From the travel journal - Sapphire - day three

I've managed my anxiety reasonably well on this trip. I'm a believer in signs, and before this trip, I grabbed ahold with both hands the signs. I've driven up and down this godforsaken windy, give-one-carsickness road with locals riding my bumper, and I've still been able to get back in each day to do it all over again. Inside, I'm giving myself high fives.

Today I had to drive back down the mountain and then up another one to get to Gorges State Park, which is a must when visiting this area according to social media and hospitality industry peeps. The girls seem okay with me planning everything as long as Darcy gets to visit the resort gym for her daily workout, and Madison gets to sleep in late. I had read that this area was the Waterfall Capital or some such moniker, and Christopher's suggestions all included waterfalls, so I took his information and my research and decided today was the State Park.

The directions were simple, and we found it with no problem. We parked at the welcome center, and while Madison went to use the restroom facilities, Darcy and I ventured inside. A ranger behind the desk observed us from her seat, and when I strode to the counter, she asked me if she could help me. It was said in a tone that made me think she didn't really want to do so. Very reluctantly.

One of the things my mother taught me was to defer to the experts when in doubt. My father taught me to use people's names when conversing. I use both advice often, making sure I always let the experts know while using their given names, that I trust them thoroughly, whether I really do or not. 

Stroke their egos. 

I'm, if anything, a great game player. 

However, here in the Blue Ridge Mountains, nametags are hard to come by. It's thrown me off my game somewhat. 

Me: "Hello. We are first-time visitors and open to suggestions." 

Now, let me first say, I was dressed in my usual skort, which looks like a skirt because the shorts are entirely hidden, unlike the skorts of yesterday, where the shorts were visible from the back. These skorts look like skirts. I always let others know in certain situations, such as my drumming lesson, and when I get a pedicure, that I'm wearing shorts underneath the skirt to avoid excitement.

Me: "FYI, before anyone gets excited, I'm wearing a skort with shorts underneath, so settle down."

This is all to say, I wasn't exactly wearing hiking clothing, and while I was comfy, the Ranger should've taken a look at us before she offered hiking trail advice. Just saying...

Shorts, shirts, tennis shoes, and my skort... Not hiking boots. We had no water. No hats. No sunscreen. No hiking sticks. We were typical tourists and very ill-informed ones at that. Had I been the Ranger, I would've eyeballed us and then sent us to the .8 mile meandering through pretty scenic butterfly trail. 

But not this Ranger.

This Ranger gave a heavy sigh, heaved herself out of her chair, came to the counter, and pointed at the map before me. In a very grouchy tone...

Her: "Well, everyone and his brother wants to see Rainbow Falls. It's right here on the map. It isn't in the park, but you can only get to it from the park. That's what everyone wants to see. Go out the parking lot, take a right, drive a half a mile, and you'll see the signage. Park and follow the directions. The trail is 1.5 miles in."

Then she returned to her seat. Job complete.

That was it. No helpful advice like I was told to expect via my Yelp app. In those reviews, I heard about the helpful Rangers who warned hikers of bears and prepared hikers with water and sunscreen. 

So, I took the map, bought two water bottles (sorry for the plastic usage Jason Mamoa, but sincerely, shouldn't State and National Parks be avoiding that?), jokingly discussed purchasing a walking stick and left to follow Ranger Can't Be Bothered's instructions. 

Before we even got on the trail, signage warned us of the many dangers: severe injuries on the trails, falling rocks, slippery rocks, death. Death was mentioned several times. We joked about the signs out loud, but inside each one of us wondered what we were about to get ourselves into. But since we were there...

In my mind, the trail would be this worn, dirt path covered in the occasional leaves. Which it was--at the entrance in the pictures above. After that, it was more like the rainforest in Costa Rica. There was a path, but it was muddy, uneven, rocky, and wooded. You know, like nature, a trail in the middle of a forest on a mountain. The kind of path where a nice hiking stick would've been useful.

Everyone we passed, or I should say those who passed us, were hikers. Like professional people decked out in ankle hiking boots and thick socks. Hiking shorts with multiple pockets that I expect housed compasses, trail mix packets, and emergency supplies. They carried water canteens and used hiking sticks attached to their wrists. We should've turned back after the first two groups, but we kept joking about getting in our steps.

We came to a stream that we had to cross. It required much balancing on my part to not get my shoes and ankles wet. At that point, I quit taking pictures and just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and in breathing. The first half mile was downhill. The last half mile was uphill. I was bent over, hands on my knees, trying in vain to catch my breath and slow my heart rate. Then we came to a set of stairs. Giant, widely spaced steps that went up, up, up, and when I got to another staircase, I urged the girls to go without me, and I collapsed on a giant rock. 

Where I sat for ten minutes, catching my breath and moaning my misspent youth. And for being out of shape and fat. And for becoming my mother on vacation twenty years before even she became that person. But mostly on my youth. 

I also checked the map and discovered that this hike was labeled Strenuous. Unlike the other walks in the park that were labeled Easy and Moderate. Strenuous!

Then one of the girls' heads popped up, and she shouted that the falls were not far and I drug myself upright and made it up the fifty million steps to the trail that led to the falls.

It was beautiful. I'm not sure it was worth the hike to get there, but it was beautiful and cooler with the spray hitting us. There was another path to another falls, but even the girls opted out of seeing it, despite my encouragement. We hung out at the falls for a long time. Because we knew what we had to do to get back to the car. And we were out of water.

On the first mile to the falls, I began writing my second book. On the first mile back to the van, I wrote the letter I wanted to send Ranger Can't Be Bothered. Both of those got me through the first mile. The second mile? Ugh. It was all about breathing. One point five miles my ass. Our Apple Watches put the hike at 4 miles, and it took us over two hours.

By the last half mile, Madison was bent double, and I had resorted to sucking on the ice cubes left in Darcy's water bottle. Anything to moisten my dry mouth. Even Little Miss Daily Workout was complaining about the cardio she was getting. I spent the last half mile hearing our friend Karl Smith in my ear. He was an avid, experienced hiker who owned a walking stick and wrote about his adventures. I was one of the people who got to read his typed blog back in the day, and boy, was he giving me hell while entertaining me with the things he would write about me on this little adventure.

Signs, people. I'm a believer. Karl got me out of those woods.

We were never happier than when we saw our van. We headed back to our resort, where we drank glasses and glasses of water. Then Darcy headed off to the gym while Maddy and I showered, and then Maddy rallied to cook dinner.

We toasted our adventure and our lives with some wine and were in bed before midnight.