story part 6.28

Twenty-five years ago (I was 18) I found out I was pregnant.  I had just completed a year of college and I was living back at home with my parents (after a short-term move that had ended with my two roommates in the hospital).

I was so sick.  So, I went to the health clinic to find out what was wrong.  I remember a large, round man walking in the room, wiping the sweat off his brow, holding a clipboard.  I sat there alone on the chair, next to the door, waiting for my diagnosis.  He looked at his paper and without looking at me, said, “it appears you’re pregnant.  Are you going to keep it?”  I was very confused at this information and this question.  The room suddenly seemed so smalI. I was speechless.  He stood there impatiently looking at his paper and then, realizing I wasn’t answering, looked at me and said, “well? Do you plan to keep it or not?”
I stammered, “yes.  Yes, I plan to.”  He scribbled something on his paper, tore it off, handed it to me, murmured something and walked out, letting the door slam behind him.

I sat there.  Sick.  Confused.  Excited.  Torn.  Shocked.

I was pregnant.

my journal 6/28/95

Then I did what I usually do. I kept silent. I didn’t tell anyone for a long time.  Even when I would begin to share, it would be slow and carefully guarded, for my own protection.  There would be no celebratory announcement. I was a young, unmarried college student. This was 1995.  There was shame and failure preceded with guilt, and the knowing... that my life was about to jump onto a different track. Who could see the path it would take? It probably looked like a derail to most. Even I knew it would be hard. But pregnancy takes time. God is so sweet to give nine long months to grow us. I grew. Everyone grew.
And what seemed like some of the hardest, most confusing times in my life, taught me more about Perseverance and Commitment and Love and Grace- than I ever knew I’d need to know.  What may have seemed like a tragic turn of events to many for my life, was actually a beautiful turn to whom we would each become, eventually.
It would never be easy...God showed me that from the beginning. I went on to make a million mistakes.  But I never gave up hope. Somehow, I held on, or was held.


This is my story.

Morning Run in July

Last Friday I had the best run I've ever had in my life.  Not my fastest time.  But my absolute most favorite run ever.  I've been running for about 3 years consistently now.  But over the past year I've been better about making the time to run while traveling.  We camped in OH, MI, IL, and MO and I ran every other day.  But the delight of the show happened unsuspectingly  early Friday morning, when I thought I was just going to run down a country road and ended up on a greenway that led from the campground to the park.  It was an absolute dream.  I got back and could not contain the experience, so I wrote it down:

The fresh scent of damp morning woods
Birds calling -- wild and sweet
like the flowers
pushing up from ground to sky

stretching strong and astute 

Bursting with green stems and colored

with pride towards their Creator

The sunlight, breaking through clouds
 as the rabbits munch,
the deer graze
The meadow beats and rests, laid out

between gently rolling hills

I run right into it, round the corner, inhaling

the cool summer air - so clean, so new.

And I am met with all of them,

together at once:

SUN, SKY, MEADOW, MOUNTAIN,

FOG, WILD FLOWERS, TALL GRASSES, TREES,

and GLORY!

I cannot hold back.  My arms burst 

open wide, in praise!

All this for me?  All five miles?

I can see, hear, feel, smell, breathe, and 

believe it’s all happening - then for a

moment I inhale and exhale and become

one with it.

That close.

I am more than just running through it. 

I have become a part of the canvas,

the artwork that beats and rests and

stretches and sings.

I bring it into me and release it.

I am held within it and freed by it.

I am OF the beauty, 

crying out, “God, You have made me for this!

You have made this for me!

And ALL of Your works are wonderful!

I know this even more fully now.”

Hiking Words

"I have never heard silence so loud." -Jenna Jimenez

3/24/18 - written at the meadow clearing atop the Syllamore Trail in Arkansas

The work of the pack up the rocky path
The heave of uphill
The wind, the air!
The cool breeze at the tops of mountains.
The sunshine.
Miles and miles the mountains flow on 
and the trees raise praise to You.
The rocks DO cry out in silence to You.  
The wind DOES go where You send it.
And I am here.
ON this mountain.
Trying to take it all in.
But I cannot
It's too wide, too deep
and goes on forever
So I just stand in it
Here.

Four Days + Three Nights: Two Gals on a Backpacking Trip

Beginning NSCT  (Tiff left, Jenna right)

Planning a backpacking trip on trails you've never even walked on is quite exciting- and a little bit terrifying.  The trails I chose were practically in the backyard of where I spent my reformative years (middle school through high school) in North Central Arkansas.  My parents still live there, so fortunately it was close enough for Dad to be our "shuttle."  I don't know if these trails existed when I lived there twenty-five years ago, because I didn't get into trail running, hiking, and backpacking until a year ago.  But I do know that two races were held on these trails in the month prior, so I felt confident they existed recently.
The North Sylamore Creek Trail (NSCT) has lots of great information online.  It passes through three campgrounds.  We found the Trail Head in Allison, AR without much trouble, and as we'd been warned online - we had to cross the fairly wide creek right off.  We waved bye to Dad, and trekked on, enthusiastically.
My friend Tiffany had agreed to come with me.  She usually jumps at my plans like this; she likes it as much as I do.  She is 36 and I am 41.  We look years younger, we know...
We both live in Tennessee.  She was born and raised in Alabama
and I was born in Arkansas, raised in Kansas City, KS and then back in AR.  We both love the natural places.

Tiffany crossing stream

We set out for Gunner Pool, a ten mile hike for day one.  It was not hard, but our bodies had to adjust.  We arrived early enough to set up camp in daylight, pay our fees in the envelop box, and find water.  Except the pumps were all dry.  There were lots of people camping... but no filtered water for campers like the website had indicated. Bummer.  I asked the guy walking his dog and he sadly said no, and he'd seen us hike in and felt bad, so come on over after we set up and he'd give us water from his RV to save us from filtering one night.  We had a great conversation with him, his wife, and dog, and enjoyed it quite well!  They were adventure travelers from Wisconsin and were currently keeping South of the cold, and moving around as they liked, in the luxury of their RV.  Their eyes glistened with envy and excitement for us, and respect too.  Making friends, even ones you'll never meet again, is cool.  They highly recommended The Boundary Waters Canoe Trails and some famous Florida trail (that I forget the name of) to us.  Sounded amazing!

Gunner Pool was peaceful, with the (stream) water literally pooling up and flowing over right under our campsite.  I was glad to get back on the trail the next morning though.  That trail changed so often that it never got boring!  We were headed to Barkshed, then on toward Cripple Turkey Trail Head, the end of the NSCT and our connector to the Ozark Highlands Trail (OHT).  We decided to go about 10-12 miles.  Then, we revised the plan to state that at 5:30 we would begin to look for a good spot to camp off the trail.  We had to find camp by 6:30 to set up before it got dark at 7:30.  We thought this was all a good plan.  We had never camped along a trail before in a non-designated or non pre-determined location.  But we figured we could handle it.

Tiffany trekking

Well...I'm not going to say that it was easy.  We stopped at an okay location by the creek and filled up our water container to carry (with the plan to filter it at camp or boil what we needed to cook with), since it was nearly 6pm.  The creek was kind of buggy, so we went looking for a better spot.  Looking back, that may not have been the wisest decision.  We had a hard time finding level ground the further we ascended and went up around the mountain.  Finally, (and long story short) we hiked up and off the trail to the edge of a meadow and camped there.  It was a windy, but a warmer night.  We had to hang our food bag for the first time "for real."  That was hilarious.  We had to filter water and clear out a good spot for the tent that was somewhat level and would hopefully not get punctured by whatever had been harvested there.
We had both been a little frustrated, but a bowl of warm soup, filtered water, and the prospect of sleep put us in better moods.  The fun part about backpacking is when you get to your "camp stop" you don't really get to rest.  There is a LOT of work involved in just unpacking, changing, eating, and setting up camp.  Finally, rest comes.  Tiffany said she felt good about all we'd done and if we decided to leave the trail the next day, she felt satisfied that we'd accomplished what we'd set out to do.

Prairie Camp Night #2

The next morning I awoke as the sun was rising.  I lay there, thinking.  I stirred and Tiff woke too.  The first thing I said was, "I want to stay on the trail."  She was surprised, but said, "okay."
We got up and broke camp and took very literally the Leave No Trace philosophy.  We got back on the trail. I was motivated and felt strong.   About an hour down the trail we met an older guy who was just as surprised to see us as we were to see him!  He asked where we'd started and told us where he was headed.  We wished each other well, and he said we were nearly there now.  I think I took him too literally.
The trail ran along the mountainsides.  It went in and out.  Because it was still early spring, we could usually see the trail across on the other side of the next mountain. It was SO far away always!  The chasm between mountains was WIDE, the gap deep, and the hike into their creases and out back and over each mountain seemed so far- every time.  It seemed to take extra long to get to Cripple Turkey!

Completely Thru-Hiked the NSCT

But we finally arrived!  We had thru-hiked the NSCT!  23.7 miles!  Our first true through hike and two nights of camping!  We cheered for ourselves and had lunch!
We had no idea where the next water source would be, but we found it a half mile down the OHT.  So, we stopped to filter water, because we needed it to drink that day.  Rookie mistake.  We should've pressed on to eat lunch at our next water source and filtered there, even not knowing where it could be.
Filtering water at the creek was very enjoyable.  We splashed our faces with the cool, clear water.  A horse and his rider came out of nowhere to enjoy a drink as well!  That was interesting!

Me filtering water

The OHT was also a horse trail for part of the way and it was very muddy.  We had to navigate carefully for awhile.  It was a beautiful path, but strange too.  There were many times that roads also merged with with the trail.  We had a map (laminated and attached to my pack) but it was useless.  There is not much information about this section of the OHT on the internet.  But it was definitely obvious that we were on a completely different trail than the last one - mostly because we were going UP, UP, UP and OVER mountains instead of walking around them.  It was hard work!  We had no cell signal out there hardly ever.  When we climbed the tallest mountain yet, we stopped to check and signal!  Finally, we were able to let our families know that we were alive and FINE.  They had been wondering...

Most of the OHT had been intentionally burnt on both sides of the trail.  I knew that forest fires were important for the health of the forest because I'd been reading Johnny Molloy's books.  But it still didn't look lovely after miles and miles of it.  We were glad to spot any greenery!  The trail was a rocky strip, single track with a slight angle to the right always.  It was grueling at times. Those trekking poles were worth every cent!

Bluff side Camp #3

Again, we decided to start looking for camp about 5:30.  We didn't find any worthwhile water sources, which was discouraging.
We finally found the "best of a difficult situation" campsite on the side of a burnt bluff.  The ash was thick and lumpy, making the entire area wobbly to navigate- even a few steps.  With difficulty, we found large rocks to open our packs on, set up the tent, and got the cook stove started.  We would inevitably end up covered in black soot.   The wind was very strong and we knew it was going to be cooler that night.  But the sky was finally clear!  We were going to see the stars!  Our camp was a strange place, but we were making the best of it, and it was quite the adventure!

Cooking Station

We hung our food bag, even though there seemed to be no obvious threat on this burnt ashen mountainside.  As we slept, our tent apparently slid.  The tent stakes hadn't really had secure options in the ash.  We tried to shimmy it back up.  I  imagined us rolling off the bluff, in the tent, down the deep mountainside unable to stop.  It was hard to fall back asleep with that thought.  But eventually I did.  We got up and ate our regular oatmeal and broke camp much more quickly this time.  We'd improved a little!  We started out, with the plan to go about six miles until the OHT crossed the Highway.  If we found a water source, we could go on the next six miles then call Dad for a ride back.
If we didn't find water, we weren't sure we could risk the commitment to stay on for those six extra miles.  The views on this side of the trail were like none we'd seen so far.  We could see for miles and miles when we reached mountaintops!  The mountains were blue and stretched out forever.  We had lunch atop a mountain.  It took a mile or two to descend it.  We tried to go slow.  It seemed the road was closer than we wanted it to be.  Since we hadn't seen water, we knew our trip was coming to an end.  The trail was green again with beautiful rocks and switchbacks.  We could still see for miles as we descended.  Eventually, we reached the bottom of the mountain and the  road crossing.  Time to call Dad.


We walked up the road to meet him after we called him.  Even that was a first!  We'd never carried our packs while walking along a highway! I felt like the real deal.  We made a video while we waited. Dad arrived and we had a short ride back, where we spread out all of our gear to air out, ate the BEST TACOS AND FRIES OF OUR LIVES (thanks Mom!), packed back up and prepared to drive back to TN the next morning.

38.8 miles of backpacking Completed!

It was a big accomplishment for us two gals who had just read about these things in books, and had very little prior experience (a few previous easy one-nighters).  But we learned SO MUCH by just being out there.  Concepts that you can't understand when you Pin them.  Knowledge you may not find on blog posts, and videos that could never truly capture the reality of the terrain, or situations.  We learned what we probably already knew:  that we would never really know or understand the challenge or the reward until we GOT OUT THERE and DID IT!

To Drown

My friends don't bring me wine
They know.
I can't.
I'd drink myself
to Drown
And do it again.
I'd never lost a child before 
I've never known a hurt so deep
No one stops by the liquor store
on their way-
or gives me pills.
I would sabatoge
myself.
Escape
and stop eating
to keep drinking
to stop feeling

Yet I'd fill with regret
and shame
wracked with guilt 
Compounding my grief
and drink more to make it go away
This well 
does not end 
at any rock bottom
but death.
I cannot entertain 
a single thought on it
or I will begin
to descend
upon my own
self-destruction.

Out-pour Poem Day One

The grief is so thick.
I can barely see through it.
I can hardly move in it.
It catches my breath.
And chokes me.
It threatens to engulf me.
In waves so powerful,
I want to let it.
That feels dangerous.
My heart constricts,
and bends and bleeds
Not understanding
nonetheless believing
what I don’t even want
to believe.

God, why would you?
God, how could you?
You know that I will praise you through everything -
And still you allow this suffering.

Place Your hands on me
Guide me through this grief
I cannot see past today
Show me what
You know I don’t know-
when I can know.

I trust You. I trust You. I say it and mean it. I trust You.

I understand nothing,
but by faith,
and prayers,
by Your Hands
I am held.
So I understand something,
and I understand nothing
in a grief this thick.

Out-pour Poem Day Two

The new reality:

44 days
That's how long I've spent adjusting to my new reality: pregnant.
Another child.
Really, God?  Wow.  At the age of 41, nonetheless.
I was confused for sure, but soon this sweet new secret of Life, Joy, and Love began to glow within me.
We waited until the 8 week ultrasound (to see the heart beat) before we told family.
Of course, sweet Brielle was ecstatic- and in shock.
She began making plans.  And an announcement sign.
We all began to imagine our new reality, talked about it, dreaming.
Life with a baby!  Now? Our plans continued as normal, but with an anticipation, expectation.

My midwife scheduled an ultrasound for eleven weeks.  She never said "high risk" but rather, "Advanced Maternal Age." I scoffed.  I maybe was a little coy.  I'm healthier now than I've ever been in my entire life.  I've always been fertile and had three healthy pregnancies. No wonder I was pregnant again.
I know I'd thought of it a few times since learning of the pregnancy...
But I was not thinking about it at all when the ultrasound began.
I had brought Brielle!  She was giddy.
Tiffany was there with us too.  We were going to see the baby!
Except we didn't.
The nightmare slowly unfolded in a surreal sort of why.
I can't even explain what I was thinking or feeling.  I hugged Brielle.  I felt SO bad.
I did not see this coming.  No heartbeat.
We went over to the Midwives' Clinic, where they took us to private room.
I called Will, crying.
He couldn't understand what I was saying through my sobs.
He had not seen this coming.
The midwife and intern came in to speak with me.  They believed the baby had stopped growing somewhere around nine weeks gestation.
They asked if they could pray for me, for us.
Yes.  Yes, absolutely.
I bawled.
And I didn't stop crying for three days.
Or maybe four.  Today is day four.  I've cried a little less today.  Allowing myself time to think and process life now.
I won't be delivering a baby in October.
I won't be pregnant through summer.
So...what then? I can give blood.  I can drink coffee.  I can train for and run that Marathon I'd signed up for (last year) in August.  I can backpack in the Fall.
All meaningless.
All completely meaningless.
I wanted the baby.  I wanted my child.  I wanted to feel her kick in my womb.  I wanted to birth her into my arms, and nurse her in the silence of the night.  I wanted to cloth diaper her bum and wrap her to me for Brielle's soccer games. I wanted to listen to Brielle SING to her. I wanted to smell her fresh baby scent.  I wanted to run with her in one of those jogging stroller contraptions, hike mountains with her on my back - and show her everything I love - and all I've learned in my life.  

Will, Brielle (even Josh & Tyler, though they don't live at home any longer), we all wanted her.

4 days.
That's how long I've had to adjust to my new reality.

Out-pour Poem#2 Day Three

today i am stripped of all pride, all dignity
i must to cling to Your promises and Your words
that speak the truth about me
i am exposed and today i do not care
what does it matter?
i would have given it all up, like You asked me to
i was willing and You knew it!
I was, and still am, willing to do whatever You ask of me.
That damn nacre.
i can grow hard, even in loving you
or i can heal
while You protect me
and grieve with me.
today i shed all pretenses of what i thought i knew
when I was shaken and suffering 
You reached in and rescued me
You saved my life.  To bring me here.  To give me joy.  
To overflow my cup of life abundantly.
Even knowing my heart would sacrifice to this outcome-
and You knew the pain it would bring me
how it would come close to consume me
and how I would question and wrestle the nonsense of it all
Still- You also knew I would know better
than to be tempted to submit to anything other than You.
By now, I know.
Nothing else will satisfy.  No drink.  No food.  No drug.
Not one person can hold me.  
You always do.
I am leaning in.  I am listening.  I am waiting.
I am searching and groping in the dark.
I am desperate.  I care so much less about everything unimportant.
I care so much less about what they'll say or think
If they'll balk or gasp, or whisper, or feel so sorry for me
Or if they'll even care.  
i am stripped of all pride, of all dignity
what You God - what you alone SAY- stands 
in the chasm of this pain
and I believe You will not waste this.

Out-pour Poem Day Three

Today is raw.  It is fresh like an open wound that hasn't even been assessed yet.  Bone and marrow are exposed.  I cannot see it, but I know it is there.  I am wretched with a grief I've never known and do not understand.  I know that I am not alone.  Others have felt this before and someone may feel this one day.  
When in the deep, deep parts of this kind of grief it is like moving blindly, uncertainly, painfully.  Feeling around, grasping for breaths, choked between torrents of tears.

Ask Why.
Reverberating silence will follow.
There are no answers here.  

Out-pour Poem Day Four

Today all I can do is crawl up into Your lap and rest
I am tired, so tired
Your arms are wide, strong,
but they wrap me gently and securely

You are clean and pure
Everything I am not
But with You I feel new
like fresh mountain air
I feel known
And seen
And heard
even though I have no words today

I am sad, so sad
Your hand moves over my hair
In a sweet caress
And I can rest here
Indefinitely

When I learned to grieve

When we began preparing to move last October, and all of the sorting and packing got real - I found myself grieving.  I grieved off and on for about a week.
I recalled all of the memories we'd made in that home.  All of the seasons of life.  Little boys and legos, Christmases, birthdays, game nights, tears and bandages, bike rides, play fights, bringing Brielle home, neighbors, street ball, and even the growing pains.  We'd moved in when they were five and two and had lived there over sixteen years.
It wasn't the home or neighborhood I grieved (though I did love them both).  
I knew they were just places.
It was the season of life I grieved.  It was over.  We'd raised our boys.  They'd both moved out in the past year.  We'd had eighteen full years with each of them.  And it had come to a close.
I knew all of the things: 
 - they were supposed to launch
 - there's a new season on the horizon
 - at least we still have Brielle at home
Let me say this - I knew I needed to grieve.  I don't know how I knew, but I did.  It was important in the process of my moving on.  I did not get stuck there.  But I did allow myself to FEEL it.
And for someone who feels deeply (and was once very skilled at escaping anything that hinted of unpleasant) this was a scary place to be.
So, I asked God to help me process and walk through it - believing there was another side that brought me out, through faith, to a new viewpoint.  And He did.  He said, "Mourn Beloved.  You loved them deeply, dearly, and sacrificed for their lives.  You will move on to the other side and love them still."
And He showed me that He loved them so much more than I did.  He gently taught me to trust them into His care in a newer and deeper way.
I felt alone in my thoughts and feelings, so I didn't share them much.  But God held me right through it all.  I'm so glad I learned this about grieving then. 

Recently, my bible app study explained it like this: 

Arkansas Adventure

It is hot in July in Arkansas -and I absolutely love it.  There are rivers and lakes and mountains and streams that flow to and from them.  One of those rivers remains in the condition it was created.  In 1972 the Buffalo River was designated the Nation’s first ever National River, keeping it protected from any developments.  Apparently, some people had wanted to dam the river (which did happen to nearby rivers) and others did not support the idea.  So they fought and won.  Ever since then many people have been able to enjoy this protected river - as a result of their efforts.

Tiffany and I began at Buffalo Point Wilderness Campground.  When we arrived, we chose a seemingly level campsite, but with a great view, looking out to the bluffs on the other side over the Buffalo River.  We quick-pitched the tent then repelled (backwards) twenty feet down the side of the sandy river bank while holding on (with everything I had) to an exposed tree root.  I thought I was going to flop and roll, but somehow managed. Already an adventure.
The water was so cool, calm, and clear.  Sweet Buffalo River.  I dove my whole self right into her, then floated on my back looking up at the towering bluffs and ridges.  The clear blue sky.  The puffy white clouds.  The soft current.  So perfectly perfect.
We ascended further down the embankment on a less steep slope, thank goodness.
We got our water hydration packs on and set out to hike the Campground Trail, which we had just learned was there (thanks to the map on a wooden board).  It led (apparently) to the Overlook Trail, which sounded promising.  I looooved this trail.  We had a stick to clear out spiderwebs because there were just tons of

them, but the way the trail went from stone steps- to mulch- to grass- then to flat rock - was just amazing and alive.  It felt of Arkansas.


The “overlook“ was a rock balcony overlooking the river. It was breathtaking.
After pausing to enjoy it, we continued on up the trail to where it crossed the road and the Indian Rockhouse Trailhead began.  We knew we didn’t have time to hike that whole trail before the sun set, so we just hiked to the waterfall (on the map) and back down to the Campground Trail.  We showered, made a fire, ate soup, and fell asleep in the tent to the sound of the very loud insects.
The next morning we got up and packed up camp and took our sweet time.  Which was lovely...but we knew this could cost us later in the day, due to our schedule.  We laid out all of our gear, clothes, and food in the parking lot and carefully determined which items were worthy of carrying in our packs through the long trail.  Then we drove back up the mountain and parked at the Indian Rockhouse Trailhead, ready to complete it’s full 3.5 miles this time.  The Indian Rockhouse was just about the coolest natural structure I’ve ever seen.   No one was there at this time and we seemed very small in its capacity.  Ancient people had gathered there, held ceremonies, and just respected it well - which was something so incredible- and I wanted to absorb it.  I just wanted to be still and feel the memories the Rock House held.

Indian Rockhouse

We headed back out to finish the loop and saw a natural bathtub right off the trail.  Tiffany almost convinced me we should make the time to sit in it, but we sufficed for splashing our faces in the fresh stream that crossed the trail a ways up, where the deer kept eyes on us.  After we got off that trail, we drove to the Buffalo Point Ranger Station.  We let them know where we were going, for how long, and that our car would be at Dillard’s Ferry (aka Hwy 14 Bridge, aka 14, aka The Bridge) for two days.  We gave emergency contact info.  It was already afternoon and the lady was surprised that we were about to set out just now to hike the 6.1 trail (plus the mile that leads down the road to Spring Creek Primitive Campground after the trail ends).  She said the trail should be mostly empty, as most people don’t hike it this time of year, due to heat, chiggers, and other nuisance insects.  We stopped by Wild Bill’s Outfitters and paid our fees for bug spray with  deet, much to our dismay.



I think we actually got on the BRT (Buffalo River Trail) around 2:30pm.  Which was fine.  Except the trail looked like a road for a little while, and then broke off into the woods (I did see that, but didn’t realize it was the trail), and so we continued on the road about .5 miles out of the way, and when we realized this, had to turn around and retrace our steps.  We did this mostly in silence.  Our packs were heavy, the sun hot, and we had wasted precious time hiking an extra mile.

We felt relief about half a mile into the woods.  The trail was beautiful and we began to feel its natural pull as it moved us along and eventually we began to ascend it’s mountain.  Up, up, up.  For two miles we went up!  At times we could look over to our right side and see down the side of the mountain as it dropped a good fifty feet in places.  Our heavy packs were strapped to us tight.  One slip/fall could result in some very serious complications.
Near the end of the ascent, and around mile two (we think), we began to see clearings off to our right, views that flew out beyond the ridges and river canyon.  Mountains beyond the mountains.  We kept pausing every forty feet or so, it was so spectacular, these small sightings through the lush summer foliage.  When we reached a clearing with a nice flat rock jutting out the side of the mountain, we dropped our packs and ate our snack/dinner.  It was exhilarating sitting up that high.  950 feet we estimated.  We could see kayaks and canoes floating lazily by, so deep below us.  Had they just put in?  This late in the day?  We could hear them talking, and they had no idea.

After trying (again) to capture the landscape though a small lens, but knowing our eyes could really only receive this beauty directly, we set back off.  Up a little further was a larger clearing with a fire-pit in the direct sun.  It must be the Lookout marked on the map.  We paused briefly, but kept going.  Into and around the mountain this time.  The terrain changed once again.  The sun was behind the mountain and we were in the shade.  Then the rocks rose up large and the trail became marked with stone steps placed by people, markers that let us know we were still on it.  We marched into the low elbow creases of the mountain, then back out, up and around, and then again through the next one. 

Then the forest, and the trail itself, became lush with green.  Two miles of lush, thick grass.  Chiggers.  I knew they’d be relentless, no matter how much deet we applied.  Then the trail turned weird around mile four.  It was like a tractor had come in to clear it out and left all of the debris lying in its wake, which really looked like a Trail Tornado.  We came to a large tree lying directly across the trail, and we couldn’t see around it at all.  Tiffany was certain that the trail was on the other side of it, but we had no way of knowing unless we climbed up and around it, which was no easy task, and certainly woke up ALL of the chiggers in the deep woods.  Sure enough, when we’d climbed to other side there was the Trail Tornado, still ripped and splintered and leading us onward.  We climbed up, up, and up. The trail was wide, but surprisingly still held many spider webs.  I should mention that we were never on any portion of the trail without the lead person donning a “spidey stick” (a long stick with many branches protruding at the end to catch and wrap up the spider’s web).  They definitely helped, but their webs still managed to reach us, sometimes full ones by surprise, other times they’d just float back, or the stick would fill up and we’d have to replace it with a new stick.  This was certainly a sport in itself.

By this time, we have no more “life” conversations left to cover between the two of us.  We’ve discussed and caught up with each other's lives and now we just share this adventure, speaking only of the trek, the location of the sun, how we’re doing on water, food, and energy.  We’re holding up well. I can feel the blisters forming on my feet, but I don’t mention it. The sun always looks high in the sky when we climb a ridge and get sight of it.  Near mile five, Tiffany is leading and turns around to inquire, “if we get to this campground (Spring Creek) would there be a good chance we can get into the water?”  I assure her there is an excellent chance.  We’ve been high above the Buffalo River this entire trail, but the campground is a river access, so yes.  She confidently proclaims that she thinks we can reach it before nightfall.  We know we’ve got a mile to get to the road and then another mile down to the river.  So we press on.  We are dirty and grimy and sweaty and reaching water motivates our steps.
We come out onto the road as dusk begins on the white gravel and Tiffany cheers We Made It! I’m walking quickly -we still have another mile to get down this road before it gets dark and I really want to assess the campground in some kind of daylight.  I’m toting a lot less water.  I’ve drank almost 3L.  When we reach Spring Creek we quickly explore.  There are two vehicles in the parking lot, one bathroom, no running water, and a weird clearing up on the right beyond the parking lot.  We head left to the river.  There is a campsite very close to the river with great big trees to hang our hammocks from.  The floor is packed with moist river sand in every direction and big, tall trees that go on forever down the west bank.  We drop our packs on the picnic table and hang our hammocks.  The fireflies are curious of us and come close to investigate these strangers to their river land.  Their lights are a lucid blueish-green as they glow along the river’s edge in a magical dance where dusk meets night.
Tiffany grabs her environmentally-friendly soap and flies to the river.  She must have.  Because one moment I was talking to her about it and the next I hear her splashing and exclaiming in the river!  I laugh and head down our little embankment to clean up too.  We are the only ones here.  This part of the river has a steady current and I can’t fully get in, as it barely comes to my knees.  I try to get as wet as possible, but when I try to sit I get carried by the strong current.  So we just splash ourselves, pass the soap, and laugh at our river-washing antics.  I put my whole head in and almost fall over twice, but it felt so good.
We drip dry by the fire, and eat dinner.
Sometime before ten (we think- as we kept our phones off most of the time to preserve battery life) we hear the cars coming to collect the other cars.  Spring Creek Road is the only road we can hear cars coming from, and we hear them for a long time before they appear.  There are no other noises, lights, or sounds out here.  We walk to the river again to look up at the stars, uninhibited by anything but the moon’s glow.  They are brilliantly bright.  I want to stare at them all night.  But I am so tired.
Into the hammocks.  Right to sleep like a baby.
For about twenty minutes.
Then a loud BAM! SCREECH! And I reach over and grab my pepper spray and ready it for attack!
Tiffany shines a light to where the noise came from at our picnic table.  I think that’s a crazy idea! Now they’ll know where we are!
It's a pesky raccoon.
She runs it off and I fall back asleep, but it’s a relentless scrounger who sees real opportunity here. After he gets into her pack and tries to drag it off twice, we hang both packs on the pole and bid him adieu.
Sleep, sweet sleep.  River running.  Swinging in the hammock. Drifting...
Sometime in the really early morning I awoke and thought I heard someone walking up river.  My only thought was, “Why is someone walking in the river in the middle of the night?”  I went right back to sleep.
When dawn broke we slowly came to in our mist-filled enchanted forest.  We look over at each other in amazement.  We really slept here!  Here! In the midst of the deep heart of the Lower Buffalo River, right along its glory.  We remember where we are and what we’ve done and it seems like a dream we wake into.

Hammock Camping

We determine that it had been a bear walking upstream in the middle of the night, as Tiffany had observed it with much more clarity than I could have mustered.  
Two kayakers arrive and ready themselves to put in the river.  We lounge in our hammocks, unnoticed.  I think of asking them for water, but I hate to ask anyone for anything, and I feel foolishly embarrassed for not bringing enough water on such a long trek, so I just run through it in my head.  After they leave, we get up for breakfast.  I have one water bottle left.  I’ll need to go boil water for my oatmeal and tea.  I hear a vehicle.  Five minutes later it appears and it’s a park ranger.  What luck!  I’ll just go explain my situation to him/her and maybe get some extra water for the hike back!  But as I walk from the river to the road, the truck turns around and heads right back out of the campground!  Nooooo!  I run toward the clearing and wave my arms!  Hey! Hey! Over here!  Nothing. It felt like I was in a movie.  On an island.  Parched and dying.  Almost rescued.  Almost.

I return, empty-handed.  The reality of the situation, and the weight of my unpreparedness and inability to provide for my own self becomes very apparent.  I cry a little.  I try to explain this to Tiffany.  I think she’s trying not to laugh at me, as she remains quietly busy.  I need a moment, I say, and walk away to take a break.  I find a line to hang our wet clothes on in the sun.  She assures me again that we have the LifeStraw and a fire to boil water with.  We won’t die.  This is true.

Less than an hour goes by and trucks arrive with floaters, canoes, kayaks, and one giant raft.  I stalk the situation.  Everything comes off the trailers except one canoe.  I see the guy packing up to leave and race to the road to intercede.  I explain my situation to this guy who doesn’t seem to think I’m too crazy, but just wants to know, “what do you need lady?”  I need water.  “Do you want to hike or float back to 14?”  Float? Why, YES, good idea!  But I have no money, no ID, no debit card, and a dead battery in my cell phone.  He puts my info into his phone, hands me a portable charger for my phone, leaves the extra canoe, and says he’ll be back.  The floaters (women and children) are left there along the river bank to wait for him to bring back their men.  I think of asking them to borrow their sunscreen because I know how easy it is to burn on the river.  I compare myself to the scrounging raccoon.

When canoe guy shows back up he puts the party of twenty-five into the river to float and returns to settle matters with us.  He tells us it’s a short 4.5 mile float back to 14 and recommends stopping at a creek on the left after the black bluff to hike up to explore a bit. I ask him about the water bottles he offered earlier.  He says, “Oh no….the price on that is jacked now!” He laughs and brings us down three ice cold Life Waters and two Gatorades.  We agree to go to the his store after the float and sign the canoe rental contract.  It’s out of the way and we’ll have to drive a different route home, but it’s such a minor inconvenience in light of what we’re about to get to do!

We get our big packs ready and secure them under the wooden bars that cross the canoe’s middle.  We don’t have a waterproof anything, but Tiffany has a small thick plastic drawstring bag that we put our phones into in case water gets splashed into the canoe.  We leave no trace at the campsite and put into the river.  It’s a perfect day to float.
We cannot believe we are on the Buffalo!  We dip our hats into it and put them on our heads to stay cool.  We can see fifteen feet straight to the bottom.  Huge rocks!  Enormous fish!  We look up to the right and see the ridge-line and mountain Look Out point and can hardly believe we were up that high the day before!  We were there!  Way up there!  Now we’re floating below and it’s incredible!

She’s in front and I in back, we have never canoed together before, and neither of us has had much recent experience.  But it’s the Buffalo and it just calmly carries a vessel, requiring very little effort from its visitors.  We float on the dream, amazed at the creation of this pristine wonder.
We stopped and swam, had lunch in the shade, and took our sweet time, knowing this was such a different day than we had expected it to be.

We almost missed the creek our travel adviser had described.  We had to paddle a little back upstream to it, as it apparently it hadn’t really looked like much to stop at, but we had time, so we banked our canoe again and hiked up the creek.  It was beautiful there.  I sat right in the creek bed and then laid back into it.  It was less than a foot deep and the running water gave it a remote natural spa experience.  Literally.  I relaxed and did not float away and the water poured all around me and flowed underneath me as I looked up at the trees swaying in the breeze on the rocky hillside. The little fish came and nibbled at my legs.  
I was certainly in Heaven and could not move.  All of me relaxed into all of this creation.  Tiffany must've thought the idea good and came and joined me.  We closed our eyes and stayed there for a long time.  We didn’t talk, but knew-  this was sanctuary.  A real life moment treasure of Heaven on Earth, the kind that has no price, but that brings the things of dreams -of serenity, peace, and delight colliding with present reality.  An Oasis of Time and Treasure.
We walk back to the canoe and head down the river for the last mile and a half.  We share a smile, contented beyond words.

As we round the next bend I see a kayaker ahead paddling into more rapid waters.  I mention this to Tiffany and as we approach we realize that we should have started paddling before reaching this area...like away from the tree that is in the middle of the river.  The current picks up and dips down right next to the tree and that is exactly where we are headed.  We both see this happening and try to steer away, but it is too late and we are heading right to the tree as our canoe dips and sides up next to it.  We both believe it’s going to bump into the long tree trunk and right itself into the current and it might have.  Except we both leaned to the right to avoid hitting our heads on the protruding branches and limbs.  And in slow motion, over goes the canoe.
My right knee goes down into the rocks as the canoe pushes over us as we try to stand and balance ourselves.  The water is only waist deep, thank goodness, as we heave the water-filled canoe back over.  I look around and assess what’s floating.  Towel.  Bottle. Sleeping bag.  Paddle.  Paddles!  Grab the paddles I tell Tiffany!  She does and throws them into the canoe.  I have no idea where I learned this but I once heard that if you lose your paddles you’ve lost the possibility of retrieving anything.  We haul the canoe to the opposite bank and flip it over.  The packs never budged.  They were wedged tightly under the bars with the life vests under them.  Our phones though!  They were in the plastic bag set under the rim of Tiffany’s backpack cover, but they weren’t IN anything or secured to anything!  Tiffany looks for it and it’s not there.  The phones are gone.  They either sank shortly after falling out or floated a ways down, then sank, or who knows.  We never tested its floatiness….

There’s nothing to do but put back into the river and float.  We can attempt to retrieve some of our debris.  What else was in that bag though?  OH Noooooo..the car keys!  I had put them in there because of the lock clicker!  Oh good grief.  Now we have no way to get into the car and no phone to call anyone to tell them about it when we get back to The Bridge.
The weight of this is heavy as we humbly realize that we are still on this side of Heaven.  The fallen Earth side.
We keep floating and pick up a flip flop.  Then the sleeping bag, which is so heavy I have to lean to the right for Tiffany to heave it in on the left.  It drains slowly.  What are we going to do? Tiffany offers that we could paddle back upstream and look for the bag.  I don’t think that would materialize.  Another flip flop.  We sit with it: the weight of the several things we could have done differently.  Maybe my phone had backed up our photos to google cloud on that one brief connection I had.   Maybe all of our trip photos are lost.  Tiffany says the memories are better anyway.  I agree.  She looks back at me.  It’s just stuff, I say.  I don’t know how to explain it.  But we’re still on the river.  It’s still a beautiful day, and we have had the most amazing adventure!  Phones.  Keys.  Pictures.  It’s all just convenience.  Nothing can steal the true joy from this trip.  And we agree that we’ll not be ending it like that.

When we reach the end, we bank our canoe and Tiffany exclaims We Made It!
We begin to haul our packs out and prepare for the long wait to get in contact with someone who can come get us into the car.  We talk about laying out the wet items to dry for the duration.  I find my lost shirt stuffed under the packs and as Tiffany moves her pack, there is the plastic bag with the phones and key still inside.  Damp, but all intact.
Our jaws must’ve dropped to the river rocks. Our eyes bulged.  Whaaaaaaaat? Was all I could say!  What?  Whaaaaat?  What?   I didn’t know any other words apparently.  Finally, Tiffany takes out my key, which I’d strategically strapped to a blue bungee cord (for obvious unknown reasons) and presents it to me and says, “Here’s your KEY!”

We take one last picture with her phone, throw our packs back on one last time and trek to the car, pop open the trunk, and proceed to drive the scenic route back.  We stopped at Crockett’s Country Store in Harriet to sign the canoe rental contract, and thus complete the end of the adventure….

...except for when we pulled over at a scenic overlook pass where we could see the expanse of mountains flow on and on - nearly in every direction except behind us on the road.  We had no words, but knew SO deeply that the Creator of all we could see here, dwells here -and everywhere -and gives good gifts, in great abundance--and we received them, and overflow with joy to tell of them.