his way with the tent.  On the first cast, I wrapped it around a tree and got it caught, then I had to snap the line to get it back in.  So much for my outdoorsy prowess.  To make up for it, I tied a small dog figurine to the end of the line to act as a buoy.  It wasn't like we were going to catch anything.  The raging "river" that I had envisioned turned out to be a trickling stream, deep to your ankles, that made me have to pee.  Once the bulldog was attached, every time Wyatt reeled it in he shouted "I caught a whopper!" As if it was the bulldog we caught in the water.

We sat around in our camping chairs, one I bought especially for Wyatt, with cold beers, a juice box, and a warm fire. I got to catch up with Mia and Kelly while Terry took Wyatt on adventure walks and trips to the playground.  Recently, Wyatt has been afraid of shadows and the dark at home.  I was curious how this was going to manifest while camping where everything is dark and shadowy once the sunsets. I was nervous that sleeping in a tent was going to send him into terrified mode; memories that you need therapy for.   Fortunately, the novelty of flashlights, the fresh air, and the sun wore him out enough that I told him two bedtime stories and he was sleeping.  Terry and I took turns checking on him while we got to participate in camp fire shenanigans.  Have you ever had a s'more with a Reeses?  It blew my mind.

The next morning Mia and the gang were going on a casual hike to a natural rock slide and swimming hole.  About 3 miles each way plus a relaxing swim to break up the trek.  Terry and I thought it sounded like a good idea.  On the drive we past a baby black bear napping in a tree.  I told Terry to pull over.  It wasn't until Wyatt, the camera, and I were out of the car before I realized it might be slightly dangerous.  There was a baby black bear.  The momma bear had to be somewhere near by.  For the rest of the hike all I could think of was wondering into a bear.  We decided to take it slow; let Wyatt take in the sights.   The group went on ahead while we stopped to feed trail mix to a chipmunk.  About 2.5 miles in, we saw a sign saying Black Pond.  Neither of us had a map, or directions, and decided that was probably the right trail.  It was not.  It was rocky, steep, LONG, marked sometimes by only yellow spray paint on trees.  Terry and I switched off between the pack and Wyatt.  I wore Wyatt like a backpack or Terry put him on his shoulders.  Wyatt got cranky, understandably.  It was a far longer hike then any of us expected.  He finally past out on the way home with his head resting on my shoulder blade.  That being said, the rest we took by the pond was idyllic.  And when we finally got to the rock slide, dipping our feet in the icy mountain water was refreshing and calming.  I didn't want to go in because it was freezing but as classic clumsy Kate, I took a slip on a wet rock and landing smack on my butt.  We hiked for 8 miles.  Wyatt hiked for .5 tops.  I made Terry stop at a Mexican restaurant for dinner because we deserved a margaritas.

Back at the camp, later that night, Mia and Kelly told us they were about the send out a search party we took so long.  We got cleaned up and introduced Wyatt to s'mores.  We found the longest stick imaginable and let him roast one.  He loved it.  He didn't want to go to sleep that night.  I told him 3 stories before Terry joined us and I made him tell some.  Wyatt was snuggled up between us and said "We're all good friends."  Everyone can 'Awww' now.  He is just so amazing.  Honestly, where does he come up with this? I think I feel asleep before he did that night.  Once he was asleep, he even slept through a small thunderstorm.

The ride home was a little torturous and took us way longer then expected. I think next year maybe we'll find somewhere a little closer.  It was a great way to spend my birthday weekend and I have to thank Mia for organizing it all.  Another milestone checked off my list.