2013 Following Atticus Gratitude Hike: The Road Trip

Written from a rustic cabin at Pokagon State Park, Angola, IN on Thursday morning, October 10.....


This is my attempt to write and sort out my thoughts from the incredible vacation I have just experienced. When was the last time I had a real vacation? Never? This is a first for me in so many ways. My first road trip on my own. My first hike in the mountains. My first time doing something special as a mother/daughter duo.

The driving the first day was grueling. A little homesick through Indiana as I left, boring through Ohio, stressful through Cleveland, pleasant through the southern tier of New York, but arriving later than anticipated at my hotel in Johnson City. It was dark by then, almost 8:30. I had to drive about 2 hours in the dark through construction and unfamiliar busy roads at rush hour while tired and uncomfortable from sitting too long. The Red Roof Inn was very nice, but I got lost looking for some place to eat. I was shaking and terrified as I got all turned around in a strange city and did not know how to get back to my hotel. I had to stop at a gas station (twice) and kind people helped me find my way. By then I just went to bed hungry without dinner but too nervous to eat anyway. I ate a dry piece of rye bread from the loaf I brought with me to ward off hunger pangs. This was not at all how I envisioned my first night away from home. I felt a little homesick and strange in the hotel by myself. My plan to tour the historic carousel in the park and walk on a nature trail did not happen due to the time constraints. Nor did a nice meal at the end of the day's journey transpire. I have since determined that 500 miles would have been enough distance for the day for me and that 640 was way too ambitious. But I had no choice really, unless I would have left the day before.

The next morning I was still nervous, and when I couldn't find my cosmetic bag I had a panic attack. I was crying and convinced that my brain was not capable of handling this trip since I forgot to pack something. [I subsequently found the missing bag.] I really had not had time to prepare for the trip as well as I wanted to. This whole thing was too much for me I determined. I tried to convince myself I had accomplished something by getting as far as I did and intended to just turn around and go home. But the thought of driving through Cleveland dissuaded me. I did not feel up to that either. I tried to calm down, I prayed, I thought about how I needed to be in New Hampshire for Denise's sake, how disappointed she would be if I backed out, and how I had known I was supposed to be there on this hike. I had to do this. But how? I thought of the Following Atticus mantra, "Onward, by all means!" One foot in front of the other. Face my fears. Don't retreat. I can do all things through Moshiach, who strengthens me. "I'll just take one step at a time," I thought. "I'll drive to the traffic light where I messed up last night, I'll turn right, and I'll go to the grocery store/cafe that I had planned on in the first place. I'll get a cup of coffee and figure it out from there."

Even this turned out to be a challenge, as the entrance was confusing and hard to see in the dark. But I made it. I got a coffee and an egg and cheese muffin. Taking care of my nutritional needs helped. I get "crazy" when my blood sugar level drops too low, and snacks don't help. I need protein. [Now that I reflect on this, I had not eaten much of anything the entire day. My "panic attacks" were due to hypoglycemia.]

Back to level-headedness, I felt ready to embark on the next phase of the journey. I left Johnson City, NY about 7:30 am, and the drive to Albany NY was pleasant enough although it was raining, but only occasionally did it rain hard. I was praying and listening to Yaacov Shwekey. The Collection CD comforted me throughout the trip and became my primary music. I also listened to Tom Rush and Dave Van Ronk and the audio version of Following Atticus. I laughed out loud at some of the stories Tom told. I felt like I was getting to know Tom through listening to him read his book. I paid more attention to details than I had in reading the paperback version, before I knew I would meet the author.

It was still raining in Albany so I decided it was too challenging to try to get to Vermont from there following the confusing Mapquest route. I stayed on the Mass Pike instead. Entering Massachusetts I realized this was the first time in my whole life I had driven back to my home state. I had mixed feelings about being there. I liked the scenery, especially in the Berkshires, but there is something oppressive about the State of Massachusetts that I sense. I just have never had a peace about being there for some reason. Spiritually it is not compatible with my soul or psyche. Except for my beloved Blue Hills where I used to ride horses. Maybe I've always been a "mountain girl" or at least a "forest girl".

I took 91 north, and the sun came out briefly in Northampton MA, but most of the trip was cloudy or rainy. I wondered if it would be raining in the White Mountains and if we would get to hike or not, or if we did, would the rocks be slippery.

Vermont was beautiful, with peak foliage, gently rolling hills, and postcard pretty farms dotting the landscape. I got within a few miles of Groton, where I spent time as a child with the Fergusons, but I did not have time for the planned side trip there. This whole journey was taking far more time than anticipated. I had hoped to arrive in Jackson, NH around 3-4 pm., but it was looking like a 6 pm. arrival time. I tried not to stress about it, realizing I would have little time/energy to get ready for the hike the following morning.

Crossing into New Hampshire, I wondered why I was traveling all this way to see the Autumn scenery. Sure, it was beautiful, but I enjoy Indiana's understated beauty and pretty fall colors. What was the big deal about New England? Suddenly the White Mountains came looming into view. I said, "Wow!" That's all I could say. I was humbled in my thoughts. There was something majestic about these mountains. They were much higher, rockier, bare on top, imposing. The word "grandeur" came to mind. I didn't care for all the touristy stuff I was passing along the highway, but the mountains themselves were a draw. The foliage seemed almost a bit past peak here, about 20 miles north of Jackson, but when I got to Jackson, it was perfect. Tom had picked the right weekend. I arrived at the RiverWood Inn about 6 pm. and hoped to freshen up and change clothes before meeting people, but as soon as I got out of the car, Tom and Denise pulled in. Oh well, I wasn't ready, felt grungy, but it was great to see Denise, and Tom made me feel at ease. I liked him right away.

Our tiny room with high, antique beds was very nice. It was pretty cramped with all our suitcases and gear though. Denise and Tom went out to eat. I was invited but declined, choosing to finish my subway sandwich in my room and try to relax a little. Relaxation was impossible as the time sped past. I wasn't ready for this hike. I did not know what to pack in my backpack. It was all happening too fast. It was dark before I could even wander the grounds down by the Wildcat Creek as planned. That experience would have to wait. I went to sleep, setting my alarm for 5 am so I could read my Bible, take a shower, and pack up for the hike before the breakfast at 7:30. I thought I had plenty of time. I didn't. It was a mad rush in the morning.

....to be continued.