Journal Day 8

Our last day in Smokey Mountain National Park – and no pussy footing around…it was time to hike! We got up early and were at the park gates by 9:00 a.m. We headed up the 45 minute long drive to Clingman’s Dome – the highest point in the park.

Two things we noticed about this climb: 1) the air was chilly, and 2) the trail was steep. The walk to the top was a little dampened by the results of a Frasier fir eating aphid called the Balsom Wooly Adelgid. The insect came to the US on imported nursery stock in the 1950s from Europe. It has been eating the snot out of all the Frasier firs since. The rangers are concerned because this is one of the only places in the United States that the Frasier Fir appears in the wild. They are attempting to control its spread, but it is a tough job.

The devastation of this tiny, little bug was far-reaching. Thousands of bare trunks stuck up amongst living trees marring the landscape and creating and eerie mood. As we and some of our fellow hikers looked at the ravaging, one phrase from an earlier trail guide came to mind. “The only thing in a forest that is constant is change.” And so, though this may be sad right now, it is a blip in history. The future can hold much – the majority of which is unknown.

So, our hearts a little lighter for remembering that God is in charge, we headed back down Clingman’s Dome and on the way hiked another ¼ mile section of the Appalachian Trail. This part of the trail near Clingman’s Dome is narrow and rocky. We got lots of mountain kisses on our legs (dewy grass drying itself on our shins). And, we enjoyed meeting several hikers like ourselves. We also met two real, honest-to-goodness, bed-roll packing, in-it-for-the-whole-shebang hikers. The boys were impressed.

After we returned to the car, we finished the 8 page requirement in the Junior Ranger books and headed on back down to the Oconaluftee Visitor’s Center. The boys had to do 8 activities each, attend a ranger talk, pick up a bag full of trash and then get sworn in. To get our “Not So Junior Ranger” patch, we had to attend 3 ranger talks. We were not done with our job. So, we headed back to the Mountain Farm Museum to attend a presentation called “Batteries Not Included.”

This ranger led activity was really fun. The whole family enjoyed playing fox and geese, tops, corn darts, clothespins, a springy thing that I don’t know the name of, a wooden dancing man, marbles and stilts! Dad’s particular skill was with the fox and geese game, our youngest was a whiz with corn darts and our oldest gave several lessons on how to make the dancing man dance.

Mom, however, was declared the best all-around at stilts impressing several tourists and the ranger with my excellent stilt skills. Little did they know that I spent many childhood hours walking from the garage to the machine shed on my very own pair. Apparently, walking on stilts is like riding a bike – even I was surprised at how easily it all came back. I ended up holding kind of a stilt clinic right there teaching several other families the best grip hold and the easiest style of mounting.

After that, we ate a lunch of boiled eggs and headed into the ranger station to be sworn in. We got a really good ranger who looked carefully over all of the boys’ work in their books asking them questions while he looked. “What’s your favorite national park?” he asked. “Yellowstone,” the boys promptly answered. Not missing a beat he said, “That was the wrong answer, try again.” They got it right the second time.

Properly sworn and badged, we hopped into the car and drove to the Deep Creek campground to do some more hiking around two water falls found in that area. We ended up hiking about 4.5 miles of trails from about 2:00 to about 6:00 p.m. We hiked up the Deep Creek Trail and then joined with the Indian Creek Trail about halfway in and followed it down. We waded at the bottom of Indian Creek Falls – freezing water, but it felt excellent on the feet and shins after 3 miles of trail. We finished by watching the tubing along the bottom half of Indian Creek.

The tubing looked very fun, but we were most entertained by a tattooed woman getting out of the creek wet, smiling and exclaiming to anyone who would listen: “That is dangerous! I was wondering why everyone was walking back down with their tubes, but now I know why! They need to post danger sounds around here!”

Secretly, we thought she probably had a pretty good time.

We met some people on the trail. One family from Raleigh, NC waded with us at the falls and a mother, father and daughter were fly fishing up at the top of Deep Creek and followed us back down the trail. It was nice to have their company.

On the trail we saw several of the plants that we had learned about in the junior ranger books. One in particular is the tulip tree. The leaves of this tree look chopped off at the top – sort of like it forgot to grow in that part. We also are seeing Rosebay Rhododendron everywhere – even though there is a small family argument about whether or not to call it R.R. or Mountain Laurel.

After the trail, we were definitely ready to get back to the cabin and spend our last night enjoying it. We ate spaghetti for supper and then got into the hot tub to soak our sore muscles. It was incredible. We will miss our little cabin on the side of the mountain very much.

While we were soaking, we sat and watched a rather large spider gather her dinner for the evening and talked about the last few days. For my youngest, the best part was the nature trail where we discovered the remains of Nick McCarter’s cabin and explored John Ownsby’s cabin. For my oldest, it was the hike to the top of Clingman’s Dome to look around. For my husband, it was holding the honor of being one of the very first ever “Not So Junior Rangers” sworn in on the first year of the only National Park that has the program in place. For me, it was making the corn shuck doll and playing with the old fashioned toys.

We each enjoyed the Smokies in our own way. Tomorrow we turn west and for home.

Journal Day 7

We are officially halfway into our trip. If I had to put a label on today it would be “the day of doing whatever we wanted.”

This was created mostly because I think that the pace of our trip finally caught up with us. The alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., but neither my husband nor I could stomach getting up that early. The boys were even out until an unheard of 8:45. We lazed about the cabin until nearly noon.

After their breakfast, the boys played a little foosball, tried making spears out of their arrowheads, and explored outside while my husband and I read, did some laundry, and nibbled on breakfast. After that, we sat around the dining table and worked a little on the Junior Ranger books and then hopped in the car to head to the park.

When we got there, we picked up two “Not So Junior Ranger” pamphlets. This is a program for people from ages 13 to 130. We figured, why should the boys have all the fun? Then it was back to the Mountain Farm museum for a ranger led program called “Aw, Shucks.”

The program was a brief orientation to the importance of the corn plant for the mountain farm family. Corn was good as food because if you don’t crack it, it apparently never spoils. I did not know that. Because the area is so high in humidity other grains spoiled rather quickly and wouldn’t keep. Corn quickly became a mountain staple.

All pieces of the corn plant were useable and the ranger informed us briefly about what some of those uses were. And then, she started talking about the corn shuck. Apparently, the shuck is one of the most versatile parts of the corn plant. She showed us a rug, a chair seat and a mop made out of dried corn shucks. We then got our own shucks that had been soaked in water for about 3-5 minutes and sat down to make corn shuck dolls.

Now, you wouldn’t think that boys would be interested in making dolls, but this was the quietest ours had been almost the entire trip. They were enthralled. The ranger showed us how to make the dolls into boy dolls with legs and we now have two of them. On the way back to the car, my oldest decided that we could put a cape on his when we got home so that his could be a superhero. My youngest started trying to figure out how his could hold a lightsaber.

After that program, we headed up the Smokey Mountain Highway towards the Sugarland Visitor Center on the Tennessee side of the park. The road is tree-lined and beautiful with several pull-offs where you can get out of your car and walk a quiet little trail or peek over the edge of a rock wall for a fabulous view. There is one particular spot in the road called “The Loop.” This was really fun, because the road curves and loops under itself to get back down one of the mountains. The boys spent this part imagining they were on a rollercoaster. My husband was fighting motion sickness.

At the Sugerland Visitor Center, we went on a one mile long hike through the woods to view the homesteads of Nicholas McCarter and John Ownsby. We spent $1 for the guidebook at the entrance of the trail and were very happy that we did. The trail would not have been half as interesting without it.

The guide showed us how we could tell where a corn field had been by looking at the age and type of the trees growing in the area. The type of trees is determined by how much sun the area gets. When the pine trees grow to a point where most of the area is shaded (a process that takes several years), the type of trees that need full sun to grow give way to trees that fare better in the shade. The guide also explained that the change from open fields to forest also affects the types of birds and mammals that live in the area.

The McCarter home had all but disappeared. The trail went right across what would have been Mr. McCarter’s front porch had the house still have been there. All that remained was a pile of rocks where the chimney had been. Nick also had a boxwood in his front yard that was the biggest boxwood my husband and I had ever seen. It made the boxwoods in front of our house look kinda wimpy.

The trail continued on to the John Ownsby cabin. This cabin had been restored by the park rangers and sat as a testament to the people who called the Smokey Mountains their home. Between the Ownsby land and the McCarter land the guide pointed out the remains of a stone fence.

After this little hike, we headed back to the visitor’s center for another ranger talk on what it was like to be a kid in 1808. The ranger did a great job with a large group of kids, showing them pictures of what kids wore (boys would wear dresses because they were simpler to hand down to younger siblings) and what kinds of chores they did.

Because the doctor was sometimes a two-day horse ride from a mountain family’s home, the ranger also showed the kids some of the things that families would use for medicine and bandages. She played a human “memory” game by having six kids stand in front of the group. Three of the kids held modern day medicines (Band Aids, Tums and bug spray) and three held corresponding old day medicines (moss, a berry plant, and opossum oil). The six children had their backs turned to the group so that the audience could not see what they held. The rest of the kids had to match the old medicine to the new medicine by calling out the shirt color of the child that they wanted to turn around.

Then came the fun part! The ranger handed out the materials to make a Mountain “buzz” toy. The toy is basically made of a wooden cookie that had two holes bored in it to make it look like a two-inch round button and a piece of string. You thread the string through the two holes, tie a knot in the string and wah-lah – you’ve got a mountain buzz toy. We all made one of those. The ranger offered to the adults and my husband was the first brave soul who held his hand out. After that there were several parents who chimed in.

After we all got our journals and cards signed saying that we’d been there, we grabbed a snack for the road and headed home. On the way back, we stopped at a turnout on the Tennessee/North Carolina line called the Newfound Gap. It was also a spot to access the Appalachian Trial. Because we could and because we wanted to say that we had, we hiked about ¼ of a mile of the Appalachian Trail to see what we could see before heading back to the car.

The boys had gotten into a habit of asking us how long each trail we saw or walked on was. When I said that this one was 2,150 miles long, they were completely floored. “Are you kidding mom?” my oldest asked. “Not kidding,” I replied. “Wow,” was all he could say in return – shocked into silence.

Because we got such a late start, it was dark by the time we got back to the cabin. We grabbed what we needed out of the car and went to bed.

Journal Day 6

True to our word this morning, we slept in! We started this morning very lazy. I even got a little time on the couch with my book – just me and the birds outside.

After breakfast and getting around, we hopped in the car at around 10:00 a.m. and headed out to the Museum of the Cherokee and the Oconuluftee Indian Village. The museum did a good job of tracing the history of the Cherokee nation from its beginnings, through trade with the British, the Revolutionary War and the era of the Trail of Tears. The boys were most interested in the models of the Cherokee village and the talking exhibits.

The tour began with a 5 minute video of the Cherokee view of the beginning of the world. They told a story of a water beetle that helped to create the land out of mud from the bottom of the ocean. They also explained that the mountains in the land of the Cherokee were created by the great buzzard flapping his wings too close to the ground. From there, patrons wound around through exhibits on the history and ways of the Cherokee tribe. It was extremely well presented.

After that we headed further into the woods to tour the Oconuluftee Indian Village. This was a living history museum where we were lead through a series of stations of local tribesmen practicing their various crafts. Our Indian guide would describe what the person was doing, the tools that were being used and how the tools would have differed in the olden days.

There were stations on beadwork, basket weaving, canoe building, blow gun demonstrations, spear and arrowhead making and pottery. We also saw several examples of Cherokee homes as well as bear, fish and small animal traps. Finally, we were lead to the square grounds where the seven clans would gather to dance. And the tour ended at the Council house where the seven clans would gather to make decisions and govern themselves.

We probably enjoyed the final two things the most. John Walking Stick, an elderly gentleman spoke passionately about the Cherokee ways. He explained that unlike what most people think, Cherokee’s dancing was a way of praying to the Great Spirit for thanks and to ask for things that he wanted. The little gal in the Council House did a good job of explaining the political and justice system of the tribe. She also spoke several common phrases in the Cherokee language. And, it was from both of them that we learned that there is no word in the Cherokee language for “Goodbye.” This is because Cherokee’s always expect to see you again, either on earth or in the afterlife. So instead, they both said the Cherokee equivalent to “See you later.”

Following the Indian Village, we headed on up the mountain and into the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. We stopped first at Mingus Mill – an operating grist mill on the banks of Mingus Creek. The mill runs on a turbine system and was fired up and grinding corn when we got there. We hiked to the place where the water was diverted from the creek and into the wooden chute to eventually run the turbine. They had one grinding stone put together and working hard. The other they had taken apart so that you could see what it looked like on the inside.

Upstairs was a demonstration of the process of bolting flour to separate it into four types of quality (fine, middlins, bran, and I can’t remember the name of the final one). The sorted flour was routed through a chute back to the first floor where it was bagged for sale. The man working the mill explained that they only ground flour one day of the week. The other days were used for corn – a much easier and quicker process.

While we were there, he stopped the mill for a while to show us how the water would begin to overflow and spill over the side of the chute. There was a little boy playing beneath the chute when he stopped it. The man, who realized that he had Kansan’s in his midst said conspiratorially, “Watch this, that little boy is going to get wet.” Something tells me this man enjoys his job.

After the Mill, we returned to the Oconaluftee Visitor Center to stroll through the Mountain Hill Farm. The farm was comprised of relocated and restored buildings from the Davis farm. There was a house, meat house, outhouse, chicken coop, corn crib, apple shed, barn, and blacksmith shed. There was a full vegetable garden and large corn field. Each spot had a brief introduction to what the building was used for and how it was used.

There were also a couple of surprises. When we reached the barn, I smelled something that I haven’t had the pleasure of smelling for quite some time. Instantly I looked around and asked my husband, “Where’s the pigs?” And they were there! Penned over a little ways in the shade of the trees were two gilts rooting around in the mud. The smell took me straight back to childhood on the farm.

My oldest was enamored by the brood of chickens that called the Mountain Hill Farm home. There was a beautiful rooster, several hens and teenage chicks running around in and among the buildings. The farm was just a little way from the Oconaluftee River so we spent just a little bit playing in the shallow, rocky rapids before heading back to the car.

After that it was back to the cabin for dinner and a dip in the hot tub before calling it a day.

Journal Day 5

Since we had explored the longest cave in the world, we couldn’t pass up an opportunity to peek through the largest house in America. Built by George Vanderbilt, the 250-room Biltmore Mansion in Asheville North Carolina is a sight to behold.

I had been through it once before in 1992 with a girlfriend from high school. We motored through on our way to Charleston. It was amazing what 16 years will do to a place. My girlfriend and I went through on a guided tour with about 10 other people, heard stories about the Vanderbilt family, got to try out doorknobs and chairs and had no barrier access to the grounds and balconies outside the home. We only got to see the first, second and basement stories of the home and were too young to partake of the wine tasting at the Biltmore Winery. All of this experience was included in the price of admission.

In 2008, you walk in and for $8 you can get an MP3 player with a self-guided tour of the home. You follow the rest of humanity through the house looking at a map on a brochure that has numbers on each room that correspond to numbers that you type into your MP3. Then you would listen to a brief 2-3 minute commentary of the room that you were in trying not to unnecessarily crowd the people around or in front of you. For another $15 you can get special tours by reservation to see additional areas of the house with fewer people. And, if you want what my girlfriend and I got the last time we were there, you have to pay $150 per adult/$75 per child. And all of this is ON TOP of the regular admission to the grounds at the gate.

Despite the fleecing, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves as we walked through this home built by a person whose wealth we can’t even imagine. We all had our favorite parts. Our youngest was the tour Nazi, announcing which buttons to push on the MP3 player when we entered each room. He turned several heads and probably got some people to listen with us as authoritative and thorough as he was reading and following the map.

At one point, we were in the South Tower Room on the third floor – one of the many guest rooms in the house. Because he had his earphones on, my youngest did not realize that he was speaking rather loudly. He looked around at the room decorated in a subdued, neoclassical style of yellows, blues and pinks and announced, “This room looks like you are sleeping in a birthday cake!”

My favorite part was, of course, the house – but particularly the library. George was an avid reader and according to the auto tour was considered the most well-read man in America at the time. The have calculated that he read two books per week over his entire life-time. The library contains more than 10,000 books of his 23,000 book collection. The library was two stories high and stacked floor to ceiling with books, books and more books. I also love the grand staircase made of limestone that has no visible supports. In the middle of the staircase is a 1,700 pound chandelier held into place by a single bolt.

My husband was very impressed with the 72’ x 42’ x 70’ Banquet Hall. One end of the room is almost entirely covered with three side-by-side, walk-in fireplaces. The other end holds an organ loft and the center of the room contains an oak dining table that can extend to 40 feet. There are flags, banners, crests, hunting trophies, tapestries and huge, electric chandeliers. Cool room – and also the one that is featured on TV the most.

Our oldest enjoyed the gardens. He loved walking among the various gardens and took several photos of flowers, bees and greenery throughout the estate’s Italian Garden, Shrubbery Garden, Walled Garden and Conservatory. All the garden’s and the rest of the acreage surrounding the house were designed by Frederick Law Olmsted – the very same man who coined the term “landscape architecture” and who designed Central Park in New York City.

The entire family enjoyed the one “special” tour that we decided to take – the Rooftop Tour. The group on the 9:30 a.m. tour consisted of the four of us and a retired couple from Florida. On the tour we were able to go into some rooms that were not open to the general public on the tour and also were able to walk out on the rooftop balcony and several other balconies at the front and back of the house. We all patted the butt of a gargoyle on the front of the house for luck and looked at the view from outside of George’s bathroom. Tracy Ross, our tour guide, explained as we were looking out the back balcony that at one time, George owned every single piece of land that you could view from the balcony – including Mount Pisgah over 19 miles in the distance.

We also saw the attic and how the slate shingles were attached to the steel roof beams by what looked like copper bailing wire. We got a birds-eye view of the grand staircase and the front porch as well as some really great views out some fourth floor maid’s quarters windows. We went up and down some really weird, narrow staircases and in and out windows up around the rooftops. It was a really cool tour. If you are ever at Biltmore and you can only do one tour – this one is a terrific pick.

Tracy was a fantastic tour guide and instantly won over our youngest by making him the official “rope holder” when we would go through the barrier ropes to places not on the public tour – must be the freckles. We saw her later when we were touring on the audio tour and she caught the boys’ eyes and waved at them. She thanked us for visiting Biltmore so that she could keep the job that she thoroughly enjoyed. We were OK with that – she was good at her job.

After touring the house and gardens, we made our stop in the gift shop for our family Christmas ornament. We decided on a two-inch replica of the Vanderbilt china plate with the George’s initials in the center. Then it was on for a very short tour through the Winery, some wine tasting and home.

On the way back to the cabin we stopped at TGI Friday’s in Asheville for dinner and the Bryson City IGA for supplies and then called it an evening. Tomorrow, we have decided to sleep in!



George’s great-grandchildren are keeping the home and grounds alive and I’d say they are doing a fantastic job.

Journal Day 4

Apologies for the delay in posting. Took us awhile to get the Internet working in the cabin. To catch up, this is the Journal from Sunday.

Our final driving day for a while.

We began the day by worshiping with the members of the Highland United Methodist Church. The church wasn’t too far from the Mammoth Cave Park and had a small, mostly female congregation. In fact, besides us, there were only about three other guys present in the 30 or so member congregation. The boys didn’t want to go up for children’s time because there were way too many girls.

Pastor Donna Aros gave an excellent sermon on Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23. It is Jesus’ parable of the seeds and the soil. The message met my husband’s “requirements of a good sermon.” Pastor Donna focused on the parable’s image of God with his bag of seeds sowing his message of grace with great abandon. He is throwing it out there for all of us without care or consideration over where it lands. She went on to say that it is up to us to make sure that our soil is cultivated enough to hear the message of grace so that it will grow and spread. It was a message that was full of grace and Pastor Donna delivered it with great style.

The church family was also fun to observe. Because it was so small, people were extremely casual with one another and there was a lot of joking and laughing. Our presence in their midst seemed to make them a little nervous, but they managed it well. A couple of the women walked in late and were promptly teased by the rest of the ladies. The last person through the door also happened to be the pianist who swore on a stack of bibles that her watch, which was set by a GPS satellite, was right and the church’s clock was fast. Pastor Donna said fine, as long as she wouldn’t mind calling all the other people of the congregation next Sunday to make sure they knew the right time too.

We enjoyed our time among these smiling, warm, small church folk. The group sang “Wonderful Words of Life,” “In the Garden,” and “He Lives” from the United Methodist Hymnal a little off-key but with great gusto. Charles Wesley would have been proud. We heard announcements about a recent and very successful fundraiser as well as about an upcoming Vacation Bible School and canoe trip. Many people shook our hands and we received several warm smiles. It was a great start to the day.

After that it was back to Mammoth Cave hotel to pack up, check out and get back on the road. We were making some good time until we got on the Cumberland Parkway just outside of Glasgow, Kentucky.

I had settled into reading Fearless Fourteen by Janet Evanovich when suddenly I heard my husband gasp, slam on the breaks and felt him pull over to the side of the road. I looked up and saw what had caused his reaction. A car was in the grassy median of the road, clothing and mud strewn across the far west-bound lanes. It was completely upside down. We were the third car on the scene and I immediately grabbed the cell phone and the map, got out of the car and dialed 911. My husband told the boys to stay put and headed into the median to see what he could do to help. While we were stopped, two additional cars pulled over – one containing an off-duty nurse who immediately took over and organized everyone.

Apparently, a 60ish-year-old woman was driving east-bound heading to pick up her granddaughter at a nearby lake. Her tire blew out forcing her off the road. She hit the soft shoulder and her car did a bumper over grill somersault and landed on its top. She was thankfully wearing her seatbelt and – miracle of miracles – crawled out of the passenger side without her glasses but with only a small scratch on her ankle. She was disoriented and hurt and between the nurse and several other people she was given blankets and pillows to keep her warm and still.

We stayed until the ambulance from Glasgow showed up and then got in the car and continued down the road. I was unable to get back into my book for quite some time. The boys were also pretty shaken. The wreck occupied our conversation for the next several miles.

We ate lunch at Wendy’s in Somerset, Kentucky, headed on east to London to hook up with southbound I-75 which took us into Tennessee. About 20 miles outside of Knoxville, we ran into two lanes of slow moving traffic that looked to be backed up for at least 5-6 miles. When we finally got up to see what was causing the bottleneck, we noticed a semi truck pulled off the road, two police cars directing traffic and another small car in the median with a rear-end that was completely smashed in. There were no longer people at the scene of this wreck. It looked as if the two policemen were simply waiting on a clean-up crew to remove the vehicles and debris from off of the road.

I started to feel as if there were some cosmic forces at work and said a brief thank you prayer to God. Our delay with the first wreck could very well have saved us from being in the immediate area when this one happened. Maybe, maybe not, but my stomach felt a little uneasy for the remainder of the drive.

We headed east from Knoxville on I-40 and entered North Carolina for a beautiful drive skirting the Great Smokey Mountain National Park on the north side. It rained on us the entire way. The mountains truly lived up to their name and we saw a gorgeous rainbow outside of the Dillsboro Huddle Hut where we ate dinner. We drove on up to our cabin which is south and west of Bryson City, just up the mountain from Highway 28 north and could not believe our good fortune.

The cabin and its surroundings are beautiful. We have rented Bearfoot – one of the “value cabins” owned by Watershed Cabins here in North Carolina and we could not be more pleased. It is newly remodeled, contains everything a person could possibly want in a cabin INCLUDING a washer/dryer, two TV’s, a foosball table, an outdoor dining area, a grill, and a hot tub.

The boys were coming out of their skin they were so excited and we all took a dip in the hot tub before bed. I read the boys a chapter out of Harry Potter until all was quiet in the cabin and then set the alarm to get an early start for our day of adventure in Asheville tomorrow. All in all, it was a terrific way to end a long, mentally exhausting day.

Journal Day 3

Today, we got up at about 6:30 a.m. to prepare for a ½ day trip down the Green River. While Dad got ready for the day, the boys and I headed to the Travertine Restaurant to try their breakfast buffet. The boys stuffed themselves with French toast, sausage, biscuits and gravy and orange juice and I ate my absolute favorite ever breakfast – oatmeal, fruit and milk. A breakfast for champions – and we definitely needed it.

We swooped back by the room to pick up Dad and head back out to Cave City and the Green River Canoeing company where we would pick up our canoe and lifejackets. After signing the necessary paperwork that assured the company that we would not sue them if we all landed in the river and suffered bodily injury – we piled in the van and headed to the drop off point at Dennison Ferry.

Our canoe was a green, plastic three-seater. The company gave us two oars – one long and one short. The loading dock was twenty-five steps down some stairs and was just wide enough for one boat at a time. The driver took one look at the boating customers – a family of three with a 5-year-old girl; a nice couple, their grandparents and their two toddler children from Japan; a father/son team; and the family of four with two boys from Kansas – and loaded us in the water first.

The trip down river began like any other. Green trees, peaceful water, partly cloudy skies with plenty of shade and plenty of sunlight. My oldest was in the front with a paddle, I was in the middle seat with my youngest on a pad at my feet and Dad was holding up the rear. We floated the first couple of miles chatting about the nature that we saw, watching my youngest trailing leaves and his hands in the water and getting splashed occasionally by the wild paddler in the front of the boat.

At one turn, we smelled a little bit of nature taking care of its dead and dying at which point my youngest immediately removed his hands from the water. “That’s the last time I’m puttin’ my hands in that!” he announced with great conviction. Shortly thereafter, we got out of the canoe on a small island and walked around for a while. The pull of the water was too much and our six-year-old was soon back in the water, hands feet and body scrounging for living river clams to pick up, proclaim found, and return to the water.

We loaded back in the boat a little wetter than when we started and headed back down river thinking we would soon dry out. Shortly downstream we began to hear a low rumble. As we continued to paddle, a nice gentle rain began. “Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head,” I sang. Then, we looked ahead. “Look at that,” my husband said calmly. “A wall of rain, heading our way.” And it sure was.

We paddled to a steep, muddy shoreline and took shelter under an overhanging tree for the slightly more than gentle rainstorm. The tree managed to keep us and the canoe dry. “Should we start out?” asked my husband. After tuning in to the sound of the storm, I suggested that we stay put for just a little longer. We were glad that we did.

Here came the next pass – but this time it was a little more than a rainstorm. The skies opened and completely drenched us. We were slightly sheltered under the tree, but the rain was too heavy and coming too fast for the leaves to hold. Now, not only were we dealing with the rain, but we had two boys that were more than a little freaked out by being outside, with no roof over their heads, and caught smack dab in the middle of a storm that most like to view from their windows. We also had a canoe that was beginning to fill with a little water.

Out of the canoe we came. We scrambled up the muddy bank as much as we could. I was completely occupied calming a very frightened six-year-old and my oldest was pulling it together to help his dad tip the canoe over to dump the water and keep more water from pooling in the bottom.

After a while in this very precarious position, it became apparent that the weather under the tree was worse than the weather outside of it. So, we tipped the canoe back over and headed out again – with one small change. “Mom, you paddle,” came the request from the two boys. “Let’s just get back to the hotel.” And, so, with only six miles further to go, mom and dad paddled the canoe back out into the overcast skies.

As it turned out, we only had to seek shelter one more time – during which Dad maneuvered the canoe under a low hanging, muddy branch that quickly deposited a softball size clump of mud onto the top of my head. The boys of course thought this was hilarious – and it did help to lighten the tension coming from our youngest son. So, mom took one for the team.

This next rain shower was short lived and we were able to push back downstream fairly quickly. It is amazing how such an adventure can bond complete strangers together. For the remainder of the trip we ended up passing several folks who had pulled over to attempt to dry out just a bit. We felt somehow closer to these kindred river spirits and they to us. We waved. We passed greetings back and forth. And, we laughed together. One elderly gentleman summed it up by saying as we passed, “Did you run into a little rain back there?”

On this final section of the river, we held some deep, family discussions about “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” We marveled at a deer eating leaves close by the shore. And, we sang “The Bear Song.” When it ended, we were ready to be done.

After docking at the Green River Ferry takeout and storing our canoe, oars and lifejackets for pickup, we headed back to the hotel for lunch and a much needed shower. We relaxed for just a few minutes until it was time for our cave tour in the afternoon.

Mammoth Cave is the world’s longest known cave and has 15 options of tours ranging from an extremely easy, self guided nature hike around the historic entrance of the cave to a six and ½ hour crawling, belly sliding, wall climbing, honest-to-goodness spelunking experience.

The Kansas Hicks’ chose the River Styx tour – one that focuses on how the cave was formed by the forces of water. Our tour took us to the very bottom of the cave (360 feet or a little more than the length of a football field) and up and down 497 stairs. At the bottom, we saw the Dead Sea, the River Styx and the Echo River – tributaries of the Green River and the very same rivers that are continuing to form the cave passages and shafts that we were exploring.

There were several highlights on the tour – not the least of which was the bathroom stop halfway through. The boys were absolutely impressed with the fact that the bathroom ceiling was rock from the cave. We also saw a cave cricket. The park ranger bringing up the rear said it was a female and shone her flashlight on it so that she could show the boys just how she could tell that marvelous piece of information. We also stopped in the very same spot where Ralph Waldo Emerson penned some lines of poetry describing his experience. Our tour guide read the stanzas that referred to the places where we were standing and looking.

When we returned to the surface, we finished our junior ranger papers, got our stamp in our national park passport book, heard the boys’ successful completion announced over the loud speaker, got their badges, and headed to eat while our bodies acclimated to being above ground in the more heated, humid environment.

After dinner, we walked off the incredible meal by walking around the park grounds for a while and then returned to our room for bed. What an incredible day. What an incredible park. And we haven’t even scratched the surface.

Vacation Journal Day 2

Another day of driving. And this one felt like it. The Hicks family has been cooped up in a car too long.

We woke fairly early this morning and grabbed breakfast at the hotel. We headed east on Highway 60 to the convergence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. We crossed two tall bridges and the boys were thrilled to discover a tugboat pushing barges strapped 3 wide and 6 deep.

Then it was meandering back roads through Kentucky until we reached our first pit stop at Paducah’s visitor center on the grounds of Whitehaven. We weren’t able to tour the antebellum home as tours didn’t begin until the afternoon, but we did eat our snack on the gracious benches outside the back door. What a deal.

Then it was on east to more Interstate driving. We drove past the Kentucky and Cumberland Dams. These dams were interesting to drive over because of the lock system that both contained. The boys were reminded of Grandpa’s recent explanation of the lock system through the Panama Canal. This was an opportunity to see a lock up close and personal.

And then we drove. And we drove. And we drove some more. And this time, the boys were not tired. They did not nap. It was brutal. Our lunch stop wasn’t even very interesting. It was a roadside service station parked on an asphalt and cement oasis in the middle of the divided highway. Definitely nothing to write home about.

After four long hours on the road, we reached Hodgenville, Kentucky and the Abraham Lincoln Birthplace on Sinking Spring Farm. This probably would have been a pretty neat experience had we not just finished a 6 hour drive.

The boys, who were extremely cranky, wanted to do the junior ranger program – but didn’t want to take the time to do the work required. This created several heated discussions about making decisions and, once made, committing to a task.

We attempted to lighten the mood by going on one of the shorter hikes around the park. A little time among God’s creation – we spotted several gray squirrels and paused to watch a small woodpecker – worked some of its magic. Because of the hike, the boys were able to relax and learn a few things.

For example, my oldest was surprised to learn the Association that created the park had among it’s membership several famous Americans: Samuel Clemons (a.k.a. Mark Twain) and President Taft just to name two. We had fun counting the penny display in the visitor center lobby. Using some third grade math skills, my oldest and I estimated it contained around 14,000 pennies. We also learned interesting things about how Abraham Lincoln grew up, how many brothers and sisters he had and that the Holy Bible was the first book that little Abe ever saw (it was on display). We learned that on February 12, 2009 the nation will celebrate the 200th anniversary of the birth of our 16th President.

Outside of the visitor’s center, we enjoyed going to the bottom of the sinking spring. There was a noticeable, and much needed, drop in temperature on the way down. We sat at the bottom of this little area for about 10 minutes doing some of the junior ranger paperwork until we were chased out by another family. We also climbed the 56 steps (one for each year of Lincoln’s life) to the Memorial where a symbolic replica of the original Lincoln home is protected inside a granite memorial building. The building was created by the same man who did the Jefferson Memorial and the National Archives and looks very much like the architecture of the D.C. located Lincoln Memorial.

We did the final crossword, sent dad and our youngest on a mission to find the answer the final question by the spring and the boys went to the ranger station to get their official, plastic, junior ranger badge. The ranger was a good guy and did a good job getting the boys to laugh and smile.

And then, we were off -- again. After a short stop at Lincoln’s childhood home at Knob Creek – and the place of his earliest memories, we turned south to Mammoth Cave.

We ate dinner at tourist trap central in Cave City and headed on into the park to our hotel. A long day ended in Room number 159 facing the woods. We have a small balcony with a couple of chairs facing a quiet, dark peaceful wood. The room is serviceable, much like last night’s except with the addition of a much needed refrigerator. As I write, the boys are in bed and we are quietly watching the weather channel on TV.

I believe that we are all thankful that we will be doing lots of things tomorrow – but one of them will NOT be driving.