Table Rock: There and Back Again

Last Sunday we pursued Adventure.

We drove down Highway 11 and turned right.

For years we’ve driven past this gigantic rock outcropping on our way to camping excursions.

We’ve camped at the base of this giant rock known as Table Rock.

We’ve  hiked waterfalls near this rock.

We’ve driven up to high peaks and seen this rock from a distance.

But we’ve never made it to the rock, which had always seemed maybe too much or too far for an adventure with a family of mostly children.

We’ve hiked four miles or so with the kids – and maybe there was even a five or six mile trek once too.

The signs at Table Rock declare it to be a little over 3,00 feet in elevation and the trek to reach the top is a grand total of 7.2 miles!

And so, there we were.

Our family and our friends.

Four adults.

Nine kids ranging in ages from four to ten.

Ambitious and cautiously optimistic.

Prepping our kids for days beforehand, trying to speak their language to inspire them to conquer the mountainside.

“Guys, it will be just like being hobbits.  They crossed mountains and walked for weeks.  Surely we can walk for one day.”

The big kids seemed to embrace this idea, stashing water and food provisions in their packs like little squirrels prepping for the winter.

Otto Fox, however, remained just as we feared.

Neutral. 

Uncertain.

We felt confident that within two feet of the trail’s beginning he would sigh deeply, heave his shoulders and push out the words, “My yegs are tie-yurd.”

But a miracle happened.

In the parking lot, loading our packs and securing our stuff, Ben – our friend – gathers the gang around.

“Listen – for every kid that makes it to the top and then makes it back down again on their own two feet without complaining, I have a surprise.”

Nine sets of eyes – giddy and anticipating – wait for the big reveal.

And Ben pulls out a bag with a handful of special flashlight whistle things and a small stash of Nerf guns.

“Remember – these are for the kids who walk up the mountain and back down again.”

And then we hiked.

Up.  And up.

Over rocks and around rocks and under rocks.

Views of fading fall leaves and sparkling sunlight surrounding our steps.

The views at the top were ridiculous.

It was if we were sitting on the edge of the world, on a little patch of soft moss, in the hollow of the giant rocks.

Surreal.  Lovely.  Worth every step.

And our little weak link hiker?

That kid hiked SEVEN miles.

On his own two little size 12 feet.

Laughing and shirtless for half of the journey.

He gave himself a nickname for the trail.

Wolfpack Thunderbolt.

On the way back, trekking through the woods, a little pebble or something was lodged in his shoe.

“Daddy, my foot hurts – my right toe hurts really badly.”

And Kevin stops and helps him and tells him, “Son, I tell you what – when we reach the ranger station, I’ll take this shoe off and carry you to the car.”

A pause.

A quiet response.  “No, Daddy.  I can walk.  Mr. Ben says if we want our treat we have to walk to the car ourselves.”

I’m not certain if you call that bribing.  I think we’ll term it motivation.

At any rate – it was an incredible day for a fall hike.

No one fell off the edge.

Yes, I was worried about that from time to time.

And we proved we can hike seven miles.

Where should we hike next?