I always say that I grew up in the boonies, but compared to where one set of my grandparents lived, I lived in the big city. My dads parents lived in McDowell, Virginia. His Pap, that's what he called him, had a large piece of land with a fairly large one room cabin located at the very top that he had built. I say the top, because I can't remember how much land he owned, but let's put it this way, we called it Grant Mountain. It was mostly used by the men during the hunting season, but as a kid, my family spent many a night there. It was my kind of camping, except for having to use the bathroom in the woods.
It really is beautiful though. The only way that you can get to the cabin is to walk or use a 4X4 pickup. We usually took the later option, but one Sunday afternoon after church, my dad told my sister and I that we were going on an adventure. Yep, you guessed it, walk to the top of Grant Mountain. Well, we were kids and it didn't seem like it was that big of a deal. I mean, it didn't seem that far when we were riding in the pickup. How bad could it be? My mom even came along, packing a few snacks and canned sodas to replenish ourselves once we reached the top.
So we started off on our Sunday afternoon adventure. It wasn't too bad at first but it got worse the further we went. We were only about 20 minutes into our grand adventure when my sister and I started asking, "Are we there yet?" And about every 50 yards or so, we asked again, just in case he hadn't heard us the first time, "are we there yet?" "Are we there yet?" Oh, and did I mention that he didn't take us on the 'road' that the pickups usually used? Nope, he took us straight up that mountain through the woods. My dad had failed to mention that little detail when he had asked us to go. We had to climb over brush and rocks and climb mini cliffs as we went along. And the entire time, my sister and I kept asking "are we there yet?"
Well, long story short, but there is more, we finally got to the top. We were ready to enjoy our snacks and sodas, but that was just wishful thinking. During our grand adventure, somehow the bag that my mom had been carrying the snacks and sodas in had gotten snagged on something and had let most of our precious refreshments spill out somewhere down that dreaded mountain. Needless to say, none of us were happy. Including my dad. It was then that our are we there yets' became, "can we go home now?" I think that may have been the last time my dad ever took us on a grand adventure.
But do you want to hear something funny? I told you there was more. Many years later. one day when my dad was hunting, he took that same route up the mountain, and guess what he found? Yep. Our sodas! What are the chances of that happening with those miles of acres on granddads mountain. My dad never did say, but I'd venture to guess that he smiled thinking back to that Sunday afternoon and could probably hear my sister and I following behind him asking. . ."Dad, are we there yet?"
I certainly hope that Sally and Bella have better luck with their adventure than we did ours.
Until tomorrow. . . .Happy HUNTING!