Last chapter, Lady Goes Walkabout
Day 33
I am home. I unpacked, did my laundry, and sat down on the couch. I thought I would just rest a moment but the next thing I knew it was dark and my tummy was rumbling. I must have been pretty tired, because now after supper I am ready for bed again. I have a meeting tomorrow with my advisor to talk with her about my new thesis plan, and I have a list of books to search for at the library. I also have a meeting with the principal of a local elementary school where I have to teach a semester of reading for the education section of my degree.
I know the depression can return, and I have to watch out for that, but I also know ways to avoid it. Walking every day helps, or at least sitting outside on the porch, when there isn’t time for a full on walk. I plan to start a hiking club, or join one if there is one already started. I have plans.
Day 34
After working my way through my list, meeting with my advisor and such, I found a hiking club. I called, and signed up to backpack with them on Saturday and Sunday. I am excited; I will be backpacking with other people who know what they are doing. I should learn a lot. I had better pack carefully; I don’t want anyone saying I was carrying too much, or saying I didn’t know what to do. I borrowed a backpack, a real one, and I spent all day today packing and repacking for best use. I kept reminding myself that I had hiked, basically backpacked, for three days on the side of the road. Even so, I wanted to look prepared. Tomorrow we were meeting on campus, and driving up to the Georgia Mountains to start our hike.
Day 35-36
I am back home, rested and happy. Our weekend backpacking trip was wonderful. We drove up to the north GA Mountains, found the correct spot to park, and pulled packs and boots and such out of all our cars. I put on my new to me pack. It was heavy, but not too heavy. I wiggled around some, adjusted the straps, and tightened the belt. The group hiking included three men, a married couple, and another girl. We took a few minutes to get acquainted. I was the only new person in the group, and they all reminded me to rest as needed, to let them know if I needed to stop at times. We started walking, and fairly quickly the trail turned and began climbing uphill. I was used to hiking out west, and here in Georgia the trees were tall and squeezing in. All that greenery and living pulsing plants made it a little hard to breathe, but as I walked I found the beauty of the deep and green woods. The air was hot and sticky, and sweat dripped from my nose and chin. After an hour of hiking I felt settled into a pace, and was enjoying the walk. I love the rhythm of walking, of feeling the feet pass along the ground. Step, step step, I could do this all the way to Maine. Of course, we only had 2 days. At the top of a ridge we all stopped to drink water and snack. My hiking buddies were very interesting. They thought it was funny that I lived in Georgia, and yet found the close trees oppressive.
At the end of the day we reached the camping area. It was down in a valley, and the trees were more spread apart. A shallow wide creek ran by the spot. Each of us dropped our backpacks, and heaved collective sighs of pleasure. There was nothing better than taking the heavy weight off of my back, and feeling cool air blow across my sweaty skin. I began looking through my pack, pleased with my light planning. One of the men in the group opened his pack, looked around at us smugly and pulled out of the pack a huge, heavy cast iron dutch oven. It was so heavy it clanged on the ground as he put it down. My eyes opened wide.
“You carried that, that pot, all the way?”
All the guys laughed.
“How on earth? I spent hours planning and making my pack as light as possible.” I protested.
They laughed again. One of the other guys in the group answered. “We all wanted to eat his dutch oven cobbler, the best food ever. To do this, we shared carrying all his stuff, so he could carry that and the cans of peaches.”
“You will see after supper, it will be worth it, every hernia and every extra pound. Trust me!”
We set up our tents and cooked our meals. The dutch oven man built a fire, and let the fire settle into hot coals. He lined the oven with tin foil, and began dumping canned peaches into the pot. He mixed a cake mix, without eggs, and covered the fruit. While we relaxed, and rested, the wonderful aroma of cobbler teased us. Finally it was done and we all ate every bite.
“Next time, who will carry the ice cream?”
In the morning we woke slowly, and after breakfast we walked uphill and out to a lovely view of the entire mountain area. The cobbler man, or dutch oven man, pointed out way off into the distance.
“Our trail continues on that way for miles and miles. It joins the Appalachian trail and then of course continues on all the way to Maine.”
“Have any of you done that, hiked all the way?” I asked.
“No, none of us, but some of us have walked a long way, several weeks worth.”
“We have all dreamed of it, and now you will too. Welcome to our club.”
They were right, as we hiked back down off the mountain and reached our cars, my mind was wandering the other way, heading north.
Day 37
School starts in a week. My roommates are back. I decided to treat them to a surprise welcome home party. I fixed a fire in my fire ring I had set up in the backyard. We speared hot dogs and roasted them in the flames. We laughed, and shared our summer stories. When the fire turned to coals I started the cobbler recipe, having borrowed the dutch oven from my hiking friends. We sat around the fire, listening to the crack of flames, watching the shadows dance around us, and marveled that we were only in our backyard. I could hear a neighbor clanging around in his garage, and every once in a while we heard a car drive by. Lightning bugs flicked on and off, and the cobbler cooked.
Katie sighed, “This is a perfect evening. I feel ready for the new year at school but I also never want to leave this backyard.”
I told her I understood completely. Once the cobbler was done I spooned the gooey peaches and cake out to everyone, and we enjoyed our meal, eating together under the stars and branches of the tall trees. The sweet southern evening settled around us, and we were content.
Day one of teaching in the elementary school
A week has passed and a lot has happened. First we started our first semester of our last year of graduate school. I began reading and working on my thesis, changing the theme to travel literature. No longer teaching college classes, I now was teaching elementary kids in a tough city school. I was given freedom to choose my own books and curriculum, since my teaching was also a training for me, but I was warned, these city kids are not going to be interested in the same books as you like. What does that even mean? Inner city kids, stuck at home while single parents work, or tossed between a parent and grandparent, or whatever awful situation they have, they are not going to care about reading? Or at least not reading what I read? Maybe these kids just haven’t been given the chance to care. We shall see.
This morning was the first day of school with students. I walked into my classroom, looked around at the tidy desks, the decorated walls, and stacks of books along the walls. It was peaceful, and ready. The room brimmed with potential, and all it needed was life, the energy of young minds ready to learn. A bell rang, and a roar was heard. All at once a crowd of young faces, all dressed in matching blue shirts and dark blue pants pushed into the room. Once everyone was sitting down, a level of quiet settled over the room. Each face stared at me, curious, or carefully not interested, each one waiting to see. I was new, the unknown quantity. Would I make a good year for them, or a long and dull one?
I quieted the students, introduced myself, and asked, “Who here has read the book 'My Side of the Mountain?' We are going to head off onto an adventure, one book at a time.”
I passed out the student copies. The cover of the book shows a boy in the woods, holding one hand up in the air. He has on a leather glove, and just above his hand flies a hawk. From the artwork you can tell that the hawk had been sitting on the boys hand, and was now flying free.
It was a great day! I hope to see those students someday out on the trails. And now, I have a work book to fill out, plans to make, and a hike to start. Thanks for reading this journal, and I hope your adventures lead to good places!
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