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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1374617-The-Perfect-Day---Part-1
Rated: E · Essay · Other · #1374617
This is one of a series of days I envision when someone asks me about my "Perfect Day".
The Perfect Day – Part 1

I wake at dawn to a cold morning and frost on the tent. The chill of the morning is overcome by nature's call as I pull on my boots and coat and open the flap on the front of my North Face Vario 23 quietly so as to not wake up Mary Grace. Bailey romps out the tent past me intent on catching whatever it was that she saw in the brush.

After a few minutes “communing with nature” and relieving myself in the bushes, I am feeling the cold and know that to go back to bed will only prolong the inevitable. I grab a few branches from the pile and go to the fire pit to stoke the embers from last night’s blaze. Quickly, the fire warms the area just adjacent to it. Bailey stares longingly into the fire as if she is going to jump into it.

Warming my hands up and getting the blood flowing in my body, I gaze over the horizon to see the darkness of the morning beginning to be broken by the pinks, oranges, yellows and blues of the sun rising and coming into the sky. As the blackness erodes and the sharpness of the azure winter sky begins to take shape, the characters of the forest begin to scuttle about. There is a titmouse that is bound and determined to get closer to the warmth of the fire. He continues to flit down to the ground and each time, the giant yellow furball jumps up and chases him. “Easy, Bailey,” I state, “give him a chance to warm up – you’re already warm”

Speaking of warmth, a good cup of coffee or tea sounds good and I also realize that Bailey has neither food nor water available. I walk towards the main tree in the center of our campsite and retrieve our food bag. I dig into the bag and pull out bailey’s bag dishes and her dog-food which I set down to her as I retrieve water for her other bowl and to make coffee.

It’s a 5 minute walk down the mountain to the stream and fresh water. As I approach the spring, I see two brown rabbits scurrying off the trail and into the bramble bushes. They have been taking advantage of the little green plants on the side of the trail, stocking up because they know it will be a long winter and snow will be here soon. There are a few acorns about though – I’m certain they can take advantage of these and the hickory nuts that lie on the ground. I grab a few bottles of water and bound back up the trail.

Breakfast is my next thought. Oh, how I would love to have a full plate of eggs and bacon. Oatmeal is the best I can do under the circumstances, however and it’s a quick solution for a meal as we push to get back on the trail. I start warming water for coffee and breakfast and then roust my hiking companion from her warm sleeping bag.

We’ve got 9 miles to cover today to the next pavilion and need to get going soon. It’s already 6:00am and we’re losing daylight. Ordinarily, if I were on my own, I’d grab an apple, a breakfast bar and water and roll – screw the fire. But I know my daughter isn’t quite that flexible (that comes from her mother’s side) and will need a little time to get up and get going.

As MG gets her oatmeal and coffee, I pack up our tent and jam the Kelty Monaco sleeping bags into their stuff sacks. I grab a clan shirt and a sweatshirt out of my pack as I realize the chill of the morning will be brushed off as the sun rises and we get going. MG is still wearing her camp moccasins and looks like she just rolled out of bed. Saying we need to get going, she scarfs her breakfast down and grabs her small bag and bounds off to take care of business. “Back in a flash, Dad,” She yells as she runs down the trail.

By 6:30, we are moving. Bailey is about 20 feet ahead of us, checking the bushes and occasionally finding something to chase for a few minutes. I don’t like her to get too far ahead of us as there are both boars and bears on this part of the trail. I would hate to think of what would happen should she get caught up with either. As we venture up the trail (we are headed north), we pass a few other hikers – mostly through hikers who started in Maine the previous spring – but a few others who are just taking overnight hikes from the park up the road. It is a beautiful morning with little or no cloud cover at the beginning of the day. However, as it nears lunchtime, I can see a few clouds on the western horizon and remember the weather report noting a possibility of showers or snow while we are out here.

We stop at a rock outcropping around noon for a quick lunch of baked chicken and venture to open a small bottle of wine (both gifts from friends at home). The chicken is a basic “blasted chicken”, but tastes like heaven. The wine is a simple Pino Grigio from de Medici. Cool and crisp, it offsets the chicken perfectly. We toss a few pieces to Bailey along with a few dog bones – dog’s got a huge, appetite especially when we’re walking. We note the cloud cover starting to move in a little more quickly now and are aware that the change in weather is also affecting our moods. We awoke rather pleasant, but are now nipping at each other. Even Bailey notices as she tries to stay her distance from us for now.

After lunch, we decide to push on to the next stop which is only another 2 miles ahead – we should be there by 3:00pm with more than enough time to get wood and a fire going before the sky opens up. With luck, someone will be there ahead of us and already have the fire going.

I look back and am happy that Grace is with me and that Bailey is still alive. It’s a great day and I never would have thought it possible a few years ago when I was dealing with my depression. There were days then that I thought I would need to crawl into a cave and die. I went days on end just playing fucking games on my computer – not doing any work, not doing any writing, just barely getting by (although you wouldn’t know it from what I ate those days!) With a lot of work and help, I was able to come out of it and make strides forward to health and prosperity. I also never imagined taking this much time away from my job to be out here.

With Mary Grace now in college, I knew that the time was coming soon we would not be able to do this type of thing again for some time. I asked her plainly one afternoon if she would like to join me on the Appalacian Trail sometime for a hike. She said she would and so we spent an entire day at the REI store stocking up on various backpacking gear. I think we wore the sales force out that day with all of the questions, but nevertheless we had a good time and got some great equipment. We were set for a few weeks on the trail, though this trip would only be a few days as a warmup.

Bailey was sure up for it – she loves being outside and even more loves to hike the trails. She’s even got her own backpack! She’s kind of the glue that holds us together right now. When Bailey the First passed away, I vowed that I would never get another dog because the pain of losing her was so great that I almost couldn’t bear it. Mary Grace surprised me on my 55th birthday with a surprise. A box that was huge was brought into the room where we were having a small get together and when she set it on the floor, it moved. From inside a small yelp and the top of the box popped off. I looked in to see the most beautiful golden retriever puppy since we got Bailey I back in 2000 in Virginia. She was certainly a source of energy for me and brought laughter and oohs and ahs into the room. Playful and curious, she did not shy from much and certainly could have been a rescue dog had we trained her for such.

As the trails wind up and down the hills here, we start to spend more time climbing and less time descending. We know that we're going to be coming to the summit before we will hit our camp for the evening. Around 5:00PM, we cross a small stream. It is all I could do to get Bailey to keep moving and get the heck out of the stream. We spend about 20 minutes playing there and then have to hustle to make the peak before the campsite.

As we wind up the trail, it is as if we are in a tunnel. The trees and bushes are growing over the top of the trail. It seems as we walk along that we will never reach the peak. And then, in an instant it appears…we round a corner and the trees open up and we are standing at the apex of this mountain. There is a small clearing, a sign and hundreds of miles of open space. It feels like we are at the top of the world. I look up and as the sun begins to set and I see the contrail of a commercial airliner. What I always think of at times like this; think of the fools in first class and they will never have the joy of wandering on this trail.

Off to the south, the trail meanders over the top of this crest for some time. It is almost like a field with a line scratched through the middle of it. We walk for about another 10 minutes and decided to ditch the idea of going on to the shelter – we’ll camp there at the peak.

And so in the setting sun, with our campsite setup and a small fire for warmth and to cook, we watch as the great orb slowly slips from the sky and the end of a perfect day...
© Copyright 2008 Bruce Kelly (bak8726 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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