After lunch today Maggie announced that she needed a rest, fetched her pacifier, walked to her room, lay down, and fell asleep.
We need to conduct further tests to determine whether she has been replaced by a doppelgänger or possessed by aliens.
On Thursday we left North Carolina and headed into Virginia. We stopped for lunch at a rest stop with the iconic Virginia slogan, “Virginia is for Lovers.” (It’s hard for me to believe that this 1969 campaign wasn’t referencing the 1967 Loving v. Virginia decision, but a quick on-line investigation wasn’t conclusive. If anyone has good sources on this, I’m interested in learning more about it.)
We stopped in the early afternoon at Hungry Mother State Park; it came recommended as a family-friendly spot not far from the highway. It’s a great park with trails, swimming, boating, and lots of other fun activities. Definitely aimed at families, there are plenty of things intended specifically for kids. We loved, for example, a nature scavenger hunt brochure that had Griffin and Maggie hunting for mushrooms, wildflowers, and other features of the region. We had nothing but positive interactions with park staff and a super-friendly ranger.
Two down-sides for us, that don’t reflect on the park at all:
Two nights and lots of fun in Asheville, North Carolina, while visiting our friends, Sue and Chris, and their three dogs, one cat, and six chickens. (Sadly, two chickens were nabbed by a raccoon on our second night, so now there are four, in a newly reinforced coop.)
Asheville has a lot to recommend it and we enjoyed a great tour with Chris while Sue was at work. Naturally, some of my best memories are dominated by food. Had some spectacular barbecue at 12 Bones, which is apparently President Obama’s top choice in town. Then, on our way out, we stopped for breakfast at Biscuit Head, which is in the running for my favorite breakfast restaurant in the world.
Below are an assortment of phone shots from our Asheville stint.
We survived the night, dry and free of unwanted atmospheric voltage. Not a great night’s rest, alas, but we’re thankful for our new, more spacious tent.
Two quotes from our journey thus far:
Monday, 4:30 PM:
Maggie: “Griffin, laugh when I say ‘Chicago.'”
Griffin: “Why do I have to laugh?!”
M: “Chi–Ca–GO!!”
G: <no laughing>
M: “Laugh Griffin!!”
G: “I don’t want to laugh. Chicago!”
M <yelling>: “NO! I want to talk about ME!!!”
G: “Chicago. Chicago. Chicago.”
M <yelling>: “NOOOOOOO!”
Tuesday, 8:30 AM:
Sarah: “Ok guys we’re going to stop here because I need some coffee and Daddy needs to go to the bathroom–”
Griffin: “–and I need an Icee!”
Midsize thunderstorm on our first night, as we camp by a river that’s four feet over flood stage. Luckily, the deluge held off until after dinner and the weather reports suggest that it will be short-lived. (But wow is it coming down right now!)
Griffin: “I really, really like thunderstorms but I’m a tiny bit scared of them.”
New tent is keeping us dry thus far. 
The second epic road trip begins!
Mileage: 118454
First destination: Asheville, North Carolina
Sarah’s out of town. I’ve been solo dad for the weekend. It’s been good. But despite best intentions, I do occasionally lose track of my progeny and have to track them down. Today I documented two unexpected incidents.
Maggie was down for a rest. I rested for a while too. Griffin was awfully quiet. I went to investigate.
Griffin is sleeping on a bit of lumber about four feet off the ground. (He rigged the precarious “bridge” earlier to create an easier method for Maggie to get into the climbing tree.)
Later, after Maggie woke up, they slipped out the side gate while I was mowing the back lawn. Upon my successful pursuit:
Nothing is cooler than the neighbor’s giant red dumpster. (Yesterday, Griffin asked for my help deciphering all of the warning stickers, then proceeded to ignore them.)
Sarah was startled by a bat in the outhouse tonight. Or she thought it was a bat. Then she discovered a nest in the corner with four baby northern flying squirrels! This is cool, of course, but we’re also sad that we have disturbed the nest. Our best guess, based on Internet research, is that they are around 20 days old — thick fur, but eyes not open yet. We’re hoping they can survive this disruption.
Update: We were relieved to find that mama squirrel took her kiddos to a safer nest overnight. The outhouse is no place to raise a family.
Spring break = five epic days of adventure at the cabin.
(And time to serialize the experience!)
Our adventures began as we drove up the dirt road to the cabin and discovered a section covered with thick ice. The culvert under the road had frozen solid so a marshy stream began trickling over the road. In the course of the winter it produced a few feet of thick, glacier-like ice. (It had the same blue color associated with glacial ice.) This was only a mild obstacle due to loss of traction until we encountered the crevasse—water had cut a channel directly across the road, easily two feet deep. On our way in we didn’t spot it in time and jolted across it. If it had been any wider, it would have been bad news. As it was, it just gave the shocks a workout. (A neighboring cabin owner with sharper eyes turned back rather than trusting his car to make it.) On our way out on Monday we laid logs inside it to provide support for the tires.
One of our main goals this trip was to cross Spring Lake and to continue exploring the trails on the south bank. (I would link to a post about our January skiing and snowshoeing adventures, but I haven’t posted it yet. Must remedy that soon.) Unfortunately, the lake ice was thinning and we weren’t brave enough to cross. We saw some ice fishermen out on our first day, so we assumed it was solid, but upon scouting we found too many dicey areas for comfort. Hearing the ice loudly crack beneath my feet sent me scurrying for shore. With the warming weather the lake remained vocal throughout the trip, providing a soundtrack of otherworldly groans, crystalline pops and cracks, and occasional booming detonations.
Deciding to remain on the north shore, we went on some extended hikes, including one where we left the trail and bushwhacked for a few hours. We clambered over (and under) fallen trees, examined fairy doors on mossy tree trunks, debated the origin of animal spoor, and got remarkably confused about our location. (Google Maps, of course, sorted things out for us, but we were astonished at how quickly the unfamiliar landscape threw off our direction sense once we left the trail.) The pictures below, from a few different hikes, don’t do justice to the beauty. Click on any image to see a larger version with the option of viewing all of them as a slideshow.
I have a very seriously disappointed girl who was crushed to discover that her new dress, passed on from a neighbor, does not in fact make her “fly like a birdie.”
