The Art of Epic Birthdays

Summer sun never quits in ALaska

I've been lucky in life. Not everyone gets the opportunity to experience the world like I have and I'm eternally grateful. Some of my good fortune has to do with circumstances aligning in my favor, like internships for school and summers at camp. The other extraordinary events only happened with the dedication and devotion of two amazing individuals: my parents. They wanted my sister and I to explore the world and helped in every way imaginable to make that a reality.  From cowboy camping in diapers on the boardwalks of Yosemite Valley and weekend beach excursions to Wildwood, to private beach camping in the Virgin Islands and spring break trips snowboarding in Quebec, my parents made it happen (Captain).

Denali green camper bus

But among all these incredible memories, I, personally, hold three of these trips close to my heart.

• An 11-year old girl staying wildly at the entrance archway to Zion National Park
• A smiling 13-year old wearing her new dress on the chilly shores of the North Sea, Holland
• A tearful, grateful 30-year old dwarfed by the tallest peak in North America

These moments all have two things in common. My parents made them happen. And each moment occurred on my birthday. It wasn't intentional, I assure you. My parents obviously never planned on having kids with summer birthdays and therefore I can't connect these vacations to my birthday, specifically. But for me, it's been a memento that's begun to impact my future trips.

Denali

As the months sped towards my 30th birthday, I knew I needed that year's 'big day' to be something special. And what began as a solo Denali expedition, turned into a mother-daughter co-birthday adventure. With my mom also celebrating a milestone birthday in 2016 (I won't say which one), it only seemed appropriate that she join me. And her and my dad made it happen.

McKinley Bar near Wonder Lake

Toklat River Bar

I checked another state and national park off my bucket list (although I will be back someday), we saw Denali (which only 10% of visitors get to see), and we met some truly amazing people who helped celebrate our birthdays with beer, cakes, and songs in more languages than I can count. And just like every birthday prior and everyone yet to come, I was surrounded by love and the knowledge that I have parents who still find it a priority to make everyone of my birthdays, epic.

Nick (Alaska), my mom, me, Gabriel (Brazil), Marjolein (Holland)

Scouting Nockamixon

April 17th started out like any ordinary day.  Little did I know that that day would be one of the best of my life.  As I said, it started out like any other...with me hitting the snooze button on my alarm.  Typical really.  Shawn and I were heading out to scout a new kayaking location for my job and I really did not want to get out of bed, let alone kayak.  He let me sleep in a bit before coaxing me out of bed (I'd come to learn that he had already been up for hours).  We eventually made our way out the door and soon found ourselves in the rolling hills of Bucks County beside the vast reservoir of Lake Nockamixon. 

The day shone bright and clear; the beautiful spring day a backdrop to a memory that will last a lifetime.  I went about my mission to scout out this location as a potential site for our adventure programs.  We visited a few different boat ramps around the lake before settling on the perfect spot.  Haycock Boat Ramp sits at the north end of the lake; a bit secluded away from the main marina.  With the spring sunshine warming up the day and the beauty of the lake calling to me, we pushed off from the ramp and kayaked up lake.  

Sundays in mid-April aren't the busiest of times on this lake and the quiet around us was welcome.  Just Shawn and I and the great outdoors.  Wildlife danced along as we paddled across the calm water.  Herons, ducks, and turtles, oh my!  This would be a great spot to bring our adventure groups.  As I was enjoying the leisurely paddle, Shawn was practically buzzing beside me.  

Floating along side each other, basking in the sunlight, we started to chat about the beauty of the lake and the spectacular weather we were blessed with that day.  I smiled over at him and said what a perfect day it was and how happy I was in that moment there with him.  Shawn was wearing the biggest nervous smile I've ever seen on his face and pulled out a small, red box.  How could this moment get any more prefect?  

The words, "Will you marry me?"  Through my tears and happy giggles, I'm sure I managed the word "Yes!"  Shawn had completely and totally surprised me.  I later learned that he had been hiding the ring for a couple weeks, waiting for the perfect moment.  Also, that very day, he had slipped out of bed to meet my parents for breakfast at 4 o'clock in the morning and managed to make it back into bed without me realizing he had left!  He definitely found the most perfect moment.  It doesn't get any better than two people together, enjoying the wonders of nature and each other.  April 17th, 2016 will go down in the books as one of the best days of my life.  

My Summer in Stehekin

I can't begin to write about all the incredible things I did in my five months living in Stehekin. But here's a highlight list of the most incredible summer!

• star-lit hot tub chats with my roommate, Morgan (interrupted only by occasional frigid plunges into the lake)
• berry picking, bike riding, and swimming with Stephanie
• a little girl who told her parents, "I wanna grow up to be like Carlyn"
• a guest capsizing a canoe... and a kayak... twice...
• dinner and game nights at the Flop House with the bakery girls
• Harvest Fest with Kelly (and our balcony giggle session)
• solo Rainbow Lake overnight "It's in the name!"
• seeing bear prints on Monday beach while watching the spawning salmon with my husband (not a boulder, but just as good)
• nightly dinners, movie nights, and parties in the Hobbit Hole
• intimately getting to know my boats (Japhy, you're still my favorite!)
• slack lining with Hannah and Bren
• juggling nights watching Elsa improve and playing with Mischa
• Cleatus and Bonham's aquatic shenanigans
• journaling on the Lakeshore Trail overlook
• morning yoga on the docks
• watching the seaplanes coming and going (or really watching the guests get really excited about it)
• watching a lightning storm start a wildfire
• watching the progression of wildfire over two months
• square dancing at the orchard
• helping an 80-year old woman live out her dreams of kayaking across the lake to see the pictographs

stay together

learn the flowers

go light

- Gary Snyder

Fall Lessons in the North Cascades

The moment after making a vital decision there's a thought: "I did the right thing." Almost instantly afterwards, there's another: "Did I do the right thing?" Which is usually followed by "You're an idiot." Here's a funny story about the day I made a huge mistake, resulting in the lose of many needed hours of sleep. When you get lucky, you learn lessons.

A solo 40-mile back country trip into the wilds of North Cascades National Park was something I'd been thinking about all summer. I didn't have a partner, but I had a plan and that seemed good enough for me.

Pelton Basin in the dawn light

The Plan: I'd leave the night before and camp at Tumwater: the last front country site you can drive to. I'd wake early and hike 17 miles to Pelton Basin. The next day I'd do the short 3 miles to Sahale Glacier and the 3 miles to Horseshoe Basin and sleep at Cottonwood Camp. Next morning would be only 12 easier miles back to the bus and home for a shower and dinner.

But as the rain woke me from my sleep at Tumwater (cause of course I didn't put on my rain fly), I knew the trip was doomed from the beginning...

If you've ever hiked a mile in the pouring rain, you can begin to imagine how miserable it was to hike 17 miles in the rain in  early September. It's exactly as fun as it sounds.

So coming into camp, knowing I'd be alone (or so said the ranger, cause the popular short route to Sahale was closed), I was ready for a quiet night. But what I got was a packed campground, a windy tent site, and frozen feet. And because I had to put my tent as far from the bear box as possible and my body was borderline hypothermic, I was in no mood to trek back up the hill to put my food away. Enter my bad decision...

Lying in my tent, with my head not five feet from my food bag (that I never touched, cause I was too cold), listening to the yells coming from the other inhabitants around me, was enough to question every decision I've pretty much ever made. 'They're scaring away bears. Every five minutes. God they are persistent little buggers. Maybe they'll stay up there with them and not venture down here...' Needless to say, I'll never not store my food properly ever again.

The funny part of the story comes the following morning, when the other inhabitants of the campground were actually NPS rangers doing trail work. They were shocked to see me, since the easy route there was closed and needless to say, my ego was stoked as they were impressed I'd come from Stehekin the previous day. Alone. But the real kicker?  "Hey! We wished we'd known there was someone else here! You totally couldn't joined us for a beer. We were listening to the University of Washington football game!"

My sleepless night... brought on my beers and football... not bears...

Well, I can't fault them for it. They sure sounded like they were having a good time, now that I can put it all into context.

Horseshoe Basin

So to wrap it up, I skipped Sahale Glacier, stopped by Horseshoe basin on the way down, and booked it back 20 miles in only 7.5 hours. My sleeping bag and most of my stuff was wet, so there was no way I was spending another cold night in the wilds.

Highlights from the return journey: Cascading waterfalls in Horseshoe Basin, the growling black bear on its hind legs not ten feet away, and the older couple who rescued me and bought me dinner at the ranch. Oh, and the fall colors didn't suck.

Luckily all I lost was a good night's sleep. But I've learned that you're never too tired to properly store your food.

Solo Summit

There are moments in our lives when we look at a challenge and say: I want to conquer that. When the prospect of moving to Stehekin was becoming a reality, I set myself a goal. One monumental, but obtainable goal: to climb Mt. McGregor.

At 8,122 feet of elevation, over 6,000 feet of elevation gain, and 8 miles of switchbacks, McGregor is Stehekin's badass guardian. I knew I wanted that summit and it became my singular summer goal. But I had no idea just how fantastic the experience would be.

Tuesday August 18, 2015, 7am. I'm awake early, mostly from jitters. I didn't think I'd be nervous, but there I was, lying in bed, contemplating my choices. All my fears quickly washed away when I boarded the bus and received plenty of encouragement from Ronnie, our bus driver, and the firefighters and fellow hikers on the bus. After that, I was ready.

Reaching outside of your comfort zone is a scary experience. I've hiked alone plenty of times, numerous distances, trails, difficulties, ect. I've even backpacked by myself once. Three miles from the parking lot and civilization, but the howls of coyotes too close for comfort were enough to keep me awake most of the night. However, I wouldn't swap the experience for anything. And I realized, as I was bouncing along in that big red bus towards the trailhead, that those solo trips were preparing me for this one.

Eight miles and 6,000 feet is a long way to battle with your own mind. There were plenty of times were I thought to myself, 'You can stop and no one will be the wiser' or 'Turn around now and no one will judge you.' But I would know. I would know I didn't make it. And that singular thought is what kept my feet moving up that damned mountain. With a partner, it's harder to say no. When your only combatant is your own thoughts and your own conscious, that is the true test of your will power.

Yeah, I'm kind of a badass.

When I finally reached my campsite at Heaton, after hours and hours of merciless switchbacks and August heat bearing down on me, I screamed. I found a campsite over-looking the trail I'd just battled and I yelled into the abyss. I was thankful that I had made it, thankful that I was physically capable of making it, and thankful that I'd chosen to do this by myself. For nothing in that moment would compare to sitting in the dust and dirt, staring at the setting sun over mountains and glaciers, knowing I just beat my own mind. Yes, I still had to summit. Yes, I still had to get through a night, alone on the edge of the world. But in that moment, little else mattered.

Sunset from Heaton Camp

I fared the night better than I expected too. With only small rodents and birds to keep me company, it was easy to get some sleep. And when I woke up at two in the morning, needing to pee, I wasn't scared to wander into the trees to find a bush. And when I came back, I was greeted to the most incredible spectacular view of the Milky Way. With no light pollution and a slivered moon that was already beneath the mountains, I found myself in awe. Glad that I didn't need my rainfly, I fell back asleep to the shimmering of the stars.

I wanted to be on the trail at 5am, but I guess my tired muscles had other plans. Instead I was on trail by 6am and heading towards the summit. Now, in a perfect world the trail to the summit would have been a nice, graded path with a wee scramble at the end. Nope. I was not that lucky. After a half mile of crusty, dusty, steep trail I was face to face with my worst nightmare. A scree field, large enough to make grown men cry. The kind that moves with a mere look. Don't get mad at it or it will bury you in jagged little demons. But brave the treacherous field I did. Though to be frank, I was more worried about climbing back down that section...

100 yard scree field and 1/4 mile Class 2 scramble to the summit

When I cleared the scree field, I approached the section I was most looking forward to. A quarter mile scramble to the summit that weaves its way around two minor peaks. The scramble is marked by faint, almost non-existent orange arrows, creeping along cliffs and boulders. Most of the sections had wonderful hand holds that allowed for a smooth climb to the top. Only a couple areas were slightly too exposed for my comfort. But thankfully I wore my approach shoes, so the sticky rubber enabled my fears of falling to be quelled.

After a momentary vocal battle with a marmot and a necessary photo op with a glacier, I pushed to the summit, my feet following the magnetic pull of the radio tower situated at the top of the world. I had done it. I had reached the top of Stehekin's massive sentinel. So what's a girl to do when she reached the summit of her single summer goal? Have a dance party of course!

Victory dance on the Summit of McGregor to "Happy" by Pharrell Williams

After a much need breakfast and lots of photo ops, it was time to head down. Like my mother so wisely says (and something I kept in mind the entire trip up) "Going up is optional. Going down is not." And honestly, as I said earlier, I was dreading going down that damn scree field. And I was right to fear it. I'd put my hand on one rock and twenty would move around it. I sent more time pulling my hands and feet from mini rock slides than anything else. Definitely the scariest part of the trip. But once my feet hit solid trail the rest was easy going.

Summit Radio Tower

I made it back to Heaton Camp and packed up my things. There was no way I was dragging 30 pounds of gear up that mountain so I left most of it at camp, toting only the lid of my backpack as a should sling. It actually worked out considerably well and I never felt it mess up my balance. I had summitted and returned to camp, ready to head out by 10am. And now... the easy part. Or so I thought.

When you are hiking uphill, your muscles are forced to work extremely hard moving you forward. However, when you are traveling downhill, there are no active muscle groups working. Its just gravity. So, why does it hurt more to go downhill? Because apparently your muscles are working on keeping your body upright and that takes more effort. Or something like that. Either way, it only took me a mile to realize that downhills are the devil. And my knee seconded the accusation.

Sandalee Glacier on the North Face of McGregor - I touched it!

I returned to High Bridge by 2pm, successfully completing the descent in half the time it took me to summit. And by the time I got down, the only thing I had energy left to do was remove my shoes and flop on top of a picnic table to await the arrival of the bus. I had told Ronnie (since he would be the one driving the bus on my second day) that I would be back before the final bus left High Bridge at 6:30pm and that if I wan't there, something was wrong. But luckily, nothing went wrong and I was there for the 3pm bus. And Ronnie was all smiles and congratulations when he saw me.

It really is another world up there.

As I rode the bus down from High Bridge, body sore, and emotions high, I was reminded of just how lucky I am that I have the opportunity to pursue such lofty dreams. I have a supportive family, an amazing husband who has absolute faith in me and my abilities, and a strong friend network. Without their help and encouragement, I wouldn't be where I am today. Standing on top of the world. Later that night, I ran back into Ronnie. He told me that it took a lot of guts to do what I did and that he was tremendously proud of me. I got similar responses from my sister, my parents, my husband, and my friends. That was the icing on the McGregor cake. The perfect end to the most wonderful day.

Summit Fever!

The Meaning of MoWo

Camp Mosey Wood, set in the beautiful Pocono Mountains, is a place where the fun never stops and nothing ever dries.  Ten summers of my life were spent within the camp bubble, hiding away from the outside world, finding peace in nature.  So many people have come into my life through camp, and I couldn't imagine life without those chapters.  Now that "I" has become "we", I figured it was time to introduce my other half to the joys of MoWo.  The best (...and only) time to do that was family camp.

After the long car ride filled with way too much traffic, we finally saw that old sign welcoming us to camp.  Driving up the road felt like coming home.  As we drove through camp, I was bubbling over with excitement.  There were so many things to show Shawn, so many stories to share.  How was I going to start explaining the magic of camp...and where?  Deerwood seemed like a good place to start since I had spent most of my time in that unit.

We hiked up to Deerwood and settled into tent #1, home indeed.  Rolling tent flaps is like riding a bike...something you never forget.  The familiar scent of damp forest and canvas filled my nose.  It was a smell I hadn't realized I'd been missing.  After unpacking we headed down the road back toward central camp, all the while pointing out different sights to Shawn.  "This is Pathfinder...that's Stonewood...oh, and that's where we had a code V!"  We wandered around for awhile before ending up in the dining hall.  It was there that we met up with some friends, the Laudenslager family and my old college friend, Dave (small world!).  Reunions are wonderful, especially at camp.  The opening meeting came with more reunions of old staff friends and the weekend schedule.  We headed back to Deerwood early to get a good night's sleep for all the fun that awaited us the next day.  I had forgotten how peaceful sleeping at camp is; the night breeze carrying the whispers of creatures in the dark, the slight chill of mountain air against your face while the rest of your body is snug in the sleeping bag, the crazy-loud noise of the bed springs whenever you move an inch.  

A cool, damp morning followed and we reluctantly left our warm sleeping bags for the promise of a warm breakfast.  Camp food is always worth leaving your sleeping bag.  We decided to start our weekend off with a hike, the Yellow Trail.  Don't ask me why, maybe we needed a little punishment right off the bat.  If that doesn't make sense to you, then you have never hiked the Yellow Trail.  You always get lost, end of story.  Just lost enough that you start to worry.  It didn't take long to find the trail again, crisis averted.  The end of the trail brought us to Jacob's Ladder, a rock outcrop just beyond Deerwood.  We climbed around for a bit, looked for the cache and admired the chalk work on the stone.  Enjoying the tranquility of the woods, we sat in silence.  Hiking back to central camp, we decided to head to the archery range to find our inner Katniss.  Who knew Shawn was such a good shot?! 

The remaining time before lunch was spent shooting round after round.  We set off for lunch with a couple of bull's eyes under our belts, feeling pretty badass.  At lunch we caught up with the Laudenslagers and made plans for the afternoon.  Swimming was next on the agenda, but the cool air made us rethink that plan.  Sophia didn't seem to have a problem with that.  She splashed away in the chilly, lake water, but knowing her mom, she's probably half fish!  I didn't make it past my thighs and Shawn barely got his feet wet.  After that failed attempt at swimming, we headed over to the boathouse.  I must have thought the water would be warmer over at boating because I suited up for my first try at stand up paddle boarding (or SUPing for you hip folks).  And try I did, and by try, I mean fell...a lot.  SUPing was a lot harder than I thought it would be and let me tell you, the water was NOT warmer over there.  After a long struggle, I managed to stand up a couple times.  I'm pretty sure Shawn was laughing on the dock.  And go figure, Shawn stood up on his first try; SUPing must be his thing!

Smiling and a little damp, we headed back to Deerwood for rest hour.  Having fun is hard work!  Dinner quickly came around and we made our way to the dining hall.  Another surprise visitor showed up, Oz!  Dinner was delicious, of course, but hardly the end of our day.  Climbing wall was up and running in the pavilion.  Shawn got a chance to test his fear of heights...on a smallish scale, and he did so well!  

I think it's safe to say, we both slept well that night.  We awoke to another cool, damp morning; this time it was a little harder to leave the warmth of our sleeping bags.  But there was breakfast somewhere, so we ventured off.  The rain held off so far and we hoped for a bit longer too.  After breakfast, we made our way to high ropes.  I definitely didn't miss the hill up to the course.  It's a steep one!  We made quick work of gearing up and off he went.  It was time for him to face his fear on a much larger scale.  I had no idea that I was dating Spiderman!  He completed the high ropes course in record time and only "kinda" screamed like a girl on the swing (just kidding, it was a very manly roar...followed by "weeeeeeee!").  By the time family camp rolls around next year, he'll be ready for the dueling ziplines! Once back on solid ground, we left high ropes and headed down to Trexler for some good old arts & crafts.  Lunch was next, and soon we would have to say goodbye to camp for awhile.   

After lunch we said our goodbyes and left with the promise of next year.  We took one last walk out to Chapel for a little reflection.  The overcast sky hid the sun and seemed to echo my mood.  We were leaving this place shortly, for time had passed too quickly.  My only wish (for my invisible wood cookie) was that I had shown Shawn the magic of this place.  How you can escape the distractions of the outside world and find peace within yourself.  

Family camp had been a wonderful way to share a place so dear to my heart with the one that now holds it close.  The weekend there was just a tiny taste of the adventures that camp may hold.  But Mosey Wood has not always been fun for me.  At times it has scared me, challenged me and taught me new things about myself and life.  Camp has taught me how to be strong when I am afraid, how to challenge myself and love who I am, how to make sisters with total strangers.  Camp has taught me that it's okay to be out there on the loose, for not all who wander are lost.  Camp has taught me to always have stars in my eyes, that love is the greatest magic there is and that our lives are made up of little chapters.  I hope that everyone has their own "camp"; a place that shapes who you are, challenges your way of thinking, where you can grow as a person.  And I hope Mosey Wood can continue being that place for me (and hopefully my future children) for another 75 years!

 

High Adventure on the Appalachian Trail

My alarm went off early.  I didn't sleep well, mostly because I'd just spent the previous 48 hours traveling across the country and visiting family. But the main reason is that I was going backpacking and I'm wired.  I am going with my sister and getting to combine two of my favorite things (backpacking and spending time with my little sister) was cause for excitement and for being very impatient.  Now here we were, finally, loading up her little neon green compact and heading to northern Jersey of all places to hike a 20-mile section of the Appalachian Trail, through the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area.

It felt just like old times.  Talking about boys, life, and singing our favorite songs (which is an eclectic mix of country, folk, rock, and Disney).  My husband was so gracious in agreeing to drive with us so we could park my sisters car at the ending trailhead and then shuttling us to the northern trailhead: Crater Lake.  As I kissed him goodbye, I knew seeing him the next day would be cause for celebrating a well-accomplished adventure.

As he drove his mom's Subaru down the dusty road away from us, there was a fleeting feeling of fear.  Not for being alone, but that our only way home was to walk the twenty miles back to the car.  The entire journey was now determined on our ability to traverse the New Jersey terrain back to Pennsylvania.  I guess I should preface my sister's frustrations of the initial few miles.  I had chosen this section because the terrain was pretty level.  "It's a ridge walk," I had said. "Get high, stay high."  Well, part of that was true.  But as we trudged up the first of many grueling uphills, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty.  I should have known better; I knew the Appalachian Trail is just a continuous string of PUDs (pointless ups and downs), but I guess I was feeling optimistic.

But as we crested our first ridge and looked out to the rolling hills of New Jersey on our left and the green peaks of Pennsylvania to our right, we knew this was going to be a trip for the books.  And was it ever!  Even for mid-September everything was still green and gorgeous.  The infamous "green tunnel" was very prevalent and we spent miles walking under the shaded trees along the well-worn footpath.  The white blazes never led us astray and as we came into camp on that first day, we were exhausted and all smiles.

Unfortunately the price to camp at the AMC Mohican Outdoor Center is a little high, so we continued on, passing the 1300 mile point of the AT, drawn colorfully onto a wooden bridge in what looked like marker.  On our descent into the Mohican Center we passed several flat exposed ridge areas, perfect for camping.  So logic would assume that the trail leading up and out of the valley on the other side of the center would provide us with similar accommodations.  We were so wrong.  Every clearing we passed was either on the hillside or covered with sharp rocks.  The sun was starting to set and we needed to find something or the night was going to be very uncomfortable.

Finally a little side trail opened up to reveal a secluded little area, thick with picker bushes that would have to do.  After setting up the tent and making dinner, we proceeded to amuse ourselves with the task of hanging up the bear bag.  Jersey is known for its black bear population and we weren't going to take any risks.  But there weren't a lot of options.  Thinking back on it, we probably should have video taped it and sent it in to America's Funniest Home Videos.  We were sure getting a good laugh from it!

We both slept well.  Or at least I hope we did.  I think I gave my sister my puffy as a pillow sometime in the evening because it had gotten cold (she was using her liner as a pillow).  But the next morning we were up and moving pretty quickly.  The air was damp and chilly and we decided to wait to eat until we could find a sunny ridge in which to stop on.  Little did we know that ridge would be just up the trail (the perfect camping spot we just missed out on).

We quickly realized that day two was going to be ten times more beautiful than day one.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky, the morning fog was hanging low in the valleys, and the day wasn't too hot.  The trek up Raccoon Ridge would give us the most stunning vista, but not before giving us our first fright. Not a bear.  A Southbounder (a thru-hiker of the AT going from north to south).  I had stopped to remove a very large branch from the trail and all the sudden, there he was, causing both of us to jump in surprise.  And then he was gone, charging up the trail.  Just goes to show the stamina one acquires on a thru-hike.  Entering New Jersey and never even pausing on a long uphill.  Someday...

But anyway, like I was saying, the view from Raccoon Ridge was extraordinary.  And we weren't the only ones sharing the view.  There was a team from Hawk Watch observing the migrations.  And another Southbounder!  With a little break and ton of pictures, we headed down the other side. For the next eight miles, it would be mostly down, which was actually worse than the ups. The main reason?  You may know that Pennsylvania has a AT nickname: "Rocksylvania."  Lots of boulder fields, trails filled with large rocks, small rocks, rocks that destroy your shoes, rocks you have to hop, rocks you want to kick (those ones make you fall)...  And apparently New Jersey never got the memo that the rocks stopped in Pennsylvania.  I've hiked portions of Rocksylvania and this section of Jersey might be worse.  And yes, I tripped.  And yes, I fell.  And yes, it hurt.  But it wasn't my fault!  The forests are just that amazing, you can't take your eyes off the green that's surrounding you!

Probably the highlight of the trip, was our lunch break at Sunfish Pond.  As a National Natural Landmark, it was sure to be beautiful.  But it was so much more.  The bright late summer sun was shimmering across the water like a million little bugs and the grassy field was so inviting, that we sat in the grass and ate lunch and just wasted time.  At 3.5 miles from the trailhead, it's an easy enough day hike, if it weren't for the 3.5 miles of uphills of the way there...  This is the section of the trail where we saw the most people.  We only ran into four previously, but now it was every turn. We even gave some corrective advice to some people who clearly didn't know what they were getting themselves into.  It gave us a good laugh and also a feeling of accomplishment, since we had hiked 16 miles to see that lake, rather than the measly 3 from the parking lot.

In the end, we made it safely. My feet have never been that happy to be dunked into a freezing cold stream and my tummy never so happy to be filled with instant mashed potatoes.  And even though we cursed the last three miles of straight downhill and we limped all the way to the car, we were smiling the whole way there!  We were sore and our pains had pains, but it was incredible nonetheless.  And I wouldn't have traded the time with my sister for anything.