Turkey Home - a weekend on the Pinhoti Trail.

“The mountains are calling and I must go”. I’ve been feeling that for a while now. Not the call to the rugged mountains of Las Cruces, or the arid mountains of Big Bend, but the mountains and the forests of the East Coast.  I miss the Appalachian Mountains and their green tunnels and the coats of many colors that their trees wear.  Alas, the next section of the AT that I want to hike is a 8.5 hour drive away, so I settled on somewhere closer to home - The Pinhoti Trail. 

With a few weeks of research, I had a backpack full of all I would need for 2-3 days on trail, and three options for where I would hike.  I finished work at 3pm on Thursday and, with Good Friday off, a three day weekend lay ahead.  I left home around 3:15pm on Thursday, and hit the road. With stops, what should have been an under four hour drive turned into a five hour drive, and I arrived at the Pinhoti Outdoor Center after dark. After seeing photos online of groups of hikers sitting around a fire, playing guitar and talking, arriving to a quiet, dark hostel was unexpected and a little unsettling. Nevertheless, I parked my car and went to check out the hostel, having received a text from the owner earlier in the evening with the key code.

The Pinhoti Outdoor Center

As I walked towards the door, I could see two people standing by their vehicle in the dark. I said hello and we started to chat. They were mother and son, Christina and Jac (pronounced like Jac Cousteau), and they were waiting on Kimm (one of the hostel owners) to arrive, to shuttle them to their starting point. They were heading out to get in a couple of miles in the dark, before setting up camp for the night and continuing on tomorrow.  We went inside and checked the place out, then chatted outside while we waited for Kimm.  When she arrived, we had been discussing my phobia of being attacked in a tent, and she told me that staying at the hostel nightly was an option, and just day hiking. Although it would cost extra in shuttle fees, it put my mind at ease and, when they left, I settled down in my car for the night and started to adjust my plans, and my pack contents.

After an uneventful night, I woke up refreshed and got ready for Kimm to arrive to shuttle me to my starting point. I had decided to hike a 12 mile section of the trail, from Trammel Trailhead at mile 31.6 to Bulls Gap at mile 43.4, so when she arrived we both drove to Bulls Gap parking area, left my car there, and Kimm drove me back to Trammel Trailhead and dropped me off.

I started out around 8:50am, through a relatively gentle rolling forest, with the sun shining through the trees and the birds singing around me. I soon settled into the solitude, and with every step my mind cleared a little more and my body let go of the stress of everyday life.  After a couple of miles, I reached FS road 675 and had to check my app to see which way to go, as the trail signs were unclear. The trail on the red clay dirt road led me north, and I stopped along the way and made coffee, determined to give myself more breaks on this hike than I usually tend to allow.  Coffee drunk, and pack back on, I headed up the trail, and before long found myself back in the woods, with the birds.  Wildflowers bloomed along the sides of the trail, in pinks, whites and purples - Spiderwort was everywhere, and for a good stretch the forest floor appeared to be blanketed with huckleberry flowers. I stopped to take pictures a lot, and just to breathe deeply and stretch, enjoying every second of the adventure.

My only minor concern was that none of the spots noted on my app as being water sources had, so far, shown signs of water. However, as I approached the cell tower around mile 37, I saw a water cache had been left on the side of the trail. Two gallon jugs, each half full (or empty).  I refilled one of my half liter bottles and continued down the narrow concrete road, used as access for the cell tower. Before long, the blue blazes on the trees indicated a turn, and the trail headed once more back into the forest and away from the reminders of the world outside the trees.

Around 1pm, I was thinking about Christina and Jac, and how far they had made it the night prior. From where they had begun last night, and I had begun today, we should cross paths at some point during the day as we were hiking towards each other.  Just minutes after the thought, I looked up and saw Jac coming towards me, with his mom not far behind. We greeted each other and quickly decided it was a good time for a snack break, so we made ourselves comfortable on some fallen tree trunks, and snacked and ate for a good while. They were great company, and I really enjoyed the conversation while we ate. We bade each other safe travels, and headed away from each other, hoping to re-connect either the following day on trail, or else at the POC at some point. Sadly, our paths did not cross again, but I still may reach out via the POC to connect with Christina - she took a lovely photo of the three of us before we parted ways, and I’d love a copy.

The hours passed, I felt content; although the elevation wasn’t as easy as earlier in the day and Rebecca Mountain had been quite the challenge, my body still felt good and my feet were in great shape.  I had started the morning at 952 feet elevation, and after 9 miles and a couple of miles of never-ending

switchbacks, the trail had led me to a beautiful lookout point at 1470 feet. I dropped my pack, removed my shoes and socks, and sat to enjoy the view and another snack. I was wishing I had brought my tent, this would be a beautiful view to wake up to…

I got back on trail and with only 3 miles to go, started to feel the tiredness in my legs, but still no blisters and no knee pain.  There were rolling hills those last few miles, but Bulls Gap at 1189 feet was not too far to descend from the ridge line I’d been on most of the afternoon.  With the trees not yet wearing their spring leaves, I had amazing views for most of ridge line. Even on the way up Rebecca Mountain, there were views in one direction or another and, once I reached the ridge, there were expansive views to both sides of the hills and valleys below.

I find hiking to be a type of meditation for me, my mind clears and my only thoughts are my next steps and my immediate surroundings. This hike was no different. For nine hours I walked, and my only thoughts were of sounds of the forest, the new spring growth on the forest floor around me, and the steps ahead of me. With only a mile or so to go, I reached an outcropping of rocks, and sat down again to take in the view. There was a small fire ring snuggled between some of the boulders, and a few small flat areas covered in a blanket of pine straw, and once again I wondered if I shouldn’t have gone ahead and brought my tent - it would have been a beautiful spot to spend the night.

I eventually packed up and moved on, and too long after, came around a turn and saw a road down the hill in front of me. I descended towards the road, and saw the parking lot on the other side, and my car waiting for me.  There was a gentleman cleaning off after his 42 mile bike ride, and we chatted awhile, before I continued on past the parking lot to an overlook 1/10th of a mile further on.  I sat and enjoyed the view, and the satisfaction of having completed a 12 mile day with two hours of sunlight to spare and no blisters.

Back at the car, I chatted once more with the bike rider, who told me of another great spot for sunsets, and then we wished each other a good evening and, with exhaustion now setting in, I drove back to the POC for the night. When I arrived, there were four new people - Ben, Rob, Joseph and Li’l Bo Peep aka Molly - at the hostel for the night. After some pleasant conversations and comparing notes on our day on trail, they all left for dinner “in town” and, with the hostel to myself, I opened a cold Coke and took a shower, then

sat on the picnic bench outside and made my dinner, before retiring to my bed in my car, to watch the sunset through the open back window and catch up with my dad, my mum and my boys.

I heard voices after a while, and popped my head out of the back window to say hello. It was Nathan, Kimm’s husband and the other owner of the POC Hostel.  He came over to chat, and gave me some suggestions for Saturday’s hike. His 50th birthday party was on Saturday also, so shuttles would be difficult, but he said he had a friend (“Last Minute”) coming into town for the party who also wanted to get in around ten miles, and offered to connect us, so we could work it out with our cars. Later that evening, with some informational texts, and a digital introduction, a plan was made and I prepared for bed, put on a movie, then slept off and on for the next ten hours.

Day 2 - 

After waking up several times in the night with knee pain, I honestly thought the idea of a ten mile day was probably not such a good one, and even at 5am I was thinking I may just have to cancel and find a shorter out and back hike to do. However, after a couple of Ibuprofen, some stretching and a few more hours sleep, I woke up feeling refreshed and with no pain. Outside the hostel, I was greeting with a cheery good morning from Joseph, who wanted to see my car camping setup.  I gave him the tour, and then Molly joined, also wanting to see. Ben and Rob came out and said goodbye, they were getting back on the road to Michigan.

Last Minute joined me and we solidified our plan for the day. I immediately got a great vibe from him, he seemed very laid back and peaceful, and he was comfortable to be around. We prepared our gear, then headed off in both cars to the nearby Stewartville Cafe and grabbed breakfast biscuits to go. Following the pins Nathan had sent us for car drop off and start points, we went and first dropped his car off at our finishing point, then headed to the starting point and left my car there. I told him how slow I hike -  the trail name “Tortoise” is highly appropriate - and told him I was happy to hike alone if he wanted to take off ahead and either wait at the car or go clean up and come back later for me. However, he tactfully told me he’d be happy to hike on if I prefer to hike solo, or would be fine with hiking together. We agreed to hike together, on the understanding that since he had a timeline in mind - he had to get back to the hostel and clean up ready for Nathan’s birthday party - at any point he needed to speed up and leave me, we would figure out an alternate plan.

We hit the trail and after a short time came across “Kimm’s Camp”, a lovely campsite with a picnic table next to a creek, and a postbox with a trail log in it.  We signed the trail log, and went on our way. After what seemed like an endless uphill, we stopped for a break. I told Last Minute that if that was Terrapin Hill, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. It turned out that was NOT Terrapin Hill. Terrapin Hill was still ahead of us, and was much worse! 

We got into a rhythm, where we would walk together and chat on the downhill or flat sections of trail, and on the uphills he would go ahead, most times finding a nice place to sit at the top where he would wait for me, and then we would sit and chat and snack for a short while, before moving on.  The weather was perfect, the sky blue and cloudless, and the suns rays found their way through the branches of the trees to land on us below.  The smell of warm pine straw on the forest floor (and trail) permeated the air, and the breeze was gentle enough that it didn’t affect us in the woods, but refreshed us on the treeless hilltops.

We crossed multiple creeks, hopping across strategically placed rocks and logs, and even crossed one via a downed tree trunk, where Last Minute filmed my crossing for posterity. At one point, we lost the trail where a culvert had seemingly washed out and we couldn’t cross the creek, so we followed the orange ties on the trees for a while, assuming they were markers for an alternate route. We soon realized that they were not, and we were heading due north away from the trail. Checking our map, we weighed our options, and decided to continue on our current path, which would lead us to a forest road, then follow the road to a point where it almost intersected again with the trail, and pick up the trail there.

We made it to the road, and turned left, watching the map to see where we needed to head back into the woods to find the trail. We found the closest point, and started bushwhacking through the undergrowth and brambles. I made a mental note to check myself carefully later for ticks. As we made our way through the trees, all of a sudden there was a burst of activity to our left, and we looked across only to see a wild turkey flapping out of the brush and into the air, away from these humans who had invaded it’s territory. I’m not sure who was more startled, me or the turkey. Soon we found the trail and continued on our way.

For a while the trail runs through a canyon, parallel to a creek; this section is so peaceful and beautiful, I

would have loved to have stopped and stayed awhile, soaking my achy feet in the cold stream. Alas, we had several miles left and not so much time. Terrapin Hill had just about taken all my energy, and the PUDS (pointless ups and downs) never seemed to end, even after descending the steep southern side of Terrapin.  My IT band issues had by now returned with a fiery vengeance, and I had resorted to hiking the downhills sideways like a crab to avoid the pain.  

We passed a clearing filled with lush green grass, with the sun blazing down on it, like an oasis. It looked like a perfect spot for an afternoon nap, although sadly it was probably home to chiggers and ticks. We stopped instead at the top of a dirt road, and rested for a few minutes. As the endless ascents and descents continued, my knees begged for flat areas and, when they came, I made up lost time and enjoyed the absence of knee pain. We came to the bottom of a steep dirt road at one point, and I told him “if that’s the way we have to go, I’m staying right here. I’m done”. Thankfully, he noticed a left turn and went ahead to scout for blue blazes. After looking at the map, I followed, and soon found myself at the top of a grassy hill with a stunning view of the tree line to the south, nicknamed on the trail app as “Sunny’s View”. I’m not sure who Sunny is, but they definitely have a great view from here.

We descended back into the depths of the forest, once again following the path along the pine needle covered trail. We had passed a few other hikers throughout the day, two of them being a couple I’d met briefly Friday morning at the hostel, who were starting out at Flagg Mountain and making their way north.  During this final push, I was going so slow that another hiker going the same direction had caught up to me, and I allowed him to pass. His strides three times longer than mine, and his pace many times faster, he mumbled a hello and was soon out of sight.

By this time, my whole body ached. My knees were full on throbbing, my shoulders were aching from pulling myself uphill with my hiking poles, and my whole body was just exhausted.  Thankfully, before too long, I crested a hill and looked down to see the road, and Last Minute standing at the car. I have never been so happy to see a road! I removed my pack and put it in the trunk, then collapsed into the passenger seat and breathed a sigh of relief, as we headed back to my car.

Returning to the hostel, Last Minute went to get ready for the party, and I hurriedly removed my shoes and socks, and collapsed onto my bed to make a couple of calls home. While I was on the phone, another hiker came over to chat, and shortly after I went to join her at the picnic tables. Her name was Fireball. Not, as you would expect, from a story involving alcohol, but because she had made a mistake early on in her Pinhoti journey, which had resulted in her gas canister exploding into a ball of fire!

While we chatted, the couple from Friday morning who I had passed on the trail today, came walking up the road to the hostel, and collapsed onto the bench outside. We exchanged stories of trail beauty and exhaustion, and I cooked my dinner while Fireball went to clean up. Eventually, I was able to take a shower and wash my hair, then retired to my car to lie down and watch the sunset, while I reflected on the past two days.

In all, over two days I had hiked 22 miles, with a total of almost 3700 ft in elevation gain. I was aching, and exhausted, but also satisfied and content, and quite proud of myself. I had met some lovely people, and had been given a taste of the Pinhoti Trail community I had read about online, a community of like-minded people who love this trail, and have a passion for nature and the outdoors. For me, I couldn’t help but compare the trail to my first love - the Appalachian Trail - but the comparison was not a negative. I found the Pinhoti to be every bit as beautiful as the AT, but with less elevation, fewer mountains, and less total miles, it felt like the AT’s much gentler, easier cousin. 

I went to sleep achy but happy, and slept like a log for ten hours straight. I woke up to another beautiful sunshine filled day, and blue skies, and took my time to move. I made coffee and ate breakfast, stretched and listened to the birds. I eventually went inside and left a note in the hostel guest book, and said goodbye to this peaceful sanctuary that I had called home for three days. When I was about to get ready to leave, Last Minute came to say goodbye. We chatted about the party last night, and wished each other safe travels with a hug. Then I headed out onto the highway for a four hour drive home, with perfect weather and my window down.

I felt peaceful as I drove, and it was a long time before I even turned on the radio, just lost in the scenery and allowing the memories made over the last few days to sink in, as I replayed my favorite trail moments in my mind to make sure I never forget them.  What a wonderful place to have recharged my soul. Thank you Pinhoti Trail, I will be back.

Section Hike #4

For the last 3 months, I have been planning my fourth section hike of the Appalachian Trail.  My first was in October 2015, then in May 2016, and back again in October 2016.  In summer 2017, I moved to Florida and the mountains were no longer a 2 hour drive away.  This summer though, I have felt the pull of the trail.  There is something very special about the Appalachian Trail.  Well, there are many special things about it but, outside of the obvious natural beauty, the majestic mountain views, the people of the trail, there is also something unseen, intangible and magical, the thing that pulls you back even after the most painful, miserable hike of your life has you saying you'll never do that again.  I've said that four times in my life now, and each time I've gone home and started planning the next hike!  

This time I planned to start Saturday afternoon at Hog Pen Gap (mile 38) and hike to either Tray Gap (mile 56.7) or Dick's Creek Gap (mile 69).  I thought Tray Gap was more realistic and, in my planning, arranged a shuttle driver to meet me there to return me to car at the end of the hike on Monday afternoon.  So, over the last few weeks I printed and studied my guides and my maps, booked the day off work, arranged for my mom to watch my kids and dog, and got my gear prepared.  I was as ready as I could be.  So, I got up at 5am on Saturday morning and headed north.  Six and a half hours later I was driving up and down mountain roads, surrounded by the glorious fall colors of the changing leaves, having my breath taken away at every turn.  

When I went back to the mountains in October 2016 for my
third section hike, I drove around a corner at some point
and there were my mountains in all their glory.  I felt over-
whelmed with emotion and words, and pulled over to the side
of the road to write this on a note on my phone.

I was filled with emotion, the feeling of "coming home", the way I always feel when I get that first glimpse of these mountains.

At 1.15pm, I pulled up to Hog Pen Gap parking lot, changed shoes, strapped my pack on, stretched, and got started.  The sun was shining, it was cool but pleasant, and I grinned when I saw my first white blaze a few minutes in.  This was going to be home for the next 48 hours or so.

The first few miles of this section are uneventful, there are no jaw-dropping views, no major elevation changes, but I was mesmerized by the colors.  There were so many different shades of green, orange, red, yellow and brown.  The trail was a patchwork of colors, with the occasional dry leaves mixed in, crunching underfoot as I walked.  

I stopped a couple of times to get a snack, or adjust my pack, but mostly just kept walking at a leisurely pace for the first few hours.  I was feeling good when I reached Low Gap Shelter, and took the side trail to the shelter to eat my lunch and refill my water bottles. Two smiling faces greeted me as I descended towards the shelter.  Chris was sitting at the picnic table eating, and Sidney was in the shelter eating.  They greeted me and we introduced ourselves while we ate, and I refilled my water bottles.  Chris was a local, out for the solitude for a couple of days.  Sidney, like me, had driven 7 hours to the trail, but from Missouri.  He had hiked south to the shelter and was heading back north and home the next day.  I finished eating, fixed my hot spots (places I know I usually get blisters) with tape, adjusted my shoes again, and headed back up the hill to the trail.  I have no idea why I didn't take pictures of Low Gap Shelter area, but I wish I had.  It's like the setting of a Thomas Kincade painting - a low grassy area surrounded by mountainsides, with a shelter, a picnic bench, and a stream running through it - picture perfect! 

When I hit the trail again, it was about 4.30pm.  The sun was due to set at 6.38pm and I only had two miles to go to my planning camping spot at Poplar Stamp Gap.  When I planned this stop, I had a vision in my mind of how the area would look, and for some reason I envisioned it on the west/left side of the trail, just past a larger camping area on an old logging road.  Well, I never saw a logging road, but I saw a campsite on the east side of the trail, and there were already a couple of tents there.  The campers and I exchanged hellos and I kept walking, looking for Poplar Stamp Gap, knowing my site was just after it a half mile.  Obviously, I passed another site a short time later, with room for one tent, and there were a couple setting up their tent there.  Again, we exchanged pleasantries and I kept walking.  Shortly afterwards, once again headed downhill, I realized my elevation didn't match up to where I believed I was.  I stopped and checked my maps and guides and, sure enough, I realized that I had made it to Poplar Stamp Gap quicker than I expected, and that first site I had passed was it.  I considered that I only had an hour to find a spot and set up before the daylight was gone, and started to panic.  I was about to backtrack that mile, but my gut instinct kicked in and I stopped to breathe.  I felt certain there would be another site ahead of me, although there was not one in my guide. I considered my options, and went with my gut. I hadn't passed anyone walking the other way for a couple of hours now, so I decided I would walk ahead and, if I didn't find a site in the next 30 minutes, I would set up right there on the trail before the sun was gone.

So, with renewed determination, I picked up the pace and kept going.  About 10 minutes later, I walked around a bend and saw it - the perfect site.  A nice, small clear area, with patches of moss, a fire pit, valleys on both sides of it, a mountainside in front of it, and a short trail/ridgeline extending behind it.  I walked around the site for a few minutes and it felt good, it felt right.  Without rushing, I had my tent up, a fire lit, dinner cooking and a bear rope hung, all before the sun went down. 

Even after the sun went down, I sat by the fire a while, enjoying it's warmth.  I had changed into dry, thermal layers for the night and it felt cozy by the fire.  The wind was blowing in the trees towering above me, but I was protected at this lower elevation and didn't feel it, just heard it in the constant howling and rustling though the leaves.  I finished my tea, got myself ready for bed, climbed into my sleeping bag, and lay there watching the fire die down.  After a while, I zipped my tent up (usually my moment of panic when I feel vulnerable and defenseless), snuggled into my bag, put in one headphone and put some music on low.  I felt calm, and not scared at all, which was unexpected.  There was a peace in knowing that the nearest road was 7 miles in one direction and 8 miles in the other, and that all other hikers out there were already settled into their own nests for the night.  I started to drift off to sleep, but woke up shortly after, shivering.  The wind had really picked up and the temperatures had really dropped.  The forecast was for 39F, but with the wind, I believe it was right around freezing or just above.  I pulled out my clothes bag and added another underlayer, and put on my gloves and puffy coat.  I now had four layers of clothing on, plus handwarmers in my bag, and another down blanket tucked into my bag as a liner.  I eventually dozed off but not for long.  I woke with a start to a light outside my tent!  I froze, grabbed my knife in one hand and my trekking pole in the other, and lay there holding my breath for what seemed like eternity.  Until I realized... it was my headlamp.  I had my headlamp on over my woolly hat and had turned over in my sleep and bumped the on/off button against my backpack that was by my head.  I freaked myself out with my own headlamp!!!  When I realized that I relaxed, but then I was cold again and I basically spent the rest of the night just laying there with my eyes closed, wishing for sleep that never came.  

I must have dozed off at some point, because I woke up to the light of the sun shining in through the tent by my head.  The wind was howling and it was bitterly cold, but I opened the door to see the sunrise, and wasn't disappointed.  It had just risen over the horizon and was gleaming through the trees, transforming their yellow leaves into a bath of warm gold.

I wasn't quite ready to leave the relative warmth of my tent, so I tied the door open and made some coffee, then lay back down for a while looking at the colors of the leaves changing as the sun made it's way slowly into the sky.  Every moving ray hit the leaves at different angles, and I felt like I was being treated to my very own private production from Mother Nature.  It was a moment to remember.

I eventually finished my second cup of coffee, washed up, and changed clothes, and began packing up.  It was difficult to leave the tent and I was frozen by the time I'd pulled down by bear bag and loaded up to leave.  I said goodbye to my special spot and promised I'd visit again on my way to Maine one day.  Then I headed north in the blustery wind.  I soon came across a small stream, and stopped to refill both my water bottles, which had been depleted from dinner, tea, and coffee this morning.  

I wasn't in pain, since I have long since learned to stretch at every opportunity and have kept my legs pretty strong by using the elliptical at the gym, but my heel blisters were bothering me, despite wrapping them BEFORE they began to blister and re-taping them before leaving camp.  My second toes are longer than my big toes, so they were hurting a little from the downhill areas, but not badly (my shoes are a full size larger than my normal shoes to account for swelling and this). My collarbones were a little tender from the bag straps but not unbearable.  So I kept walking.

A little while after crossing the stream, I started on a long gentle ascent to Chattahoochee Gap.  This area was vibrant with colors, and being on a ridgeline, afforded mountain vistas to both my left and right.  I had stopped to take it all in and record a video, when I heard a rustle of leaves on the trail behind me and a voice called out "good morning Tina!".  It was Sidney, he had risen early and was headed back to his car to go home to Missouri.  We walked together a while, discussing the temperatures, the terrain, and our plans.  Then he bade me goodbye and good luck and went on ahead.  

Valentine's Day ponderings

It is often assumed that single people live without love. That by not having a significant other, they must be missing something drastically important.  People look at me a certain way when I say I'm single, and oftentimes they will offer condolences such as "the right one will come along some day". The more I tell them I am actually okay with being single, the more pity I see in their eyes and I can see them thinking "awww, she's trying to act brave".  For some of us though, we really do mean it when we say we are just fine being single.

Don't get me wrong, living life with a partner you love is a wonderful thing!  However, living my life without a partner does not mean I hate men, or am avoiding relationships to avoid being hurt, or that I am unattractive or unworthy of a partner.  It certainly doesn't mean that I am living a life devoid of love.  I feel love all the time.  When I walk onto the beach and feel the sand in my toes, and hear and see the waves breaking, and smell the ocean saltiness, I feel love.  When I drive to the mountains for a weekend hiking getaway and I get my first glimpse of the peaks rising out of the valleys in all their glory, I feel love.  When I walk down a street in New York City and my teenage son stops me and asks if we can go back and feed the homeless guy we just passed, I feel love.  When my youngest child asks if my heart is mended now, after I told him he hurt it when he acted up months ago, I feel love.  When something goes wrong and, without a single word, my mum feels what I feel, and cries along with me, feeling my pain like it's hers, I feel love.  

I've been single now for almost 7 years.  That does not mean seven "lonely" years, or seven years "without a man".  That means seven years of being with myself, learning about me, who I am, what I want out of life, and what I am passionate about.  You learn a lot about yourself when your choices are solely yours, without outside influence.  When you choose a movie to watch, that you are going to watch alone, you learn a little about yourself.  When you can put any CD of thousands in the player, the one you choose tells you a little more about who you are.  When you have a day off, sans kids, and can do anything or go anywhere, your choices speak volumes. In 7 years, I have learned that some things I just "sort of" liked before, when allowed to pursue them on my own terms, are actually huge passions of mine!  I have found new things I love, and I have let old hobbies die by the wayside, realizing that I didn't care too much for them in the first place and only did them because they were part of a relational hobby.  It's been 7 years of revelations, experimentation, and SELF love, and I've enjoyed the journey.

I came across someone recently who seriously made me contemplate the idea of a relationship. The little I learned about him showed that he and I would be compatible.  He had all the qualities I like in a person (and of course on closer inspection may have had qualities I did not like, but I didn't get that far).  I bring this up not because I have suddenly decided I want a relationship, but because it is nice to know that I am 100% content to be alone on this path, but not completely opposed to possibly sharing the path with someone in the future, if the person happens upon the same path I'm on.  I truly believe in destiny and karma, and I believe that if something is meant to be, it will be.  Maybe I am meant to be single for the rest of my life, and I'm okay with that (I have a LOT to do and see). Maybe I'm meant to meet someone further down the path, when my kids no longer need nor want my attention and time.  Either way, I'm happy and living my life, with love.

So, for those of you who are single... take this time to learn about yourself and find out what makes you happy, and enjoy it!

For those of you who are married, or in a relationship... HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Climbing mountains and slaying demons

At 1am on Saturday morning, I lay in bed, pretty certain I was going to bail on my plans to go hiking on the Appalachian Trail later that day.  In the quiet of night, all my fears were given room to rise to the surface - I was going to be alone in the wilderness, with mountains to climb, bears to eat me, potential murderers and, somehow, I was going to die while I slept.  Who in their right mind would be stupid enough to take a risk like that?  I eventually drifted off to sleep and woke to my alarm at 6.30am.  Sometime during my sleep, the fears had sunk down back into the depths of me and the day now looked promising.  I packed my last minute items, snuggled my little man and then tucked him in bed with grandma, hugged my big one, and headed out for a 2 hour drive to the North Georgia mountains.

I was calm as I drove in silence.  The music I usually love to listen to whilst driving was silenced, as I listened to my own thoughts.  The sun rose as I drove north and I watched the world wake around me.  Before I knew it, I had pulled into Woody Gap parking lot and could see my shuttle driver looking for me.  I pulled up and Sally confirmed who I was, then showed me where I could leave my car.  I locked the car, threw my breakfast leftovers into a bear bin, used the restroom, dropped my backpack and trekking poles in the trunk and hopped into Sally's car.

Hog Pen Gap - where it begins!

Sally was a joy!  She stopped by a viewing overlook and took a photo of me "pre-hike" with the beautiful Georgia fall colors in the background.  She was easy going and a joy to chat with, as she drove me 40 minutes north to my starting point.  As I strapped my pack on, she gave me a hug, directed me to the entrance to the trail, and wished me luck!  I crossed the road, took a photo of the elevation sign, and took my first steps on to the Appalachian Trail.

My first white blaze!

Within a minute or two, I spotted my first "white blaze" - the official marker along the length of the entire Appalachian Trail.  I stopped, snapped a pic, and a huge grin broke out on my face!  I was really on the Appalachian Trail! This was actually happening!  With a spring in my step, I headed up the hill and started my hike.  At the top of the hill, less than a mile into the hike, I took a left onto a side trail that leads to Whitley Gap Shelter - the guides I had read told me there was a breathtaking view from the halfway point.  I walked along the narrow path, with thick shrubs on both sides, and wondered if I should even carry on - it was adding another mile round trip onto my already projected 9 miles for the day and it was dark in there, like a tunnel.  As I was about to turn around, I saw a bright spot ahead.  I walked up and found a rock outcrop and, looking up, saw the most breathtaking view.

The breathtaking view from the trail to Whitley Gap Shelter

The sun shining across mountains and valleys with trees in every range of yellow, orange, red, and green you can imagine, and complete silence.  There were two women sitting on the rock to my left and they said something to me.  I opened my mouth to speak and choked up instead, I couldn't even speak.  One of the women said she's had the exact same reaction her first time out there, and that it was pretty normal to get overwhelmed by the beauty.  I stood and soaked it in for a few minutes, had a chat with the women, then turned back towards the AT.  I heard someone coming up behind me, and stood aside to let them by.  It was a rather large, unkempt gentleman with a backpack twice the size of mine, substantial facial hair and a very determined stride.  He didn't break stride as he wished me good morning and asked whether I was headed north or south. I got on the trail behind him, and told him I was going south, and he told me he was headed north and then rolled off a list of trails, towns, cities and countries he had hiked and where he was going next.  Then, just like that, he was gone!  I had my first encounter with a true hiker.  No sooner had his hulking form disappeared, I heard a clanging sound approaching me from behind.  I once again stepped aside as three men and a woman passed me, all laden down with large packs, one with a couple of pots hanging (and clanging) off the outside, and the same look of determination on their faces as the first man.  They bade me good morning, and asked which direction I was heading.  (Do you see a pattern emerging here?).  I told them I was heading to Neels Gap, and they said they were too and they would probably see me later.  

I returned to the trail intersection and headed south.  It was pleasant, the weather was a perfect sunny 68 degrees, and the trail was mostly downhill.  I absorbed it all - the forest sounds, the birds, the squirrels and chipmunks, the amazing colors of the changing leaves, and even wondered if I might see a bear.  I made sure to walk noisily just in case, which wasn't difficult since the trail was covered in dry leaves, and my hiking poles clacked as I walked.  When I approached an area that seemed more secluded or where the trees/scrub was thicker, I sang (although - oddly - I found, on several occasions, that I couldn't remember the words to some of my favorite songs).  A little way down the trail, I came up on a large group of young adults/late teens.  I stopped to chat, exchanged good mornings, and direction intentions.  They were college students from Toccoa College and they were also heading to Neels Gap.  I bid them good luck and carried on.  

At this point, I was absolutely in my element and completely happy and content.  I was in the mountain wilderness of Georgia, alone, but also had a group of 4 hikers ahead of me, and a group of 10 behind me, all heading to the same place.  As I approached a rock clearing about 2 hours in, I ran into the group of 4 again.  I sat down and immediately one of the 4 offered me some of his beef jerky.  I declined, and offered him half of my now completely flattened sub.  We chatted and ate, and took in the amazing view.  I actually got phone service there, and managed to call mum and the boys and update them on my morning, and my safety.  I'm sure Mum was very relieved to know I had two groups sandwiching me on my solo journey.  As my new friends and I packed up, took a couple more photos of the view, and donned our packs, the college group came up and sat down to eat.  They were asking me about hiking alone, and where I was from, and other stuff, so my friends (who I knew now were from Tallahassee) went ahead and I stayed behind chatting for a while.  I told the college group about the concerns I had had before I started out, and they reassured me that they would be behind me all the way to Neels Gap and not to worry (although by that time I wasn't really worried any more).

A little while later, I came around a bend and saw 3 of my 4 Florida friends up ahead on the trail.  As I approached, I could see the 4th person was down a side trail to the right, refilling everyone's water bottles from a spring, through his hand pumped filter.  I lay my pack down and he quickly took my water bottles and filled them too.  Again we sat and talked a while and then, confidence at a high, I continued ahead of them.  It didn't last for long.  The descent into Tesnatee Gap was so steep that I stopped at the bottom, just trying to let my jelly legs stop shaking, and trying to figure out where the trail reentered the woods across the parking lot.  As I stood there, they caught up to me and we figured it out.  I never did see the college group again, but I caught up to the Florida group several times, and the beef jerky guy even hung back and hiked with me a couple of times, letting his friends go ahead. At some point in the day, between sweaty, panting uphills, and jelly legged downhills, we met again.  Florida surfer dude once again lagged behind to walk with me, by which time he had dubbed me "tortoise" (guess I got my trail name).

I walked, I listened to the forest, I basked in the beauty of the amazing fall colors, I stopped and ate, or got water, and I didn't even keep track of the time.  As I walked, I saw a weird building down an embankment to my right, then a brick building peeking out between the trees ahead of me.  I was disoriented for a minute, until I realized I'd made it to my destination - Mountain Crossings at Walasi-Yi at Neels Gap!  I was so excited!  I had originally planned this hike to come through Mountain Crossings, as the AT goes right through the buildings, and it has a hostel with bunk beds, which I thought I could use if my fear of camping alone got the better of me.  

The AT runs through Walasi-Yi

I had heard of this place many times over the last few months - it's famous in the world of AT hikers.  Walasi-Yi is the first major stop for all northbound thru-hikers (hikers going from Georgia to Maine in one 4-6 month long hike) and all of the staff have thru-hiked the AT at least once.  Here, thru-hikers stop and get a bunk and warm food, but also a shake down of their pack.  This basically means they have had long enough on the trail to see how it feels to hike with 30-50 lbs on their backs, and they have tested their hiking shoes/boots, and a staff member goes through their belongings with them and they weed out all of the unneeded items to decrease the pack weight.  They also dump any shoes that were no good on the trail, and buy new, better ones at the shop at Mountain Crossings.  They can then leave the excess items in a "hiker box" for other hikers who may need something, or they can box it up and ship it to their home.  The shoes... for some... get thrown up into the shoe tree.  

The "shoe tree" at Walasi-Yi

I had been told I would run into some great people here, I was hoping to run into some Southbound thru-hikers here (SOBOs), and I was, of course, hoping to catch up with my Florida friends here.  Sadly, I ran into none of the above, and even the college group behind me didn't show up at any point while I was there.

I had a look around the store, chatted with and got some advice from the staff, and I was thankful to find cold Coke and moleskin blister tape.  I unloaded my pack, sat down, enjoyed the views and a few chats, and pondered what to do now.  The only campground was a small patch of grass on a slope very close to the parking lot, and I did not want to camp there alone (the general guidelines out there state to not camp within a mile of a road/trailhead for safety reasons).  I was in a predicament.  By this time I had decided I did NOT want a bunk in the hostel, but camping at Mountain Crossings wasn't an option either.  I went inside and asked one of the staff if there were campsites between there and the summit of Blood Mountain (2.1 miles away).  Talking to him, I learned that there is no camping between Neels Gap and Blood Mountain Summit, nor is there any water.  The trail to the summit is made up of STEEP rocky inclines and there is no campground at the top, only at the bottom of the other side at Slaughter Creek.  It was 4.12pm. I had hiked for six hours and nine miles, I was exhausted, my calves felt like cannonballs, my thighs were on fire, I had three hours til dark, and a huge decision to make - alone.

So, I did what any crazy person would do, and made the decision to at least get to the summit of Blood Mountain! 

Blood Mountain 2.1 miles

I downed my Coke, used the restroom, put my pack back on and crossed the road to re-enter the AT and head to Blood Mountain.  The first half hour, although all uphill, was not too bad, relatively speaking.  The next 2 1/2 hours were absolute torture!  There's a standing joke that the trail managers who created and maintain the AT purposely chose the most difficult path possible, and routed the AT up and over every possible mountain, and never choosing the easiest route.  Halfway up Blood Mountain, I rounded a corner, saw nothing but giant boulders, looked again, and saw the white blaze, at which point I realized that the trail creators have indeed got a very sick sense of humor.  

White blazes on rocks

My thoughts were "THAT is the trail?", "I have to get over/around/through THAT?"  This happened over and over, but with breaks every 20 footsteps or so, I plodded on.  A couple of times I plopped down on a step or a rock, crying, telling myself I was done, before pulling myself together and hyping myself up to carry on.  I had no option but to get to the top before the sun went down, or I would be sleeping, tentless, in the middle of the trail, in a wilderness filled with bears.  If that's not motivation, I don't know what is.

Blood Mountain is a popular day visit location, so many people were passing me going down the mountain.  Every one of them asked where I was headed, and told me I was almost there.  One person would tell me I was maybe 15 minutes from the top, then the next person - 5 minutes later - would tell me I was almost there, only about 20 minutes to the top.  It was so disheartening.  Then, when I didn't think it could get any worse, I turned a corner and saw something that made my heart drop. 

Seriously?

I had to get up THERE, with the equivalent of a three year child on my back, no remaining energy, and legs like jelly? Ha! At this point I cussed every trail manager that ever had any part of creating the AT, until I ran out of cuss words and tears and, on all fours, painfully slowly crawled up this gigantic slice of mountain.  I kept myself going with the promise that this would mean I was at the top, and done!  I eventually made it up there, saw a few people sitting around and asked if this was the summit.  No, about 5 more minutes up.  You have got to be kidding me.  This was turning out to be the longest 2.1 miles I have ever walked in my life.  The next big flat area I found, I knew was the top.  People were sitting all over, watching the sun setting over the mountains.  I dropped my pack, sat down on the rock, and watched the sunset while I cried (seeing another pattern here?).  Someone asked me how far I'd come and where I was headed.  I told them I was headed here, to the summit, to SLEEP!  They looked at me with pity and said "sorry, but this isn't the summit, it's up there".  Noooo!!!!!  

I reluctantly put my pack back on and trudged up the rock, to the NEXT piece of rock and, boom, there was my summit.  I dropped my pack and just stood in awe as the sun started to disappear.  I will never forget how I felt at that moment, there aren't words.

Sunset from Blood Mountain summit - everything that came the following day was worth it, for this.

I felt like I was on top of the world, in more ways than one.  With an elevation of 4,459 ft, Blood Mountain stood proud in the middle of the mountains, looking down on them all.  It was breathtaking to look out and see only sky and clouds, yet down to see mountains.  I finally pulled myself together and spent 5 more minutes looking for a campsite, before I returned to the middle of the summit, and dropped my pack.  Yes, I was going to camp right there and I didn't care.  The sun was going down fast, so I got my tent up while my water boiled, changed into dry clothes, ate my dinner, drank some hot chocolate, hung my bear bag, and was in my sleeping bag before 8pm.  I didn't even realize how early it was until I got in my bag and got my phone out to recharge it!  I slept like a baby for the most part.  It was REALLY windy up there, which woke me a bunch of times, as well as waking up hot, but I didn't feel scared when I woke, which was awesome.  Of course, there were a lot of other people camping up there too, so I was pretty much surrounded by other hikers, which gave me a sense of security.  What a day that was!

Sunday morning, I was woken by the sound of voices right outside my tent.  I thought to myself "why would they decide to stand right by my head to have this conversation?", so I peeked out and it was a young couple, standing on a rock near me.  The apologized for waking me, but... and looked up.  I tried to climb out of my tent, but my legs wouldn't hold me, so I crawled/fell sideways onto the ground, stumbled up onto my doe legs, and inched over to them and turned to see where they were looking.  

Sunrise from Blood Mountain summit

The sun was JUST coming up.  The clouds had settled in the night, and were now below us, with mountain tops peeking through the tops of them.  The sun was glowing over it all, lighting up the areas between clouds like magic, and some other clouds continued to move down and across the mountain, so we were literally IN the clouds, touching them!  That was a really cool moment, realizing this wasn't smoke from a fire somewhere, but clouds moving around and past me!  

I put some water on to boil, made it down to the privy (hole in the ground with some wood paneling around it - a primitive toilet of sorts, and came back to watch the sun rise completely.  The guys camped next to me were already packed up and leaving, so I had one of them take my picture before they left.  Then I ate my breakfast and snuggled back in my bag with my cup of tea, relaxing until it was time to pack up.

My whole body hurt so bad, I could barely walk, and I had no idea how I was going to walk with my pack too, but I had no other options, so I loaded up and headed down the south face of Blood Mountain.  Thankfully, the south face is a lot less steep than the north, so it wasn't too bad of a descent.  

Slaughter Creek spring

Slaughter Creek campground area was really pretty, and I refilled my water bottles there from a flowing spring.  I ran into other hikers around every 30 minutes or so for a while.  The conversations were very similar.  "How are you doing?  Where are you coming from?  Where are you headed to?  How's water up ahead?  Enjoy your day! Happy hiking!"  Hikers are generally a bunch of really friendly people!  Then there came a spell when I didn't see anyone else for a couple of hours.  It became monotonous.  This stretch from Slaughter Creek to Big Cedar Mountain is beautiful, serene, rolling terrain with lots of squirrels, chipmunks and beautiful birds and flowers, and lots of trees (not many views though).  On another day, without a pack, I would have LOVED this hike.  However, on this day, I was exhausted and hurting, with blisters on my feet and painful toenails from the downhills, my pack wouldn't stay where I put it and was chafing my collarbones and hurting my hips, and the pack was also even heavier than the prior day because the tent, fly and footprint were now all wet and wrapped up in there.  

I took several breaks, just to rest, to eat, to take off my shoes and pour cold water over my achy feet.  Getting back up each time was a challenge, but I was so eager to get to my car and be done, that I had to keep going.  Those penultimate 3-4 miles took me about 4 hours.  I literally had to force myself to put one foot JUST in front of the other, count 50 or 100 steps, stop, drink some water, continue.  I was singing to myself "every day I'm shuffling, shuffling" and telling myself that even shuffling was moving, and that at least I was going forward.  Every time I saw a gentle downhill ahead, I got a second wind, picked up my trekking poles and picked up the speed.  Then I would see an uphill, and back to shuffling. 

The only view for miles on this stretch

At one point, I was glad to finally find a break in the trees and a nice view, and even happier when I realized I FINALLY had cell service there and could call home for the first time that day.

I started running into other hikers again mid afternoon.  I asked them all the same question "Did you come from Woody Gap?  How far is it?"  I got varying answers... "Oh, about half an hour back", "Oh, just a couple more miles", "Hmm, I think about a mile".  Despite several guesses from others, and two AT guides of my own, I still really had no idea how fast I was moving (probably averaging less than a mile an hour) and how far Woody Gap was.  My goal was to make it to the summit of Big Cedar Mountain, where I could rest, take off my shoes, and know with relief that my car was only 1.5 miles away down an incline.  I did start to notice that there were a steady increase in uphills, so I knew I was ON Big Cedar's ascent, but no idea how far up.  If I could have traded a pound of flesh for a ride out of there at that point, I would have gladly given it.  I was done, so very done.  I hurt everywhere, and I was so tired, I hated the trail, I hated these boots, I hated myself for doing this to myself.  

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... count to 50, stop, drink, breathe... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... then a young couple came bounding around a corner and beamed at me "Oh, you're almost there, it's right around the bend and so worth it" and, mercifully, this time they were right!

View from the summit of Big Cedar Mountain

I crept to an area of rock shaped like a seat and dropped my pack, tore off my shoes and socks and downed half a liter of water.  The teenage girls nearby came over and asked where I had come from.  We chatted a while, then a family came over and asked if I would mind taking their photo.  A group of very loud German men talked to my right, and a couple further down nearer the edge argued about whether his mom really likes her or is faking it, and I just sat there, grinning, thinking "My car is only a mile and a half away from here".  Knowing that, I relaxed, laid back and used my tent ground sheet as a pillow, then ate, and put new bandaids on my blisters.  It was 3.30pm and, knowing I'd be going downhill, I guessed I'd be in my car by 4.30pm.  So I packed up, and got back on the trail.  As I started out, another group came towards me up the trail, and warned me to be careful on the way down, and I soon saw why.  The first 1/2 mile or so was REALLY steep, with a lot of rock ledges/steps.  With jelly legs and a heavy pack, I was thankful for the 100th time this weekend, for my trekking poles to balance me.  They saved my butt so many times!  So, I walked, gently uphill, gently down, around another bend, still shuffling, listening for cars that would let me know I was getting near the road.  

Suddenly, I started seeing a lot more people, mostly people out for the day, with no packs, with their kids, with their dogs (dogs really like you when you're dirty and stinky btw, kids not so much), and I could now hear cars.  I almost sprinted the rest of the way, despite the pain.  I was beyond happy to find the sign that told me I was at Woody Gap and, once I took a photo and passed it, I saw my car in the lot ahead.  What a relief.  I dropped my pack in the car, changed into other shoes, and plodded across the street to where I started.  I ran into a couple I'd seen on my way to the top of Big Cedar and they both grinned and said "you made it!!!" and I start crying (again) and said "Yes! I did!".  I stood there for a few minutes, overlooking Woody Gap, and letting it sink it.  I did it, I really did it.  

Would I do it again?  An hour before finishing, I'd have said no way, never!  Now, I'm thinking about which section is next.  You can call me a sucker for punishment, I'll call myself "tortoise". :)

Woody Gap sign

~ LOVE ALL ~ SERVE ALL ~ CREATE NO SORROW ~

I became a Christian eleven years ago, on November 14th 2004 at 7.45am, after 29 years of being atheist/agnostic.

I have been on a journey the last few years, finding out who I am, learning what I love, what I enjoy, what I will and will not tolerate, and what my personal truths are.  This morning, after a long, personal internal battle, I acknowledged to myself that I am, once again, agnostic.

(It was a long journey because, despite my waning faith and increasing doubts, I've been scared to admit, even to myself, that I am once again agnostic, just in case God is real and my admission ticks Him off.  Although, if He is real, and omniscient, then He already knows, right?)

Why?

Because...

I have lost any faith I had in the power of prayer.  I could go into a lot of detail here, but the bottom line is this:  Either (a) prayers are not heard, or (b) praying IS heard and God answers some prayers and not others on a totally random basis, without any reasoning.  If prayer works, why have thousands of prayers over thousands of years, not yet provided rain or food in Africa, so children can stop dying from something as simple as starvation?  Yes, I've seen prayers answered, I've also seen prayers unanswered, and positive outcomes without any prayers at all.

I have lost any conviction that God (the God of Christianity) exists.  After many years of relying on my "faith" to believe in unproven truths, logic has won out.  Continuing to struggle to have faith in something you increasingly have no concrete reason to believe in, is a pointless activity.

I have been studying Hinduism as a possible alternative to Christianity. Ultimately I have found that it provides no more enlightenment than Christianity. As Hinduism is a polytheistic religion, it only compounds the idea of whether God exists, by providing multiple gods to worship.  I can definitely see why millions of believe follow this religion though - Mother Kali and Lord Shiva seem a lot more realistic, reachable, and personable than a God who, although omnipresent, cannot be defined or seen.

I no longer have confidence in what I believed.  From the beginning, seeds of doubt about Heaven, and what happens to us when we die, were present.  More and more, when I am asked (by my kids or otherwise) about what happens when we die, what Heaven is like, what praying does, or similar questions, I find myself mumbling "I'm not really sure" and changing the subject.  I am not really sure - that's the absolute truth.  If I cannot confidently answer my child, with full conviction in what I'm telling him, then my answer is as good as a lie.

I no longer believe the Holy Bible is the infallible word of God.  As a Christian, you are expected to accept that the Holy Bible is the infallible word of God.  You may not pick and choose what you believe but, instead, accept it all - as God's word.  I find it hard to accept a "holy" book that condemns homosexuals (Leviticus 18:22), tattoos (Leviticus 19:28) and women speaking in church (1 Corinthians 14:34), but condones polygamy (pretty much every book in the OT), infanticide (Psalm 137:9, Exodus 12:29), slavery (Exodus, Galatians, Colossians, Peter, Titus), and genocide (Deuteronomy 3:4-6).  I am also disillusioned by the number of "Christians" who do opt to pick and choose the parts of the Bible that they believe in.

I don't need Christianity to have morals.   I treat people how I would like to be treated.  I help others less fortunate than me if I am able.  I feed the homeless.  I rescue injured animals.  I try to make other people happy.  I try not to hurt people's feelings.  I did these things before I was a Christian, while I was a Christian, and will continue to do these things as long as I am alive and able. Not because my religion directs me to do them, but because they are the right thing to do, regardless of religion. 

God gets all the credit for the good stuff, but none of the blame for the bad stuff.  I have been noticing that certain things that I once accepted as the truth, now really annoy me.  For example, a friend recently posted on social media that her child is doing much better in school this year, compared to last year.  A comment was made on this achievement "to God be the glory".  Really?  This child has worked her butt off for months - mentally, emotionally and physically - to overcome whatever held her back last year - and you're going to don't blow her off and give God all her credit?  No!  She did the work, praise HER for rising up and doing what she needed to do!

On the flip side, how often is God blamed for the bad stuff?  War. Murder. Child abuse. Animal abuse. Tsunamis. Hurricanes. Floods. Rape. Starvation. Homelessness. Car wrecks. Plane crashes. Watch the news any given day and you will see one or more of these covered in the daily stories.  Nobody blames God (except Pat Robertson and we all know he's going to Hell anyway).  However, you may hear the occasional story of the little girl who was abducted and found BEFORE she was raped and murdered, and the relatives are all over the news, praising God for her safe return.  What about the 27 other little girls the guy took who were not returned?  Were they not worthy of God's rescue?

In conclusion, I cannot say that a God or many Gods exist.  I cannot say that He doesn't/they don't.  I will not judge a person because they do believe, as I have never judged a person because they did not believe.  If a friend asks for prayers, I will pray for them.  If a friend asks for healing vibes, likewise I will ask the universe to send healing vibes.  If a friend asks for me to think or speak good things towards them, I will.  If I can give what a friend requests, and do it with my whole heart, in love, then I will.

W Somerset Maugham said "the fact that a great many people believe something is no guarantee of it's truth".  I would suggest, likewise, that the fact that a great many people do not believe something is no guarantee of it's untruth. The only guarantee for me is that, by living according to seven simple words, I can make the world a better place.  Those words are:

~ LOVE ALL ~ SERVE ALL ~ CREATE NO SORROW ~

 Acknowledgement:  "Love all, serve all, create no sorrow" are lyrics taken from Trevor Hall's song "Unity" which you can hear at this link -  Trevor Hall - Unity (with lyrics)

3 minutes

"Homosexuality is no different to bestiality, next thing you know it will be legal for people to marry animals".

"Homesexuality is an abomination".

"There's a special place in Hell for homosexuals".

"I'm not judging, I'm just telling you what God's word says".

"The Bible is about Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve".

"The Supreme Court is taking this country straight to Hell".

"If any of you reading this are okay with this whole gay thing going on, unfriend me now".

"Absolutely disgusting!"

These are all actual quotes I've seen flying around on my Facebook news feed since the Supreme Court's historic decision to allow same sex couples to marry.  These people actually took the time out to post something negative and judgmental about a topic that, although they dislike it, has ZERO impact on their life or well being.

There are several random things that cross my mind when I think about what I'm seeing.

1)  This country is a democracy, not a theocracy.  The laws are made by the government, NOT one religious group. 

2)  As a Christian you are, by definition, a "follower of Christ".  The Jesus Christ in my Bible teaches about loving one another, loving your neighbor as yourself, helping others. He does not teach us to condemn or to judge.  That is God's job. (Of course, if you are any religion other than Christian, point 2 is invalid anyway).

3)  Many of us supporting the Supreme Court's decision are not gay, but have friends or family who are, or (gasp) just think all humans on this planet should have equal civil rights.

4)  Jehovah's Witnesses won't have blood transfusions because of their religion, but they aren't up in arms because other people are legally allowed to have them.  Muslims don't eat pork, but they aren't trying to make it illegal for anyone else to eat pork.  Jewish people don't celebrate Christmas, but they aren't out there yelling foul because other people can celebrate it.  Why is it okay for Christians to condemn gay marriage, because they don't think it's okay?

5)  If you personally don't like chocolate, don't eat it.  Likewise, if you personally don't like gay marriage, don't marry someone of the same sex. 

Bottom line is this, people - all people - of all colors, races, backgrounds, religions, all deserve the same basic human/civil rights as each other.  Why would any person with a good heart want anything less for their fellow man?  For their friends?  For their children?

Here's the thing...  It took the above people maybe 3 minutes to write the things they wrote, in anger, or disgust.

In those 3 minutes...

* approximately 5-6 gay teenagers committed suicide because they've seen and heard what an abomination they are, how disgusting they are, and how they are going to Hell anyway.

*  approximately 30 children and babies in Africa died of starvation.

* almost 800,000 homeless people sat on the streets hoping to eat today, just in the USA.

* over 107,000 of those homeless are US veterans.

* 1.5 people were physically/sexually assaulted by their domestic partner.

So the next time you want to spend 3 minutes doing something "Christian", maybe you could go feed a homeless person, or volunteer at a battered women's shelter, or watch this video and pray for the families left behind: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vISl9w6tKgo

Do you remember?

Do you remember?  

Do you remember me, the way I remember you?

When a leaf blows past your face, do you remember the walks we took in the autumn wind?

When you get muddy feet, do you remember camping in the rain?

When you see the ocean, glistening in the sun, are you reminded of splashing in the surf, eating ice cream on the wall, or long nights in each other’s arms by the seaside?

When you hear our music, do you remember lazy days in bed, nothing but junk food and vinyl?

When you look in the mirror, do you see a map on your brow, or remember the way my kisses fit perfectly between your nose and your cheek?

When you drive down a narrow road, do you remember our Sunday drives, music and conversations, dreams of our future?

When you smell fuchsias, do you remember a million walks down the garden path?

When things are rough, and you feel alone, do you remember when it was us against the world?  When we had each other, and that was all we would ever need?

Do you remember the plans we made, the children we would have, the lives we would live?

I remember all this and more.  So much more.

Your face is imprinted on my mind.

I speak your name silently ten times a day.

My body yearns to be enveloped in your arms, where I always felt so safe.

My inner thoughts call out, wanting to reveal themselves to you.

My tears fall into my lap, without you to wipe them away.

I whisper my words to you, my desires, my needs, my hopes and my dreams.

Across all the miles and all the years, my soul still calls to yours. 

Do you remember me?