Wrong Turn Ahead
Ty and I climbed a mountain.
Walked up it, actually.
So we go up this mountain, with ease, might I add.
We get to the top where Ty runs for about 400 yards nonstop (except the few brief face-falls when he tripped over rocks, but he'd just pick himself right up and continue on running).
So we're at the top of the mountain when my camera died.
And my spare battery was in the cabin, in my purse.
I should have turned around then and gone back to the cabin.
But Ty wanted to follow the teenagers that had climbed the mountain in front of us.
So we followed them (he thought there would be treasure at the top of the mountain).
And we're going down these trails that are nice, gentle slopes which turn into moderately steep, rocky slopes. Not the kind of rock you can get a footing on, either. Loose rock. The kind that gives way and leaves you on your tushie.
Fortunately, Ty and I were possibly the only ones who didn't experience that first-hand.
We had caught up with the teens and basically merged with them at this point, so they grabbed on to Ty's other hand, giving him a double cushion to hold him up if he lost his footing.
Fortunately, this was unnecessary in the end and only resulted in sweaty hands.
After the steep, rocky slopes the land leveled out into smooth, grassy trails at an easy incline. And then the trail (to me) stopped. However, two boys said they'd been down it before. One had taken one trail and the other had taken the other trail and both had made it safely back.
So they picked a trail and Ty and I followed.
Here, too, I should have turned back and gone back to the cabin, even though it meant climbing the mountain all over again.
Instead, we followed the teens into a wooded "trail" that eventually ended. Of course, it didn't immediately appear it had ended, it just looked as though thorns and stickers had grown up in patches between it and another slightly visible trail.
After about five of these trails I recommended backtracking and going back to the trails. They were, after all, five teenagers and I had my four-year old boy to worry about. Carrying him through a briar-patch wasn't on my list of things to do.
At this point we realized there was no backtracking. There was only "go in the general direction of the camp". (Which I got huffy with the boys several times for disregarding).
Finally, after about 30 minutes I laid down the Mama tone.
"Get back here, now! Camp is THAT WAY (pointing in opposite direction), we will go THAT WAY."
"But I found another trail!"
"Yes, I'm sure you did. And it leads to another briar patch! This way!"
About this time we sent out text messages to various individuals asking them to ring the camp bell so we could confirm that I was in fact right. Actually, we worded it that we wanted to get ourselves oriented.
So, we finally headed in that direction.
And everyone seems to have panicked except us. The girls started getting panicked phone calls. We were assuring everyone that we were close (close enough to hear voices and yelling from the games) but we just had to find a way through all the briars.
Finally we made it to the power lines (at this point I'm carrying Ty to keep him out of the thorns) and from there we walked down them to the camp.
Where the camp "Ranger/Medic" met us and scolded us for going up that trail.
At that point I didn't care enough to tell him that we didn't go up THAT trail, it just happened to be the one we found to come back down.
We're back in the cabins now.
My legs and arms are laced with scratches. I have a gash in the palm of my right hand and it almost looks like a smiley face cut into the back of that same hand.
But, Ty's been begging me to walk up the mountain.
And by golly, we walked up the mountain!
More adventures to come when I get back in town and get a chance to write them out.
Ashley is a thirty-something wife and mother of two boys. She enjoys spending time with her family, as well as reading and decorating their home. Her blogging adventures began in 2006 as a single mother and have carried on through marriage and a new life with a husband, a ten-year-old, and an infant.