Summer of Shanley

I know I’ve written about my love affair with Harbor Springs before, but since it’s part of the tour, I wasn’t going to let it go by without a few words. When I was planning my move across the country I wasn’t quite sure where Harbor Springs was going to fit in. Would I try to go after camp? Just go for a few days for Sarah’s wedding?  But when I found out that the family would be honoring Mrs. Keller, who was an absolute legend and an honor to even be in the company of, with a celebration of her life, I knew I had to zig when I should have zagged and made my way up and over from Charlotte.  For so many reasons, I am so glad I did.  Twenty plus years of visiting this place and it has yet to lose its magic. 

A day before even getting here, Georgia, the youngest of the family and quite possibly one of my favorite people in the world was sending me “spotted” pictures.  It’s a little bit of a tradition of ours, well mostly hers making fun of me.  Whenever she spots the boat of this guy I used to “date” many years ago, she will send me photos of it.  And really, I am not sure you can even call it dating as in reality, 6 dates in the Harbor Springs bubble is equivalent to maybe 1 and a half in the real world.  But anyway it was a fun and funny “Welcome back to Harbor Springs”

In the first 45 minutes of arriving in Harbor Springs, I’d reunited with an old friend for a quick hug before being whisked off to “family dinner”.  While I think of them as my second family, I also knew that their real family would be in town for the memorial and they might not need an extra guest.  I was met with a barrage of “absolutely not you are family.” and so I stayed.  Porch life is a thing here in Michigan.  One does not simply use their porch for sitting.  Here it is used to catch up with an old friend, have cocktails before dinner and sometimes to put all the tables you have together and throw a Perch on the Porch dinner party.  It’s weird, not that I’ve ever been in a place where I could have my own home, but from coming up here, I think the first thing I would look for in a house is a porch and to make sure it has room for all of these wonderful human interactions to happen.  We capped the first night in Harbor Springs off with Badminton until it got dark and 4 cartons of Ice Cream!

Part of me wanted to sleep in the next morning and let my body revel in the idea that for the next 6 days my car and items in my car would be completely safe.  As I traveled around this past month, I realized that a small piece of me was always tense and wondering if when I’d get to my car in the morning if it would have been broken into.  Every time anyone’s alarm went off, I’d assume it was mine, but being too scared to go out and check I’d wave my keys from some hotel window and hope it would turn off.   One night, I might have googled, “How easy is it to steal a Subaru” after someone’s (not mine I later realized) alarm kept going off. I’m not sure what I thought that would do for my anxiety, but I can strongly say it was not positive.

Even though I wanted to stay in bed, Harbor Springs was waiting.  It sure wasn’t going to run itself on my favorite route through the woods and then downtown for an iced tea to walk back with.  I had to shake off the sleeps and get moving. 

When you run in Harbor Springs, you might as well be running a race.  And not because you need to be going so fast, but everyone in their own little way is cheering you on. Whether it’s the little guy on the strider bike telling you to “run, run” or the dozens of cheerful, “mornings” accompanied by waves, your spirit is just lifted.  And if you’re lucky on your walk back one of your friends and their children will be outside almost ready to start the day but not quite because they are still in their jammies.  I got this kind of lucky and got to spend a solid 45 minutes or so catching up with these friends while their 3 year old schooled me in our heated match of over the path tennis.  I kid you not, he’s amazing and also told me, “I’m better than you because I practice.” It always makes me so happy when I see kids actually playing outside and getting to join in on that play is even better.

As I mentioned my main purpose for this visit was Mrs. Keller’s celebration of life.  And what a life it was to celebrate.   One of my favorite things about Mrs. Keller was her way to pull you into one of her amazing life experiences.  I will forever remember her riding her bike…right up until she was 91 and throwing you a cheerful “yoohoo” your way.  Over the weekend of stories shared, I found out that not only was she still out on the golf course into her 90’s but on her 90^th birthday she shot an Eagle on the 7^th hole at the Wequetonsing Golf Club.  This gives me about 50 years to try and catch up to that amazing feat.  The message that I think everyone left with after the service, was to welcome people into your life the way Mrs. Keller did, whether it was on to her porch or into her heart she had a way of making everyone feel important and welcome.

One morning I was trying to not only go for a run but also catch up with my dear friend Katie before her family went out on the boat to watch the Regatta races.  As they were getting ready to go her husband Ravi just assumed I was coming with them and when I said, I wasn’t they all said why not?  I didn’t have a reason and was happy to join them.  Katie kidded me with a “The only thing is we won’t have a Gurney’s for you.”  I jokingly said I had to decline but then quickly raced back home to get my suit, sunscreen, and some snacks from my car to be my lunch.  We had a fabulous day on the water filled with catching up, catching some sun and some fabulous Dad jokes from Katie’s dad. He’s still got it!  Oh yeah, and the races were pretty amazing too!

One of the key factors in why I love my time in Michigan so much is because I get to spend time with Georgia.  She and I began our “friendship” when she was 5 and I was 19.  She will tell you she was 4 but I’ve done the math and I don’t think that’s right;) We’ve grown from me telling her to make her bed before she goes out to late-night walks about our lives.  On this trip, it was no different.  Some nights we found ourselves walking and then deciding to go swimming. Others we ended up wet because we stayed out so late that the sprinklers came on!  And some we found ourselves wrapped up in board games until late into the evening.  I actually might have dethroned the Boggle Queen last night!

I will sometimes joke and say that everything is better in Harbor Springs.  There have been summers I was injured and couldn’t run and it didn’t feel like the end of the world. Summers I wound up in the hospital and yet somehow still had a positive view on it.  Heck, I even liked yoga when it was in Harbor Springs.  This summer was no different.  Unfortunately, mid cookie purchase, I found out that my debit card was declined.  I assumed at first that maybe they flagged it with all my traveling and I could fix it, so I rushed out leaving the cookie I started to eat as she was ringing me up on the counter.  It was not as quick as I would have hoped to fix and it’s not really fixed yet, but I did hurry back later that day to pay for my cookies.  Mostly the half-eaten one as I had figured that maybe they’d have put the ones I was planning to mail to a friend back.  After waiting in line and getting ready to give an apology for earlier, the young girl working the counter brought me my cookies (half-eaten one and all) and then told me, “You’re all set. Someone paid for them.”  Me, “What?”. Her,  “Yeah someone paid for them.” I don’t know who it was, but I will chalk it up to the fact that even a compromised bank card can turn into a positive thing in Harbor Springs.  It’s like Magic!

As much as I love Harbor Springs and going up there, I’ve often struggled with the fact that it came to me through someone else’s life or that I wasn’t raised “summering” up there as a child.  I’m constantly asked, “Oh you know so and so right.” To which I usually say, no I don’t know anyone except the same people, I’ve always known and if I’m being honest, I like it that way.  This summer I was stopped by a lovely woman who I’ve met at least a dozen times and she asked me, “Now remind me again who you belong to?”  I typically balk at these questions as I have to explain that while Louisa and the kids are like my family, I was once their sitter aka “the help”.  But you know what this time I didn’t hesitate because I think I belong to all the people I just wrote about and even some I didn’t.  I will always be someone’s love bug, the girl who broke through their screen door, the short one who can never get into your truck and always gives you a good laugh, their third daughter and mostly their friend. The ones that matter most always make me feel like I belong and that’s all that really matters.

As always you’ve set my soul on fire for another year Harbor Springs and I thank you.  I actually am not as sad as I usually am as I leave, because I will be heading back up in a few weeks for a wedding, so technically it’s not quite goodbye yet. XOXO, Summer Girl

The next chunk of my trip took me to on a journey back in time to a place of gaslit lamps, southern belles and good old fashion manners.  From Alabama, I made my way to Savannah, Georgia then on to Charleston, South Carolina and ended in Charlotte, North Carolina. 

In Savannah, yet another one of my amazing gal pals from grad school decided to join me.  Both Kim and her mom made a trip down to Savannah that coincided with my journey home.  I don’t know how I got so lucky that they would choose to come to Savannah in July when your face pretty much melts off as soon as you step outside, but I’m sure glad they did.  Since it was more than a little bit hot out, we decided to explore some of the sites by one of the hop on hop off trolley tours to try and stay “cool”.  As we boarded the trolley, we were immediately introduced to our new friend and quite possibly the ace of Savannah, Gertrude.  Gertrude was dressed in full regalia of a southern belle complete with a fan in case she all of a sudden got a case of the vapors and needed to fan herself.  When I listened to her tell us folklore of Savannah, she was so convincing and entertaining, I had to keep reminding myself that I didn’t just jump in Marty McFly’s Delorean and go back in time.

  As we hopped on different trolleys and tours throughout the next two days, we very quickly realized that most Savannah legends are sprinkled with a little truth and then it is up to the storyteller to decide how much embellishment is needed to sell the story.   I guess that’s how most stories that are passed down from generation to generation end up.  One of Savannah’s claim to fame is Jones Street. One tour guide would tell us, it’s been voted prettiest street in the country, another would say the prettiest street in the south and yet another, prettiest street in all of Savannah and even try to convince you that that is where the saying, “Keeping up with the Jones’” came from.    I will say this, it’s quite lovely, but I am leaning toward option #3 minus the saying as that came from a comic strip from 1913.  That first tour guide might need to branch out a little bit more before making that bold “in the country” statement. He clearly has never been down Main St. in Harbor Springs at Christmas time. 

Another aspect of Savannah that is highly touted is that they’ve landed somewhere on the list of “America’s Most Haunted Cities.”  Now I don’t know if you’ve been following along all summer or if you just jumped in, but if you’re thinking hmmm strange that a girl who’s legit afraid of the dark would go to a “haunted” city?  I can honestly say, it’s not the first thing that pops up when you google “Top 10 things to do in Savannah”.  I mean sure I saw they had a Ghosts and Graveyards Tour, but I’m pretty sure Boston has one and I’ve never seen any t-shirts that say “Boston…America’s Most Haunted” on them so I didn’t think it was a thing.  Oh, it is.  They all love to tell you the “most haunted” houses which of course depending on who you ask and a what time of day, it all changes.   We decided that we’d be brave and take one of the Ghosts and Graveyards tour one night. Obviously, when I say we, I mean me.  I’m sure most other adults don’t have to work themselves up to participate in these things.  I can proudly say I was not really scared nor did any spirits come back to haunt me (well not yet anyway…maybe they are waiting for the right moment). However, THE BEST part of the tour was when we were listening to the “spooky” happenings in this one mansion and Kim’s mom taps this young gentleman of maybe 13 or 14 on the shoulder from behind and he jumped so high and gave quite the yelp.  My initial reaction was, “Holy crap, Janet is freaking hysterical to scare that stranger.”  Turns out she just couldn’t see and the boy was in her way.  Kim and I both got a case of the church giggles and that was pretty much the end of that tour guide’s story. 

One thing I found myself doing when I was in Savannah was using a Southern accent.  I reckon I did a mighty fine job of passing myself off as someone from the south. Well at least in my mind I did.  All too quickly I had to say goodbye to Kim and her mom and get on my way to my next destination, Charleston, South Carolina. 

Okay, do y’all remember back in New Mexico when I wanted to and did sleep with the light on because my killer deal of a room for 34 dollars a night had me thinking I just might get killed? Well, I decided that I was going to have a bit of a “treat yo self” moment in Charleston and basically booked one of the bougiest places.  Oh Man, when I walked into that lobby, I fell in love.  And no ma’am, I do not mean with another human.  The doors open automatically and you find yourself in an oasis of blues and reds and oranges and lights aglow.  Don’t even get me started on my room…to die for.  I knew that I was being a little frivolous with my money but shoot gosh darn, this was totally worth it. 

Charleston was behaving just as poorly as its sister to the south Savannah in the heat department.  One day, my phone read “feels like 105”!!! Don’t forget we are no longer in the land of dry heat. This was with 95% humidity.   Luckily for me, the hotel had three pools.  I decided the first afternoon after check-in, I’d hunker down by the pool, enjoy the “treat of the day” (which was ice cream or popsicle) and catch up on some of my library books that were about to expire.  I don’t know about ya’ll but when all the library books you put on hold come in and all the deadlines are fast approaching it can be very stressful.   Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to waste all my time in Charleston by the pool.  Heat or no heat, I was going to get myself out there.  The next day, I woke up bright and early in an attempt to beat the heat and crowds.  My first stop, Boone Hall Plantation.  If you grew up in New England like me, the only plantation you’ve probably been to is the Plymouth Plantation and that is a museum and this, as I was told, was still a working plantation.  I also was told that the movie The Notebook was filmed here and I think you’d be hard pressed to find someone that didn’t want a little Noah and Allie magic in their lives…even if it was only by proxy.  If you ever do take a trip down to the Boone Hall Plantation here are my recommendations for you.  Absolutely roam all the grounds. They really do let you go almost anywhere and it is stunning.  Walk down the Avenue of the Oaks, visit the stables, go to the docks and of course if you’re a total goof like me do a little impromptu photo shoot by the water with your selfie stick when nobody is looking of course.

 Plan to spend time at the Gullah Theater.  Here you will be told the story of the Gullah Geechee people who are descendants from slaves that were taken from Western Africa in the 1500s.  You will not only be enlightened by how their culture of a nation within a nation truly came to be and withhold itself today, but I promise you, you will be entertained by the storytelling, songs, and traditions of the Gullah people.  My favorite part was learning all the Gullah sayings.  These little sayings that are spoken so quickly were a way for the Gullah Geechee to communicate without their masters not knowing what they were saying.  This language and these sayings are still in use to this day.  My personal favorites were, “workin’ from can’t see to can’t see”, which meant you were working before sun up and after sundown, “greasin’ yo mout”, which meant stuffing your face and the last “her hand is short of patience” meaning you were a bit of thief and to watch out for that one. Take a walk down Slave Street, a perfect row of brick houses that start with their Praise House.  See the conditions in which the privileged slaves lived. In my opinion, you can skip the guided tour of the residence.  The house that you see in The Notebook and in the movie North and South is not the original farmhouse. It’s not even the second house, the first being lost in a fire or the third for that matter when the second was lost in a tropical storm.  This house was only built there in the early 1950s.  I’m not positive but I think my childhood home is older than that, so nothing too exciting inside except for some antiques that were collected by the owners at that time and I think the Gullah Theater captures the history of the plantation much better.   Before the temperatures got to that feels like 105, I took a stroll on down to historic Charleston and wandered their city market, Rainbow Row and all the little alleys surrounding the street that the Rainbow Row is on.

If you don’t tell Savannah, I would venture to say that these alleyways are some of the prettiest streets in the south.  One funny thing that did happen in Charleston was that while I was out for dinner at night, the hotel would come in and provide turndown service.  I’m guessing from their work, this hotel does not see a lot of female solo travelers.  That’s ok, I put the robe and slippers to good use while I stayed up into the wee hours working on my last blog post.  

My last stop on my love affair with the south would be Charlotte, North Carolina.  My cousin Mary Kate moved down there quite some time ago and she was going to be my hostess with the mostest for some good old-fashioned family fun.  Not only had I never been to Charlotte to see her, but I’d also never even met her children, so this was going to be one bonus of a stop along the journey.  My cousin has definitely been following along in my journey and life and when I arrived there was a box of Duck Donuts, just waiting for me to dig into on her table.  After a quick peek in the box to see which one I would be sinking my teeth into later, Mary Kate and I sat down to chat and picked up right where we’d left off.  That night we took the kids to a restaurant that was loaded with games.  I don’t want to mar the reputation of this place and call it an adult Chuck E. Cheese, but it did have Skee ball.  In addition to Skee -ball there was an air hockey table that I would soon lose (ever so graciously by the way since we are in the south) to Mary Kate’s oldest.  She is one fierce competitor! 

The next day we took our playful skills to the pool where she and I perfected our handstands and if I’m not bragging received perfect 10’s from the judge. Grant it, the judge was my cousin and her mother but that is neither here nor there. That night, MK’s running friends were treating her for her birthday that had just passed and I got to tag along. It was fun getting to know her pals and get a glimpse into her life down here.  While her friends headed home after dinner, she and I decided that it was silly to head home while the sun had yet to set. 

We walked over to a steak house that was in the same neighborhood as the restaurant we’d had dinner. We decided to have a drink at the bar and then see if we wanted to go to another place or go home.  Upon opening their drink menu, MK mentioned to me, “Oh they have sparkling.”  I’m not a huge drinker, but I do love a glass of bubbles now and again.  I looked at what they had, looked again a little harder and then asked her if I was reading it right, “Dom Perignon for 15 dollars?”.    I was not reading it wrong, so without hesitation, I jumped on that.  However, when I got the bill and our drinks came to $81 dollars, that $15 dollar glass turned into a $45 dollar glass. Know this, no glass of anything is worth $45 dollars in my opinion.  I don’t usually complain about a bill or even my food for that matter, but I felt like maybe there was a little miscommunication.  Upon asking them to see the menu I pointed out the printed price of $15.  Sure enough, they’d recently had their menus reprinted and whoever was in charge of printing AND proofing it apparently got it wrong.  Their mistake was my gain, got the glass for $15 after all.  We spent the rest of our night enjoying each other’s company and sometime later that night found ourselves at a dive bar karaoke joint. One of us even got on stage with a stranger for what I’m sure was one of the worst renditions of the Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow duet of Picture.  There is video, I had some killer stage presence and while it doesn’t make up for my nails on a chalkboard vocals, I at the very least looked the part.  Like with most of these little visits, they come to an end much too soon, but for MK and I the goodbye was more of a see you later.  In a few weeks, we will be running the Falmouth Road Race together.  Together is a very loose term.  She’s a speed demon and I’m your 75 year old grandma on a good day. 

While in the South, I not only decided I wanted to talk like them, I also decided I wanted to bring some of that southern charm home with me.  I kept saying, I’m going to bring this back, I’m going to be so nice to everyone.  I don’t even care if I’m called Ma’am like 70 times a day, the southern way has enraptured my soul. Even leaving Starbucks as they hand you your drink they truthfully and cheerfully say, “Let me know if you don’t love it, ma’am”.    Here’s where I was a little torn…what if I didn’t love it? Is it the southern way to just drink it or tell them they messed up?  Maybe I wasn’t quite made for this after all, but wanting to be a little nicer to people can’t hurt me too much now, can it?

I’ve landed in what I always call my happy place of Harbor Springs Michigan.  I’m pretty sure it is the cause of this last blog post being so late. I get here and I seem to forget everything else that is outside of this bubble. I will be here for a few more days before heading to camp, so be prepared to see my love affair with the south abruptly end and take a back seat to my forever love up north.  Hope this all finds you well and being kind to one another. XOXO, Caitlin

I’ve waited quite a few days to write about my time in both Memphis and Alabama. I’ve been struggling a bit to figure out how to put into words the things my eyes saw and my heart felt . While Memphis is well known to have birthed Rock n Roll at its famous Sun Studio and also The King himself, Mr. Elvis Presley having his famous Graceland home there, what I would find there that moved me more than any hip shaking Elvis song could, was the National Civil Rights Museum located inside the repurposed Lorraine Motel.  If you are unfamiliar with the Lorraine Motel, it is the motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was the day of his assassination.  Outside room 306 was where he stood before James Earl Ray fired those fateful shots.  I am sure it was no mistake that as you head to the entrance of the museum, you pass right by that room and see the flowered wreath that still lies there in his honor.  Taking a minute, I stood there and thought about how a story I have heard countless times was really unfolding in front of me for the first time.

Please know that anything I say or I guess in essence write about my experience in these places comes from a place that knows its privilege.  These are simply my feelings and experiences not my opinions that I think should be listened to.  This is a very similar feeling I had when I wrote about my experience at Dachau Concentration Camps while in Germany last summer.  I felt, “Who am I, to write these things, share these thoughts?”  

The National Civil Rights Museum provides you with an in-depth look and timeline from when Slaves were first brought from West Africa all the way up to the present day.  There is so much that is simply glossed over in American History. Growing up, I think my history books would have had me believing that slavery ended with Lincoln and all is good now.  Thankfully, I didn’t stick to those history books and have tried to dig and find as much as I can of the truth and what lies beneath it.  When you enter the first part of the exhibit, there are a few statues and life-size depictions.  One of which I had seen portrayed in books, but I was not prepared to see it to scale. 

I would find myself having to walk away from certain exhibits because I would be in tears and didn’t think I had the right to be. But I thought any human with a heart has to feel this and how terribly wrong it all was. 

As I walked through time, I began to see storylines I recognized and ones that brought new light to things I had already thought I knew. In regards to segregation in schools, I had known about “The Little Rock Nine”, knew who Ruby Bridges was and also knew all about Brown vs. the Board of Education.  But when I sat myself down in a mock desk with a first-grade girl’s face staring back at me with the note that said when they chose the younger children to integrate, they’d hoped it would lead to less violence.  I can’t imagine being in a space where you had to choose your children as your first line of offense to fight for what should have truly been yours, to begin with.  And it wasn’t just young children, it was high school children and college students.  All wanting to be given the same chance as their white neighbors.  People might argue with me and say a college student isn’t a child or a kid in high school isn’t a child, but think about how you’d talk about the children in your family and ask yourself if you ever don’t think of them as children.  These children lived their lives like adults and the adults they met in protest acted as if they were children…very very vile children. 

There is a piece of black history that I’m sure everyone knows.  That is the day that an “old” woman named Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat at the front of the bus.   I put old in quotes for a reason.  For one, Rosa Parks wasn’t old.  Heck, I’m not too proud to say that she was just a year and a half older than I am now and I’m not old.  I don’t know if I’m alone in this, but when I recall learning about her, she was old.  That was the story I remember. I mean sure 42 probably seemed ancient to me, but I only learned of her exact age a few months ago, as I got older myself why didn’t I see her for what she was….a trailblazer in her own right for sure, but a women of middle age, not someone’s grandma.  It also is a known fact that she wasn’t the first black woman to refuse to give up her seat on a bus, it was Claudette Colvin a 15-year-old girl who 9 months prior had refused and was arrested.  Because Claudette was a teenager and pregnant the NAACP did not think she would be a good face for their movement because people would only focus on her being pregnant and not what she stood for.  In steps, or sits a Secretary for the NAACP, Ms. Rosa Parks.  The museum has a life-sized bus with a replica of Ms. Parks on the bus and you can go inside.  What happens after you walk in is you are barraged with blasting audio of insults and threats that were made to Rosa on that day.  I lasted all of 20 seconds after they started, she sat through it all. I don’t know if I can gain that kind of grit and courage in the next year and a half, but I want to hope it’s what I will strive for.

As I turned another corner, I was met by another bus. Only this bus had been burned and almost demolished.  This was the representation of the Freedom Riders bus that was firebombed in Anniston, Alabama.  Another example of children being attacked by grown men and people looking the other way.  One 12-year-old white girl named Janie Miller decided that she could not look the other way and tried to help the victims choking from the smoke by bringing them water.  Janie and her family were soon run out of their town by the KKK.  Both my bus experiences made me a little sick and once again I found myself tearing up and having to walk away. I wanted to think I could be brave like Janie and just sit with my feelings but I wasn’t.

Of all the exhibits and all the feelings, it wasn’t a particular exhibit that gave me my biggest emotional response, it was what I witnessed while I was watching a short clip of ‘Bloody Sunday’ in Selma, Alabama.  I wasn’t alone in this little viewing area.  I was sharing the space with a mom and her young son.  I noticed as we began watching people, not too much older than her son get savagely beaten she quietly reached for his hand and did not let it go.  Because of the color of her son’s skin, she will always have to worry about what is going to happen when she lets go of his hand.  She can’t trust that even if he does everything right, someone else won’t see his color first and his actions second.  I want to wish that as we watched a film of something that had happened over 50 years ago we’d have come further than this, but if we are all honest with ourselves we haven’t.  On my journey across the country I’ve been pulled over twice (so far), sorry Mom and Dad that this is the first time you are hearing about this.  In both instances, I was doing something wrong, speeding.  In both cases, I was let go with a warning.  Was it my skin color? I don’t know?  It certainly was not my cool demeanor when the officers pulled me over.  If anyone knows me I do not do well with getting in trouble, heck I have a hard time jaywalking so I was a bit unnerved.  But yet I drove away with no fine, no hassle and no more than a “be careful out there.” One is left to wonder.  I’m also left to know I need to slow down.

I decided that after leaving Memphis, I would drive to Birmingham,  Alabama, stay the night and then get up in the morning to walk around some of the places I had learned about.  I wanted to visit the Kelly Ingram Park that was a focal point of the Children’s Crusade.  In 1963 children as young as 8 years old walked out of their schools and began a peaceful march.  It didn’t stay peaceful for long.  These children were met with high-pressure water cannons and over 600 of them were arrested…including the 8-year-olds.  Upon entering the park you are met with a statue to commemorate the four girls who would in 1964 lose their lives in the 16th Street Baptist church bombing. 

Actually, if you turned your body around from the statues you’d be staring at the place those girls took their last breaths, giggling while they put on their choir robes.  I knelt down at the statue and said a little prayer for those children and as I got up, I saw another group of children on what looked like a field trip.  It reminded me of when I visited the Concentration Camps in Germany. I was told that once you are in 8th grade in Germany you are required to visit the camps as part of your education and of what has happened in your own country.  It made me think about it then and even more now.  These places and faces need to be on the field trip lists for children in the United States.  I can’t tell you how many times I didn’t need to go to the Museum of Science…again.    I started my walk and was soon joined by an older gentleman that wanted to tell me even more history than I could have learned from just reading the plaques.  He was two years old and living right on that block when the bomb went off.  And not that he remembers, but his family’s stories of that time were perfectly engrained in his mind to tell me.  After a few moments, he asked me if I wanted to walk with him to see more, to learn more.  I wondered if maybe at some point, he might ask for a donation or something, but I knew that even if he did it would all be worth it.  Fred took me to the statue of his granddad Reverend Smith who was kneeling alongside the two other clergymen who “filled in” when Dr. King was arrested.  He was afraid I wouldn’t believe him that it was his grandfather, so he pulled out his license and told me I could look it up.  I never did. Didn’t need to. 

While we walked through the park he told me the significance of some of the brick colorings.  The bricks were red, brown, yellow, black and white to signify the bible song the children could be heard chanting in the park on the days of the march. The lyrics read:

“Jesus loves the little children

All the children of the world
Red, brown, yellow
Black and white
They are precious in His sight.
Jesus loves the little children
Of the world.”

The bricks and the song reminded me of a picture I saw the day before also speaking about god and love.  Is it so hard to think that we are all equal of whatever god you pray to’s love?   

Fred told me he also wanted me to see some other parts of Birmingham and asked me cautiously, “Uh do you know the Temptations?”  Umm, I get it, when you look at me I scream NKOTB, Backstreet Boys, NSync, but sir I have been in love with the boy bands long before my time and who didn’t know and love the Temptations.  I even got up on stage with them and did my best “My Girl.”

Fred also took me to the Barber College which was awesome and then we popped into the Civil Rights Center.  The volunteer working there started to ask me if I wanted to buy things and Fred quickly shook his head and escorted me out the door.  I was glad I stopped by the park that day and I was glad that Fred thought a gal like me might be interested in what he had to say.

Last stop in Alabama was Selma.  I wanted to stand on the Edmund Pettus Bridge and have some of the strength and courage that has crossed that bridge fill my soul.  I will never have to face anything like those people did, but I do so hope if I’m faced with a situation where courage and fire under grace of epic proportions are needed, I will think of them and make my own waves.

I realize that in taking so long to write this, it has put me a bit behind in my posting.  I hope that now that I am over this hurdle, I will get back on track and put together my thoughts on Savannah and Charleston in a timely manner.  That last word was a hint about these places…the manners on these people…what a breath of fresh air.  I don’t even mind being called Ma’am 20 times a day.  But that is for another post.  I told myself I could write until 10:30 and then watch an episode of Stranger Things. It’s now 11:30, so I must go.  XOXO, Caitlin

When it started to become a reality that maybe I wasn’t going to get to stay in that cute Bayou Cabin in Louisiana and it wasn’t just my slightly weather obsessed parents being overprotective with their “Have you been checking the weather in Louisiana?”, “Did you get a chance to look at it?”. “I’m pretty sure it’s bad.”, I had to make a plan.  I had full intentions of quickly scanning a weather report and telling them I would be fine. The storm and I would have a standoff at the most and all would be ok.  However, Barry and his dang hurricane had other plans for me.   

I went into planner mode late one night at the ranch in Texas.  I would open my laptop, map something out, google a few things then close it and set it on the bedside table and try to sleep.  But then another idea would pop into my head so I’d go back, open up the laptop and start the process all over again.  Right before I finally found myself no longer able to keep my eyes open, I had my plan.  Now I just needed, four other people/families to make that plan come to fruition.

I was going to have the best dang detour there was if it was the last thing I did.  I couldn’t think of a better way to make that happen, then stopping in to see friends in all the places I never get to visit.  First stop, Austin Texas! 

In Austin, my friends Colin and Stin and their adorable little boys welcomed me with open arms.  Their dog Pre welcomed me in his typical fashion of excited jumps.  He and I have been friends for some time now and we fell into our old habits where I’m totally ok with him jumping up on me, but realize this isn’t a good habit so I act like I’m not going to pay any attention to him if he jumps.  Here, I was treated to a pool party followed by some serious puzzle making while we barbequed.  I had realized that my journey had made me quite the ace at the Map of the States puzzle!  After dinner, we settled into one bumping dance party where we learned that an almost 3-year-old requesting pop music from Alexa can turn into listening to “Paw Patrol” on repeat.  That night as I crawled into their guest bed, one I’ve visited and slept in before, I realized this is the most familiar bed I’ve slept in since June 28th and would be savoring every second.  Morning came too soon and with a promise of a read-aloud for the oldest and some breakfast tacos, I was off to my next stop.  Instead of going east to Louisiana, I was now going to head north in hopes of missing the storm and then cutting over to the south when the storm had ended.  Next up Keller, Texas.

Keller is where my dear friend Michelle from grad school lives with her family.  Throughout my trip, she was one of the friends who had reached out to find out my route in hopes of some sort of meet up.  I hadn’t intended to go through there, but it was a happy circumstance of the storm.  We didn’t have much time, between my wanting to see one more friend and her needing to bring her daughter to a birthday party, but man, did we fit in a lot into that hour and a half.  I don’t think either of us came up for air as we had sat in the backyard eating snacks that her husband brought out and drinking drinks that her sweet girl brought us. It was as if they knew we were going to need every minute to get to at least 1/5 th of the good stuff. Short, but oh so sweet.  Not too far to go for the next stop of Dallas, Texas.

Last year at Camp Shout Out, I shared a bunk with four utterly amazing SLPs.  One I had been friends with for a long time and three others I had just met.  Laura was one of those SLPs and she and I instantly connected. Her husband and my dad both went to the same Law School and he was a BC Eagle, but more importantly, we are both strong Team Pacey members and lovers of celebrity run-ins and or connections.  Although, I have to say hers with President Obama pretty much takes the cake.  All it took was a quick text of, “Hey do you think you might be around for a quick hug, high five or treat when I’m passing through” and I found myself welcomed into her lovely home, getting to meet her sweet children I had only heard stories and seen photos of and yet again working on the puzzle map of the United States.  Like with Michelle, Laura and I didn’t have much time, but we took the time we had to almost make it feel like we were back in those bunks again.  As our time was coming to a close, Laura would not let me leave without opening up her snack drawers and letting me have free reign.  As long as I didn’t take her son’s blue Gatorade, I was safe;) Or truth is, she said I could have taken it, we just couldn’t say the words “blue Gatorade” out loud or it might cause a stir.  Once again I was off…this time a little bit more of a drive.  Destination, Tahlequah Oklahoma and the War Eagle Resort.

The War Eagle is owned by my dear dear friend Ashley’s family.  It will be where we will all converge late September to witness her and Michael’s wedding.  Upon also checking on me to make sure I was “watching the storm”, I let Ashley know that I would be heading north.  In true Ashley fashion, before I could even say yes she had me booked into her family’s resort and had her sister and friends in the area ready to assist me with anything I needed.  At this point in the drive, I didn’t need much and was excited to check out another Oklahoma Sunset.  The last one I saw I was in a rental car rushing to Ashley’s engagement party in February.  With my room key in hand, I was on my way into what would turn out to be THE MOST tricked out room in terms of snacks.  Courtney, Ashley’s sister had made sure that my fridge was fully stocked with all the drinks and there lying on my bed was what one can only describe as a cornucopia of snacks…and a super cute resort t-shirt too!  While it was a fantastic surprise, I was not all that surprised. Ashley is one of the best surprisers and has done a few things like this for me in the past. It must run in the family.  I had big plans of running that morning, but there is no service at the resort and I had no idea where I was even trying to get to, so instead, I opted for a shower and decided to hit the road early.  Not without checking in at the front office, where I knew her mom would be working.  Once again I was showered with their family’s generosity and I think the office got a little giggle at my expense.  I made the mistake of saying how hot it was.  The young girl behind the desk said, “This is actually cool, so cool, someone came in this morning asking if it was too cool to be on the river.”  Yikes, what was I in for?  Since my GPS wouldn’t work for a few miles out, Ashley’s mom asked me what route I was taking.  She started mentioning numbers and letters like she was calling out at Bingo…” are you going to take I-10 to the 44 to the…” She had lost me.  What I planned to do was go wherever my phone told me to go.  Thankfully, she was able to get me on my way.  Heading up just a little bit more north to Kansas City, Kansas…and apparently Missouri too.

Before I would get to experience Kansas City itself from both sides, I found myself in Shawnee, Kansas, and guests of another dear grad school friend Erika and her darling family.  When I walked in the door, there was a chalkboard easel with the words “Welcome Caitlin” in bubble letters.  I found out later that Erika wasn’t crafting her bubble letter skills, but it was her oldest daughter, whom at this point I’d seen only in Christmas Cards.  The welcome sign did its job, I immediately felt welcome in their home.  Might have been the fact that Erika and her husband Tom are incredibly generous and entertaining hosts. Or could just be one of those feelings when you get when you are around your people.  I actually got to stay in Kansas for a full 23hrs before hitting the road again.  23hrs might not seem like a long time, but for me, at this point, it felt like days.  Similar to my time with Michelle, Erika and I picked up like no time had passed.  She had this amazing spread out for me and introduced me to the world of cotton candy grapes.  We have no idea how they are made, but I’m not sure I can go back to any other grape again.  On a quick snack break in the conversation, Erika laid out all the options for the night.  Anywhere from checking out the KC scene to staying in our PJs and hanging out.  Not knowing when I was going to get back to Kansas, I figured I should do it up properly.  And when I say properly this also included checking out their local Target…you never know what surprises you might find and I needed to restock a few things.  Before heading out for a few errands, I brought my bags up to their guest room.  Waiting for me here, was the cutest welcome basket of Kansas City favorites such as a Charlie Hustle t-shirt and a Starbucks mug from Kansas City.  My friends were literally running five-star resorts out of their homes.   When you are on the road there are some things you miss and for me, I figured out quickly, it was someone else driving.  As I slid into the passenger side of Erika’s car, well it was more of a hop-up but slid sounded better, anyway as I slid in, I realized my whole body just relaxed.  In our conversations, I had mentioned to Erika that I was thinking of finding a salon along the way to get my hair done…from all the sun it had started to show all those lovely red highlights and roots I am not a fan of.  While in Target and passing the at-home coloring, Erika just said, “Why don’t I just do it.” And so folks when we got back she and I were up in her bathroom catching up while she died my hair.  That night, she and Tom took me to some of the breweries in Kansas City.  Oh and I should mention, we were now on the Missouri side of Kansas City.  Apparently, Missouri claims all the cool parts of Kansas City with the exception of Janelle Monae…she’s Kansas City, Kansas.

My tour of Kansas City wasn’t quite complete until the next morning when we visited Hurts Donuts.  Their blueberry cake donut rivals any one I’ve had before and as we all know, I’ve had a lot of donuts.  Being in their home and even in their cars made my body and mind unwind.  It turns out that being there while maybe not the plan, was exactly what I had needed.

There are a lot of quotes out there about friendship. I think it was Oprah that said, “Surround yourself with those that lift you up higher.”  While I totally agree with Oprah, what I would say is get yourself friends who no matter what can just pick up where you left off as if you hit the pause button.  The ones who you don’t have to worry about “not texting” or making plans with. Maybe together you conquered what you thought was the hardest time in your life and share memories of a grad room that will never compare. Maybe they’ve only been in your life for a short time, but you both experienced the magic of something amazing or maybe you’ve seen them through many of their major milestones.  Whatever the circumstances, when the friends that come into your life that don’t require the work and the stress that we often force on ourselves, they are gold and should be treasured as so.  Hope you enjoyed the Detour, I know I did.  I was fully ready to begin again.  Next up, on to Memphis by way of Arkansas! XOXO

I know I said I’d get back to that story from the Bad Rabbit Café, but last night I arrived in Austin at my friends and by far and large found myself in THE most comfortable bed I’d been in since the movers took mine away on June 28^th.  So, instead of staying up to write, I went to bed and savored every last minute in that cozy bed.  So here we are two days later with the story I promised.  I say “promised” like you were all anxiously sitting at the edge of your seats or something (insert my self-directed eye roll here).

Let me just start by saying that West Texas is one big country song with it’s Amarillo Sky, Wide Open Spaces and being out in the middle nowhere. 

On the drive down to Texas from Arizona, I drove past numerous ghost towns.  Legitimate ghost towns.  Not the one you saw on the Brady Bunch or one you’d visit with your family on vacation. Countless shops, homes and gas stations all deserted.  I was equal parts fascinated and sadden by the amount of emptiness and things left behind. It made me wonder, what had happened here? What had caused these once inhabited towns to be deserted?  There were a few towns along the route that stuck out in my mind.  One being Valentine, Texas, population 217. Now if you ask me, the person in charge of that town either needs to politely ask three residents to leave or perhaps grease the palm of someone in the census bureau so that they can be Valentine, population 214!  It would make a whole lot more sense if you asked me, great for t-shirt sales too.   When you get into the close to the town of Marfa, Texas you are met with what you might think is a mirage.  As you are driving along the highway, a solitary storefront about the size of a shipping container catches your eye and then as your passing and trying to look and drive at the same time, you realize it’s a PRADA store, but wait no, why would there be a PRADA store out here. Not wanting to miss this,  I casually slammed on my breaks and turned around to check it out.  It was indeed a very fake store and I don’t just mean fake PRADA. It gives you the appearance from the road that it is a store but in fact it’s nothing more than a container with a few fake shoes in the window. However, in the short time that I had been checking it out, I saw more cars pull in to take pictures than I had passed all day on the highway.  I went and looked it up after and it turns out it was erected in 2005 by the artists Elmgreen and Dragset. The last town you come to before you make the really long trek down to the border where Big Bend National Park is, is Alpine, Texas.  Here I planned to grab something to eat, some ice, a few groceries and gas up.  Well, the gas and groceries worked out just fine, but for some reason, every restaurant in Alpine is closed on Thursdays.  Now I know a few posts back I said I had forgotten what day it was, so my initial reaction was that it was Sunday and this was a religious thing, but upon realizing it was actually Thursday, it had me wondering why.  If you’re wondering too, I’m sad to report I never looked up the reason why and can only make up my own pretend theories.  To get to the Ranch that I was staying at, I had to travel down a dirt road for about 40 minutes. Normally, I think I would have been annoyed to slow down, but I had a lot of fun looking at the different property markers.  Most folks did not put their number or last name out front, but I saw signs of “Dennis and Debbie” and “Hank and Mary”.  Last names, totally unnecessary in Terlingua, Texas.

I truly loved the Ranch that I stayed at in Texas, however,I think my love for TV shows and their representation of things had me a tinge let down.  I was expecting a ranch a la “Hey Dude” a Nickelodeon show from the early 90’s.  You know, horses, corrals, maybe a rooster or two.  What I got was basically just a huge property with some cabins, a café, and my personal favorite, the deer cooler. (FYI, my Grammarly app wanted me to change that to say “beer cooler”  With the exception of the deer cooler it was quite charming and I was glad to be staying there for more than one night.   I got there after the office closed at 5 pm and they very trustingly left the keys and a map out in the mailbox for me to pick up when I got there.  There was a small booklet of information on the desk of my cabin and wanting to familiarize myself with the place, I started to read up on it.  I stopped abruptly at the section labeled “safety”.  Please beware or tarantulas and snakes it read.  Now listen, I love being IN nature, but I have to draw the line and say no thank you to tarantulas.  Right now, is anyone else thinking about the Brady Bunch episode where Greg has the tarantula on his chest…total willies.  I decided I would stick to my cabin’s little porch for a night of sunset and people watching.  I was causally spying on my neighbors who had pulled in a little bit after me. At one point, one of the guys came out in head to toe camouflage and asked the girl who was with them if SHE remembered the bug spray.  So many ways I secretly was hoping she’d respond 1) How’d you remember all that camo, yet no bug spray? 2) With all the camo, maybe the bugs won’t see you? 3) Is Camo really necessary when it will be dark soon?  Unfortunately for my entertainment purposes, none of that was said and it really was time for me to go inside.

The next day, I wanted to get to Big Bend nice and early so I could explore multiple parts of the park before sundown. The first part I was hoping to adventure to was the Santa Elena Canyon.  In photos, the Rio Grande is running beautifully through the canyon. In reality, well at least at this time in the season what was there was a running river of brown water.  And I don’t just mean a little brownish…full blown dense brown that you put your toes in and never see them again. Well until you pull them out again, but hopefully you get my point.  I knew that you had to cross the river to get to this specific trail, but once again I was at this meeting place of loving nature and being afraid of what lies beneath.  I took a look at the crossing spot, realized it wasn’t too wide and figured it wouldn’t be so bad.  I convinced myself that there were no such things as water moccasins, those were simply a type of water shoe and not a snake.  Happy to report, I made it across the river with only mud on my shoes.  No bites of any kind.  I met another woman who was coming back on the trail and she shared her path with me and also mentioned that if I wanted there was a nice spot of high grass that I could sunbathe on.  Sunbathe? In high grass?  Listen, woman, I get that my ever darkening skin would lead you to believe that I spend my days out sunbathing like Magda but this body will not be lying down in high grass that is potentially riddled with all kinds of creepy crawly things.  I realize I’m painting a very wimp like picture of myself…and I’m not even remotely embarrassed.

Next stop for the day was to the Lost Mine Trail is Chisos Basin.  I was informed by the ranger that this was one of the most scenic hikes and to just make sure that I brought lots of water and a snack.  I mean at least that’s what I thought I heard her say.  I might just automatically hear the word snack in my life even when people don’t say it.  I’m thinking this, mostly because when I got to the trailhead there was not 1, not, 2, not 3, but 4 signs warning me about beers and food.  Not to take any chances I took all my food out of the backpack and locked it in the car.  I’m sure I’d be fine for a few hours without food, but I would not be fine becoming bear food.  After slathering on what I thought was a sufficient amount of sunscreen, I started to freak out a little.  My sunscreen actually smells quite delicious and I couldn’t help but wonder if the beers would like the smell of it and in turn like the smell of me.  As I started up the trail, I had almost convinced myself to turn back.  Instead, since I’d be hiking alone, I figured I would share my location with a friend and be confident in the fact that it is more likely that I would get struck by lightning than get attacked by a bear. Obviously, I would have lead with the title “Bear attack” if that had been the case, so clearly we know I’m fine. Even though I was alone, I kept getting this reminder that I wasn’t really alone.  In our family, we have this idea or belief that when you see a butterfly, it is someone you love who has passed away coming back to be by your side for a little while.  While I know that there is no way it could have been the same tiny yellow butterfly that followed me the whole way, I can say that pretty much around every turn and switchback, there she was reminding me to keep going and that I didn’t need to be scared. Or maybe that being a little scared of something is ok because then we get to take those risks and steps to overcome it.  For anyone keeping track, my irrational fears are birds, the dark and yogurt (don’t ask) and my somewhat rational fears are tarantulas and bears.  The Ranger was right, the views were tremendous and it almost felt like you were on top of the world.

You might be wondering if I was ever going to get to the part about the Bad Rabbit Café. Well, wait no longer.  I saw in my cabin welcome booklet that on Friday nights the Café stayed open until 9 and that they sometimes even had live music.  For once in this trip, I can say I did not get my hopes up, but since I was super hungry after hiking all day and was a little sick of the snack life, I thought why not give it a chance.  As long as they weren’t literally serving up “bad rabbit” I would be fine.  I walked to the café and as I got closer, I was trying to suss out if it was truly open so I slowed down my walk and out of nowhere a voice rang out, “You hungry?”  I didn’t know where the owner of that voice was located so I just awkwardly shouted back, “Uhh yup” and moved a little closer to the entrance.  It turned out there was a screened in porch that you had to be really close to know that there were folks inside.  Upon my getting to the door, the voice said, “Daryl you tell her what’s good here.”  Daryl appeared out of nowhere and began asking me the usuals, Where you from? What are you doing out here? You all alone?  I politely answered the first two questions and while I didn’t get a creeper vibe from Daryll I also didn’t think publicizing my aloneness in the middle of nowhere was in my best interest so I left that question unanswered.  Inside a sweet young boy, led me to a seat and handed me a menu to peruse.  I’m not quite sure where Daryl had gone off to but I didn’t have to wait much longer for some company.  The owner of the porch voice walked over to my table and asked, “You’re moving back to Boston.?”  Me..”uhhh yeah.” He’s like, “No $#!+, I’m from North Reading.”  Whaaat???? For all of you not from Massachusetts, North Reading is a town literraly within a half an hour of where I grew up.   Of all the remote places in the middle of nowhere Texas and their chef is from North Reading.  Now what happened next, I couldn’t have made up if I tried, but this gentleman proceeded to sit himself down and tell me his life story, filled with east coast colloquialisms like “Not fah nuthin’ but” and asking me if I liked the fried clams at Kelly’s at the beach.  I don’t imagine he has too many people to talk to on a regular basis out here and I was wanting to be polite, but I was also looking forward to sitting, enjoying my book and eating my burger.  When he came back a third time to ask me about the book I had and also ask if I liked any of the authors he’d been reading, I think I put him off by saying I wasn’t a huge Stephen King fan.  However, I quickly was back in his favor when he told me all about how he just got Netflix and was binging on shows.  Not going to lie, my curiosity was piqued as to what this 63year old guy (who doesn’t look 63 if he does say so him…shhh he totally does, but that’s beside the point).  I was expecting the usual suspects, Breaking Bad, Stranger Things or Black Mirror.  He led with West Wing and Grey’s Anatomy.  Thankfully, he had to get back to cooking, so I could get back to my burger and book, but not before he told me that I should “use my accent more”.  I told him not to worry, my friends in California are anxiously awaiting for when I revert back to my Boston accent and I’m sure it will be soon enough. In case anyone was wondering about the burger. Quite possibly one of the best I’ve had in years!

Just like Texas, this post is big and long, so it might be time to put it to bed and also put me to bed.  It has been so long since my body has seen a real run and hoping that with some directions and an early wake-up, I’ll be able to gently remind it that we used to do this thing all the time.  Road life is fun, but not so conducive to the exercise regime.  More to come on the standoff between me and Hurricane Barry and where his detouring ways took me!  Good night for now.  XOXO, Caitlin

Well, I’ve officially gotten to the point where I truly don’t know what day it is or even what time zone I’m in for that matter.  I no longer have markers like July 4^th in my mind to figure out the days and very often have to look at my calendar to make sure I’m headed in the right direction.  I guess since I’m leading this adventure, I technically can’t go in the wrong direction.  It’s been kind of nice getting lost in my journey, whether it’s a missed turn or not knowing what day of the week it is.

After soaking up all the dry heat hair days I could in Utah, Courtney and I headed down to Arizona to check out both Antelope Canyon and The Grand Canyon.  If we’re being honest, I’m sure my Arizona hair while not quite up to Utah standards will be light years better than what is to come once I hit Texas and the Deep South. 

Our first stop in Arizona was to restock the snacks, but after taking care of that important business, we headed to the famous Horseshoe Bend.  If the name didn’t give it away, it’s a bend on the Colorado River that is uniquely shaped like a horseshoe.  The views are spectacular and it’s only a quick hike in from the road.  After getting a few pics for posterity and the gram, we decided to check in to our motel to enjoy some late afternoon pool time.  I’ve been lucky enough to have checked into a few hotels and or motels in my day, but I’ve never quite experienced a place so set on their check-in time of 3:00.  It was 2:45, we thought we were safe or even could just change into our suits and then check in after.  We were met initially with a locked door and upon ringing the bell very “happily” reminded that check-in was at 3:00 and we needed to come back.  Alrighty then! After our “on time” check-in and a few hours in the shade at the pool, we headed out for dinner and to catch one of Lake Powell’s famous sunsets.  Turns out we were on the wrong side of the sunset, but still a great site.  Also, Courtney still having my back!

The next day, our Adventures in Arizona took us to Antelope Canyon. Antelope Canyon is a slot canyon in the American Southwest that is part of LeChee Chapter of the Navajo Nation.  In the morning, we visited the lower canyon and in the afternoon, the upper.  Being in the canyons, I was reminded how in life, sometimes things with cracks in them can be beautiful and by no means are they broken.  I was chatting with our morning tour guide, William, a young Navajo Native, about the canyon while he was showing us all the best places to take photos.  When William shared that the canyon was created from a crack, I turned and asked him when that was.  I’m not sure what I was thinking and if I expected him to say, “Oh yes, in the year 1904.”  It takes thousands and thousands of years to create the spaces and grooves in the canyons, this wasn’t something we’d have a specific date for…doh!   Over time, the passageway is eroded primarily by flash floods and rainwater during monsoon season.  What mother nature’s wrath leaves behind is nothing short of spectacular.  Sandstone shaped, hearts, mountain peaks, lion heads, sea horses and of course many of Microsoft’s screen savers.  In 2014, the World’s Most expensive photo taken here was sold for 6.5 million dollars.  Our guides mentioned that with the rise in social media posts, the Canyon has become much more popular and everyone is trying to recreate that perfect photo for Instagram, Twitter or Facebook.    Not sure who didn’t want to experience the magic for themselves and just shelled out all that money for that picture, but they are not only out 6.5 million, they are out of once in a lifetime experience.

WARNING: IF YOU ARE AT ALL SQUEEMISH, PLEASE SKIP THE NEXT PARAGRAPH AND GO RIGHT TO THE LAST PARAGRAPH.

If you’re still with me, let me tell you a little bit about my experience hiking the Bright Angel trail in the Grand Canyon.  Prior to our hike, I’d printed out the mile markers and turn around spots.  I thought I’d researched it well enough.  I read all the warnings saying not to try and hike the whole trail in one day, especially in the summer.  Initially thinking while we probably couldn’t’ get to the whole trail anyway given the time we’d be starting, for sure we could do 8 or 9 miles of it.  The trail begins at 6480 ft above sea level and by the time we took a break for some shade and refueling stop around 3 miles, we’d dropped to 4720ft.  Both Courtney and I while maybe a little hungry and hot from the sun, were both feeling great and considering continuing on the trail.   When we first started out, there was this funny picture of a hiker getting sick on the trail and again the warnings of not doing the whole trail in one day.  At our rest stop, we asked Park Ranger Polly (her real name, not me trying to make a cool alliteration out of it) what the deal was with the “silly” sign.  “Oh yeah that’s Vomiting Victor”, she said with a smile.  In my mind, well if she’s joking about it, it must be to scare off anyone who isn’t in decent health to go too far, certainly not for us.  Polly also shared with us, that if we went much farther we might be getting back to the top after sunset.  We decided that after our peanut butter and fluff sandos and apples, we’d head back up. Hiking in the dark was not really on our lists. Although I was prepared with my headlamp in case! While I can’t speak for Courtney, after the first .3 miles back up, I was thanking my lucky stars for our decision.  It felt as if it was taking us forever just to go a percentage of a mile.  We made the decision that no matter how we were feeling, we’d stop to rest at each .5 mile marker.  We were being cautious.  Now what I didn’t know about Courtney is that when she wants something to be over, she charges at it at full speed and so I was just following her lead by ascending at a pace not much slower than our decent. At one of our stops, I could see she was ready to keep going but no part of my body was ready.  I quietly whispered, “I just need another minute rest” and she responded with, “Why don’t I carry the backpack for a while.”  Me being stubborn and thinking whatever you’re feeling right now will pass, get it together girl, I told her, “I’m fine carrying it.” She asked again, I told her no again and then finally she just said, “Give me the pack.”  And as I stood up to take it off, I said to her, I think I’m going to be Vomiting Victor.  She thought I was joking, but I wasn’t and quietly said, “I should probably puke to the side of the trail.” I still think Court thought I was joking at this point.  But then I proceeded to get aggressively sick, losing any ounce of food or water I had taken in that day. So yeah definitely not joking. You know how it’s cool to hear things echo down a canyon…this sound was not one of those sounds, the wretch heard round the world.  After picking up my head, I realized now on top of the already sweaty body, I had the puke sweats.  You know the ones that make your eyes water, your nose run and heat radiate from your body.  I was in no uncertain terms, a disaster.  I did have a slight reprieve from losing my lunch, so we continued on up, pausing so I wouldn’t pass out and also to make some friends along the way.  In speaking to one, she told us that it was taking her 4 hours to climb the same distance we just had climbed in an hour and twenty minutes.  I thought that maybe my math was off being so out of it, but nope we were moving at a clip.  At the top, while we waited in the sun for the shuttle, I started to feel that wave come over me again.  Luckily, we were able to score me a seat on the shuttle and then get back to the visitors center where we stocked up on Gatorade, ginger ale and saltines.  I mean I needed to rally if I was going to catch that Grand Canyon Sunset. And Rally I did.  I made it and even with a smile on my face (pictures to prove). The sun going down in the Canyon proved to be worth the hurt.  And in the end, I made my peace with  Vomiting Victor and dubbed myself Vomiting Victoria in hopes that he can forgive me for laughing at him and we can someday be friends.

As Legs 5 and 6 come to a close, my time having Courtney on my journey also came to a close as well. I would be dropping her off at the airport and she would head back to Boston as I continue on to New Mexico. I was so lucky to have my dear friend by my side as I explored these magical places. Memories, I’m sure we will both treasure for years to come. Next up, New Mexico!