The fourth weekend of October, we went camping with some friends to the Smoky Mountains. The week before was tumultuous. Our friends had a death in the family, Ken was out of town (actually, out of the country), Nick had just dislocated his wrist the week before, there were many other small setbacks that made us think--are we crazy to consider still going???
I'm glad we did. The weather was beautiful (the forecast predicted a wash-out) except for the last day.
We made a big mistake the first day. We got into the campsite somewhere around 1 in the morning Saturday morning (after a later than intended start Friday afternoon, plus a delay for a popped tire for our friends). By the time we'd all set up and finally climbed into bed it was sometime after 3am. Of course, everyone still woke up at 7 am with the sun just like normal.
So, Saturday afternoon, we decided to go for a hike. A 4.2 mile hike. A 4.2 mile hike with tired kids and a very rocky, rooty trail. (Honestly, the trail was awful it was so rocky and rooty). About 3/4 of a mile in, Carrie was in full on meltdown mode yet wouldn't ride in the backpack. Then Nick fell, tripping over a root. And hurt his GOOD wrist. I think he really just freaked himself out. He refused to go any further.
So after trudging on for another 1/4 mi, Ken decided to turn back and take those two the the car while the rest of us carried on.
After Mass on Sunday, we did a motor trail and then picked a hiking trail off of that. Perfect for little people who needed a quick nap!
It was the perfect little diversion for the three of us. A cabin and outbuildings to explore. Access the the creek to make dams in and throw rocks.