A funny thing happened at our family reunion. And I'm just going to say right now, that it wasn't anybody's fault, and I'm not blaming or accusing anyone of negligence.
The plan was, to go for a hike to a local waterfall. We had discussed two different waterfalls, one of which was familiar to me, but the other was decided upon since it was a shorter hike and we had many small children.
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| (photo credit: "Gathering Clouds" by cousin Liam.) |
As we drove, following the other cars of our family, the clouds began to gather. A few drops began hitting the windshield, but we hoped it would blow over before we got to our destination. As we got closer though, and pulled into the parking lot, it was pouring. Water was streaming down the windshield as I made a mental inventory of what we had in the car --umbrellas? nope, ponchos? nope. We had hats and jackets though to keep the rain off, and even some dry clothes for the baby when we got back. At first we thought maybe we could wait to see if it let up a little, but time was short and it didn't look like it would stop anytime soon. As family members ventured out to decide whether to return or forge ahead, I seriously considered turning back. Some families with babies and small children understandably did, but we had come all this way, the kids had been excited about it --okay, so maybe they weren't so sure once they saw the rain, I'm afraid it took a little prodding-- and now that I think of it, perhaps I had something to prove --to them, to myself, I don't know.
As we gathered our stuff, and put jackets on the kids, I saw the other members of our family proceeding out of the parking lot toward the trailhead and out of sight. I figured they had assumed we would turn back too, having a baby and two small kids all, but I was made of tougher stuff than that. I tried to hurry, but in the usual fashion of trying to go anywhere, it took us a few more minutes to get all ready and on our way.
We followed in the direction we had seen the others go, but the only trailhead we saw was the trailhead for the longer hike to the falls I was familiar with. I supposed they had changed their minds, or perhaps there was a turnoff to the other falls... obviously our communication had been spotty at best, so off we went hoping for the best.
After a little bit of hiking fast and not catching up, I began to doubt myself. Neither of us had seen any other trail, but surely they weren't that far ahead of us, or going very fast. We passed other hikers coming down the mountain, most of which were soaked through and looked incredulously at us for starting such a hike in the pouring rain with three little kids. We finally asked some ladies if they had seen a large group of people hiking up the mountain ahead of us. They replied, "yeah --with all the kids?" and we nodded, knowing that that had to be them, and we asked, "About how far ahead of us are they? " The ladies looked at each other and agreed, "about fifteen minutes?" We thanked them and went on our way, rolling our eyes at the exaggeration. They couldn't possibly be that far ahead of us.
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| Notice the drop of rain dangling from his earlobe, we were soaked. |
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| The baby was hardly amused. |
We kept hiking at a pretty grueling pace. We were determined to catch up. It was a lot to ask of a 3 year old and a 5 year old, but they did pretty well. They had fun dodging the mud puddles (or not dodging them), and seeing the wet butterflies clinging to the flowers, waiting for the sun to come out and dry them. I'm afraid we didn't take much time to enjoy the scenery, because we were on a mission to find our family and enjoy the hike together with them.
Well, after a while I started doubting again. We asked some more passersby about the big group of people with lots of kids ahead, and they said they were about 10 minutes ahead.
So much for exaggerations. Perhaps I had just underestimated how long it took us to get ready, as usual, and they really were that far --but at least we were catching up!
There were a few other young college-age groups that passed us from behind, going up the mountain, so I figured our pace couldn't be all that grueling --after all the kids have short legs, and I'm not in peak condition myself, so I thought
well, maybe if they knew we were back here, they would slow down and we could catch up to them. So I asked one of these groups of young people to "tell the big group of people ahead --the one with all the kids-- that there's a little family coming behind them" in case they wanted to wait up. The college kids agreed and hiked out of sight. Surely, that would help us find them.
About this time, the rain stopped, but the kids started getting whiny, especially the baby. My husband had to take him out of the baby backpack and carry him, which meant we couldn't hold both kids hands and there was a lot more slipping and falling going on. We were covered in mud. I could also feel a blister forming on the inside of my heel, and we were getting pretty tired. We asked the next group of people coming down the trail about how much farther to the falls, and they said we were about half-way.
yeah.
Well, there was no going back now. We had come this far, we were going to go all the way. Besides, now that we had notified our family that we were coming, they would worry if we didn't show up.
The clouds lifted and the surrounding vistas showing us just how high we had hiked gave us an extra boost. Although the trail started heading slightly downhill, we slowed a little making our way down the slippery trail, being careful not to touch the stinging nettle that surrounded us.
We crossed a few rock slides, asked some more people about the big group ahead of us --five minutes this time-- (perhaps they hadn't gotten our message?) and finally we could see the falls in the distance. That was enough to keep us going.
After hiking a bit longer, finding an exotic-looking bug, and expecting to see our family around every turn, we finally, gratefully, heard the sound of the falls. We climbed down some steep stony places on the trail and came to the rocky outcropping that serves as the perfect lookout in front of the falls.
No family.
We heard voices, so we peeked over the cliff's edge to where the trail heads down to the river below at the base of the lower falls. Sure enough, there were lots of people down there
--A tae kwon do team taking pictures below the falls,
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| literally, below the falls. |
The college students who had passed us,
and then there was a group with lots of kids,
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| (sorry for the terrible picture quality, some of these were taken from videos.) |
but to our astonishment and utter disappointment, it
wasn't our family!
We had been following the wrong large group of people with kids this whole time, and
our family was nowhere to be found!
As this sunk in, we realized that we must've been on the wrong trail from the very beginning -although we hadn't seen any other trails anywhere.
We were so confused, and felt rather sheepish about the whole thing (not to mention the mysterious message we had sent ahead to complete strangers). After explaining and re-explaining things to the kids, we all finally accepted the fact that we were on our own, and decided to make the most of it.
The falls were exquisite. They were also a lot bigger than I had remembered.
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| My poor hat went all soggy and limp in the rain. |
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The other pictures don't really show how big the falls are, but to put it into perspective,
the orange, white, and blue dots back there are the college students from the previous picture. |
The kids were duly impressed (well, maybe not the baby), and we considered lingering and exploring some more, but we were dirty, wet, and hungry and had to get back to cook dinner for everyone that evening.
The hike down was dryer, and we took off our jackets as the sun came out --making the forest steamy and aromatic. We decided that although we were tired and wanted to get back, we could take our time and enjoy the way down since we weren't trying to catch up to anyone. The butterflies began dancing about and we got out some snacks and water I had thought to bring at the last moment. It was a beautiful day after all, and we were glad we came, despite the difficulty and the disappointment of not being with our extended family.
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| (photo credit: "Sundance Fireweed", by my five year old) |
The baby grew sleepy and still refused to go back in the backpack, so in a stroke of ingenuity (if I do say so myself), I wrapped my jacket around me and the baby, having my husband tie the sleeves behind me, fashioning a kind of sling.
I was able to carry the baby like that down the rest of the mountain comfortably and he soon fell asleep on my chest. It was the sweetest thing ever.
The kids, who were troopers but nonetheless worn out, took turns being carried by their dad down the rest of the mountain. The hike back actually seemed to go faster than the hike to the falls -probably because I enjoyed it a bit more, and I wasn't trying so hard to catch up, expecting our destination around every corner, only to be disappointed each time.
It was still tiring though, and by the time we reached the parking lot we were ready to be done.
As we reached the car, I wondered what the others had thought when they saw that our car was still there, for surely they had figured we had turned back and gone home. In the parking lot, there was a forest ranger and we asked her about the trails and waterfalls. Sure enough, right at the very beginning of the trailhead, we had missed the gravelly turnoff to the other falls.
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| In case you were wondering, this is where the rest of the family ended up. Not all are pictured. |
In the end, we had gone a mile further than the others, but according to the ranger, we had been rewarded with a more scenic hike and falls.
All in all, for our little family unit, it turned out to be the most unifying part of the reunion. We pushed hard through difficult circumstances, achieving an amazing goal and surprising ourselves by what we were capable of, and in the process made memories of our glorious adventure to the "wrong falls."
There could be a number of analogies made in conjunction with this story. Perhaps about how we often spend all our time trying to catch up to others, when all along we are each on our own paths with our own unique destinations. Or how we often forget to enjoy the journey when we're too impatient or preoccupied with the end goal. Or maybe even something about how the best things in life require the greatest sacrifices, etc. etc. etc....
I don't know.
They're all good analogies, and ones that I could easily apply to my own life.
Our journey is definitely our own, and I find that I am only unhappy when I compare my life to others and begin to think that I want what they have. I mean, sure it would be nice to settle down and have a house, but then I might miss out on all these other great experiences and wonderful people that I wouldn't meet otherwise. I hope that my kids are stronger and closer to each other because of it. The amount of toys they have or the size of their room won't matter, but they'll have great memories of all the different places we've lived and fun things we've done on this glorious adventure that is our life.
It's
our story: moving from place to place, scrimping and saving to get by, working hard through a Master's and PhD, not waiting to have a family, hoping and praying that the end reward will be worth the sacrifice, and (for the most part) enjoying every minute of it.
