Take a Hike

 

My husband and I used to hike all of the time. When we first started dating, we burned up the trails in the State and National Parks of North Georgia. In fact, my hubby planned for our first kiss to take place on a boulder, in a stream, below a waterfall. He carried strawberries, Champagne and plastic flutes in his backpack. Who’s the romantic one?

Of course, it was hotter than the ten shades of you know where and he wasn’t counting on sharing the moment with fifty strangers who also thought it’d be a good idea to hike to the falls that day. The best laid plans and all…. I also played a part in the ruination of our romantic moment when he walked me to my door the night before our planned hike. “Are you gonna kiss me or not?” It ain’t just a song by Thompson Square. I was a little impatient since we’d been dating a few weeks by then.

We took a break from hiking while living on the Gulf Coast but now that we are near the foothills of the Appalachians again, we’ve resumed one of our favorite pastimes with slightly less exuberance than in our younger days. My hubby, also known as the mountain goat, wishes we’d hike more. I gave him the nickname after a hike to the cross in Innsbruck, Austria. He left me with the other tourists and blazed a new trail. He took several pictures to show me what I missed. There were mountain goats and he even discovered a dead one that slipped on the ice. (It was July and there were still patches of snow and ice.)

Most recently, we chased waterfalls with our family near Cheaha State Park. All of us wore sneakers except for the mountain goat who sported flip flops. Part of the terrain was steep and difficult to maneuver even in sturdy shoes. Once again, my man blazed new trails by rock jumping over the river to explore the other side. Famous words of the day from MG: “If you can do it in flip flops, it’s not a hike.” The other famous words were from a four year old who suggested that since we didn’t have swimsuits and the falls looked like a good place to swim, that we should take our clothes off and go in the water. Again, about thirty strangers would’ve gotten to enjoy that view…or run screaming.

I know the phrase “Take a hike” conveys that you want a person to go away but I can’t remember ever using it in that derogatory manner. If someone says that at our house, we start lacing up our hiking boots and knocking the dust off the trekking poles.

When was the last time you took a hike? Flip flops count in my book.