Parents' Corner
by
Johnny Jones July 1987

 Our family hiked 5 1/2 miles up to the top of Mt. LeConte on our vacation. We were surprised by the beauty.  The waxy  rhododendron alongside the trail grew large and jungle-like, surrounded by trees so big that they looked like they'd been growing there since the beginning of time.  The rhododendon flowers were white touched with pink.  The overall effect was dark green, fragrant, and lush.

 A stream babbled over rocks to fill our silence for the first few miles of the Alum Cave trail.  Nobody wanted to talk at first; it would have been like shouting during church.  Except for the few moments when we passed someone or they passed us, we were alone.  We could talk or sing or be silent, surrounded by beauty of ear and eye most people find only in movies.

 Streams of sunlight cascaded down through the trees in the morning, and there whispered here and there a hint of the fogginess that gives the Smokey Mountains their name.  We felt that if we looked hard, we could probably see hobbits there.

 Three quarters of the way up we started rating the views.  Bryan was the first one to say, "Wow!" as he looked down several thousand feet over trees, rocks, and peaks of other mountains.  Next Amy saw something that surpassed the first one - so we invented the "Double Wow."  The very best was one near the top - a sight so perfect, looking down on clouds and birds and forests and streams that it was deserved the top rating of "Triple Wow."

 We found a fallen log for lunch - a tree so enormous it served both as table and chairs.  We were cheered twice by lunch, since we lightened our packs of food and water as we ate.

 One older lady passed us early on our walk, in the company of several younger women.  They met us on their way down after we had eaten our lunch. "Down already?" I asked.  "We sat on the porch at the lodge to eat our lunch, them came back," they replied.  "We're doing just a one-day hike."

 We were asked to sign in at the lodge.  One of the questions was, "How many times have you hiked Mt. LeConte?"  I put "1" in and glanced at the other entries.  Most of them were also "1" or maybe "2."  One of them said "303."

 "Is this a joke?" I asked the young man at the desk.

 "Not at all," he replied.  "Read the article on the wall."

 Among the rack of Mt. LeConte post cards and near a shelf stacked with old books there was a newspaper article protected by plastic.  "Ruth Stephenson Makes 300th Climb," headlined the article about the older lady who had passed us on the trail.  It turns out she is 75 and has hiked every trail in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. That's close to 1000 miles.

 After we signed in a young man of fourteen showed us to our cabin.  All the cabins were rustic log structures, some with one, some with two, some with three bedrooms.  We were given a key to the flush toilets and a water pail as part of our accommodation.  The cabins didn't have door keys.

 At first Kent showed us to a cabin already occupied in one bedroom by two crying children.  One was seven weeks old, the other 22 months.  Their dad carried them up the mountain, the infant on his front, the toddler on his back.  The mother carried up the diapers and other gear.  "Why?" I wanted to know.

 "We really love this place," the young father replied.

 Kent apologized; we were in the wrong cabin.  He then showed us another cabin with three small bedrooms off a large living area right out of a Laura Ingalls Wilder story, complete with fireplace and rockers.  We could choose between the bedrooms since we were there first.

 Our bedroom was nothing like we had pictured.  We were told we'd get a room with two double beds.  Have you ever seen a double bunkbed before?  This one was  made mostly from varnished saplings.  There were a couple of feet surrounding the bed on all sides - just enough room to stack our packs and put the basin on the floor for a spit bath.  We put our snacks on the small table where we found our coffee cups.

 What did everyone do?  Go for walks.  Drink coffee or hot chocolate.  Sit in the porch rockers talking and looking at the gorgeous views.  Play the guitar.  Sing.  Tell stories.   Read a book.  Make friends.

 It turned out that the young man who showed us our rooms was the owner's son.  They were short-handed so he was helping out for a couple of weeks. His time was up on Sunday.  "How do you feel about going back down?" I asked.

 "I hate it,"  he replied.  "I'll be back in the real world."

 I guess that's why the young father hiked up carrying two children, why Ruth Stephenson made the climb over three hundred times, why we bothered with sweat and dirty clothes and aching backs.  For a time we found an escape from the real world.  We found time to put problems aside and get a fresh perspective.  Time to be together and share something different.  Time to glory in God's creation.

 We tell our kids, "Don't avoid things in life just because they involve a little discomfort.  Most worthwhile things do."

 Philip Brooks said it better:  "Do not pray for easy lives.  Pray to be stronger men."  Challenges makes us stronger people and give us confidence. Meeting them makes us glad.

this is a link to the Smoky Mountains

 Chip and I walk for a lot of reasons:  That's when we talk to one another and share what happened during our day.  Walking lowers our stress. And it keeps us in shape so that we can hike with our kids on vacation.  In the Smokies last week, we rediscovered the pleasure of Alum Bluff, a 5-mile trail up to the top of Mte. LeConte, where we stayed in cabins so many years ago.  Chip found the page where he had written a note to our children three years ago, and they both read his hope that we could join their children on that trail some day.  And we found the place at the top where Bryan had gone exploring among some rocks while we waited with a group for sunset--until someone asked in horror, "Whose child is that down there?" I was too embarrassed to admit he was mine; I thought that, having trained on Elephant Rocks and Johnson's Shut-Ins, he would surely be OK.  He was, but the climb was more adventure than he bargained for.  And naturally, Amy followed him-- although not in the worst spots.  So, of course, they did it again--but Bryan's 6-foot height made it easy this time. We enjoyed eating our peanut butter sandwiches, drinking from our canteens, and watching a falcon float on the refreshing mountain air overlooking that spot.  Amy's favorite hike was Kephart Prong.  It's only a couple of miles up to one of the shelters on the Appalachian trail, but the trail follows a stream, so that you are never far from either the sight or sound of water. There is a lovely view on every one of the moss-covered log bridges--of rocks that look old and wise sprinkled by water that makes net-like skirts around them.  And the colors--the greens and browns and  grays, and the white of the rushing water--are amazing.  We didn't hike the Noland Ridge trail this trip; it starts out pretty icky, with a horse trail.  But the views on the ridge are amazing.   We rode the lower part on horseback.  Deep Creek has more of a sedate trail, but its pleasure is the whitewater tubing.  I did it once; I chose not to do it again.  This was Bryan's first time for the wild ride, rushing down the river in the tube with a seat.  The girls  all screamed--and everyone got dumped at least once.  Our last hike was about 8 miles along Noland Creek, off the Road to Nowhere just outside Bryson City NC.  Our cabin was off this road, which ran out of government funds over 60 years ago after a tunnel was completed.  A billboard just before the entrance to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park still proclaims, "The Road to Nowhere--A Broken Promise, 1943-?".  The fun of hiking for us is not only in the challenge of walking or the beauty of the trails (although we love the natural wonder we see); it is also in the visiting.  When we are at our little cabin we do meals together, and that's fun; or we have devotionals together, and that's great; but on the trails we split into smaller groups and talk deeply.  We tell one another what's on our minds and our hearts.  We get to know one another again.  And that's what we, who are so often separated, need, as well as what we desire.  It was fun to see other families on the trails doing what we were doing: Enjoying the beauty God created and enjoying one another.   I am so thankful we can hike with our grown children.   So when you see us out walking, we may not be thinking of Viburnum streets; we may be thinking of the Smokies or our kids, of beauty and depth and wonder off the Road to Nowhere.