Day 221....More Falls!

Today is Sunday, and after a full week of nothing but rain, and deciding that it was get-out-of-the-house-or-die time, I decided to go exploring to see if I could find Elk River Falls, which is just over the state line in NC, past Roan Mtn. My mother-in-law had told me about them, and had tried on several occasions to explain the fairly difficult process of getting to them, but even with her excellent directions, I had tried...and failed...several times.

The Elk River runs through the mountains of NC, beginning somewhere north of Boone, I believe, and meandering south through Banner Elk and Elk Park. It is in Elk Park where the turnoff is that leads to the falls, but today I discovered why I could never seem to find it before: It is only visible if you are heading west, which I never am doing, coming from TN as I am. But I just so happened to have taken a scenic drive that put me in a position to be heading back through Elk Park on my way home, and lo and behold....a sign!

So I pulled off the highway, and followed the signs to the falls. Not so hard to do, once you've found the main road in.

Elk River Falls turned out to be located in just as lovely a setting as my mother-in-law had described. The only thing detracting from it was the water, which was very muddy due to the recent heavy rains. Normally, the waterways around here are crystal clear. The path from the small parking area runs through the woods along the river a short way before bringing you out onto a large granite outcropping that juts out into the river, forming the top of the falls.

Situated on this outcropping are also a fair amount of large boulders, just right for reclining and enjoying the view of all the people sunning themselves on the rocks below the falls, and swimming in the pool formed at the base. There are even a few adventurous souls who dive in from the top of the falls from the far side, where someone has attached a rope for the purpose of climbing down to the cliff edge. Not me. That's all I will say. Not me. If you know where to look, the rope is barely visible in both the above pics, dangling from the treeline down across the rockface.

It was my intention to follow the trail on down to the bottom of the pool where the other people were. I'm sure the view of the falls from that angle is spectacular. Unfortunately, my sense of balance is iffy on the best of days, and the trail was very steep, very muddy, and lacked a handrail of any kind. Translation: Me laying in a puddle at the bottom had I tried. And most likely, I'd have had to spend the night there waiting on a rescue party to haul me back up. So I parked myself on the boulders at the top of the falls, and enjoyed a wonderful afternoon in the shade, enjoying the roar of the falls and people-watching. Having no desire to spend the next six months in various casts, I left exploring the lower part of the falls for a drier day, when I can go back and enjoy pristine water, and nice, dry trails...preferably in the company of my hubby. There is just so much up here that I can't wait to share with him, and so much that I know we'll wind up exploring and finding together. It's very easy to imagine what the explorers in the early days of the colonies were met with when they went on their travels, there are places here where you can forget that civilization even exists at all. Perfect.

Day 236...Race Day!!

Good evening, sports fans! Today was the day... the day I declared my Independence from being an official Couch 'Tater and completed the #1 goal on my bucket list...the Peachtree Road Race!

I had arrived in Conyers on Friday morning, and spent a lovely day visiting with friends and family, so I was well rested by this morning. Got up at the crack of dawn, dressed and headed downtown early, so I would be able to find a decent parking spot. I had decided to park at the Lindbergh Marta station, and ride Marta over to Lenox Square.

Coming out of the train station was surreal. I felt like I was in some kind of fog, like I couldn't actually be doing this...for real...right? But I was. There was still a tinge of darkness to the light, but the day had dawned bright and clear, and the air was crisp and cool...perfect for a run.

Heading up Lenox Rd. toward the staging area for my time group (#3), I was reminded of how many memories this area holds for me....beginning with my earliest shopping excursions with my aunt as a child, when the mall was still an open shopping center...through my first marriage, and my second...working at Hertz in the J.W. Marriott with Bill as Valet Manager for the hotel....later working for Lieben just a few blocks away....and even later still...working for London Livery just a block away. It can't be 40 years I've been walking down this street...but it has been.

Time Group 3's staging area just happened to be located on Lenox Rd., right before you get to Peachtree, so I didn't have far to walk. I could hear the helicopters already busy hovering overhead...both police and news copters. That made for even more excitement permeating the air, but also caused problems a bit later on when we had trouble hearing the announcements over the loudspeakers. Here, you can see one I caught hovering over the J.W. Marriott.

I had made sure to eat a good breakfast before I left the house...not too much, but enough to give me the fuel I would need to run six miles. I had also brought my trusty bottle of water, which I can't seem to run without for feeling positively naked. But I was also desperately trying NOT to drink out of it until the race actually started, for fear that the need for a porta-potty would hit me as soon as we took off. Not so much from water, mind...as from nerves. Fortunately, I was able to avail myself of a fresh, clean potty before I got to the staging area, and did not need to go again until I got back home. Once the actual race began, a potty was the last thing on my mind. Still...it was good to know we had so many available to us.

Once at the staging area, there was nothing to do but wait, since our start time was still an hour away. The time was spent to good use stretching, fidgeting with my phone to get the 'right' running music playing, and generally getting mentally into the zone. Then there was nothing to do but sit in the street and wait for our group to be moved up. I wound up striking up conversations with the two ladies seated here, and ran half the race with the one in pink. Unfortunately, I never learned her name, nor she, mine. A terrible oversight, to be sure...she was really nice.

Hearing the national anthem being sung around the corner, and watching a huge Air Force plane go by overhead in honor, was incredibly nerve-wracking, as it meant that we were only moments away from our start. So, we took deep breaths and stood up. Finally, it was our group's turn to make our way to the start line, and they began to move us up Lenox Rd, and around the corner onto Peachtree, toward the starting line. Here, you can see Time Group #4 across the intersection, waiting their turn. Time Group #5, which my cousin Mark was running in, was staged to the right of the pic.

This was probably the most nerve-wracking moment of the whole thing...it was like when you first get into the car on a roller coaster, and the car actually leaves the station with you belted in...you know there's no turning back now. I don't remember ever being so excited...or so scared! Here, you can see the HUGE American flag suspended from a crane. That's the actual starting line, but I was that far back in our pack. I had to hold the camera above my head to take this pic.

Then, before I knew it, we got the green light, and we were off!

The first mile or so, we were still packed tightly, and because of that, we really walked/trotted more than we ran. But as we went, things started spreading out, and the farther we went, the easier it got. Along about the second mile marker, we passed the Cathedral of St. Phillip, an Episcopal church where, having been raised in that faith, I've spent many a midnight mass in on Christmas Eve. The priests are known to stand on the curb there and sprinkle Holy Water on the runners, so at the suggestion of one of my best friends, who coincidentally happens to be a parishoner there, I made sure to run down the right side curb in order to get liberally sprinkled. And sprinkled, I was! He got me right across the face....a blessing, to be sure, if for no other reason than it was July in Atlanta, and I was HOT!

Mile after mile, we ran, slowing or walking at each of the really big hills...of which there are several grueling ones that you don't notice when you are driving, but become unforgettable when you have to run them...and finally, I could see the turn onto Tenth Street approaching. I had set a goal of 90 minutes to finish the race, and as I turned onto Tenth Street, I checked my time. By my calculations, I only had six minutes to finish that leg. At that point, I pulled out all the stops, and FLEW. Now, by anybody else's standards, my speed is laughable. But trust me when I say that by MY standards, my feet sprouted wings. Until I saw what I THOUGHT was the finish line up ahead. For some reason, I slowed down there, and now I really wish I hadn't, because what I thought was the finish line was really the spot where the photographers were waiting overhead to take our pics as we ran under. Thus...I look like I was jogging in my pics. That's because at that particular point, I was. But no matter how slow it looks

like I'm running, I was still running faster than my usual pace! As soon as I cleared under the photography bank, I realized my mistake, though, as nobody else slowed down or stopped...they just kept running full-force. About that same time, I heard someone from the croud holler that we only had a half mile to go, and it was all downhill from there on, and although I was momentarily discouraged, I was at the same time heartened that I would not have to fight my way over any more steep grades. So once again, I picked up the pace, knowing I had only about two minutes to go that last half mile if I was going to hit my goal. That was the point where I found my true focus, and everything else blurred. I've never felt so in the zone in my life...or so alive. The feeling of flying was incredible. And as the finish line came into view at last, I did not slow. I ran faster. And faster. And faster still. I pulled out all the stops, because I knew that this was it....the moment I had worked so hard for for so long. And that this moment would never come again.

As I crossed over the finish line, emotion washed over me, and I felt myself dissolve into tears. Of pride. Of accomplishment. And even at the same moment that I wished it, in this place that was only about 3 blocks from the house where I was born and raised for the first ten years of my life, I felt the overwhelming presence of my parents surrounding me, beaming down on the girl who always failed P.E. in school, and exclaiming "Well done! We're so proud of you!"

And I believe with all my heart that they are. But not nearly as proud as I am of myself. My final time: 1:28:22

I had hit my goal, with time to spare.

Day 239...Here goes nuthin'.

I have a lot to catch up on...things have been hectic lately in this last run-down to the race. I'll have to post more next week when I have more time.

Right now, I can only think of the Race. It is my only focus. I've done everything I can do to prepare. I've put it all out there...every day. I've given it my best. Now all that's left is to step up to the line and go.

I'm heading to Atlanta this afternoon. Wish me luck!

Day 258...It's the little things

My oldest grandson, Dakota sent me this video today to share some important news. He was so excited!

Congratulations, 'Kota! Nana loves you!

Day 262...Small Victories

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear...an amazing thing, really, considering we were in the process of growing fins and building an ark in the back yard to escape all the recent rains we've been deluged with. It promised to be a beautiful day, and that was a very good thing....for me, at least.
This past week, Elizabethton celebrated their 40th Covered Bridge Festival, and it was to culminate in several events on Saturday morning, including a 3K Fun Walk, and a 5K run. My wonderful, supportive M-I-L brought this to my attention last week by presenting me with a clipped newspaper ad she had saved for me, just in case I might be interested in running.
This, I thought, might be just what the proverbial doctor ordered...a 'practice' run, if you will, to help me prep for the mighty Peachtree Road Race 10K a mere 4 weeks from now.

For those of you who do not know, it has been a Bucket List item of mine for many years now to run the Peachtree, which takes place every year on the 4th of July in Atlanta. It has grown from a little 110-entry race back in 1970 to the world's largest 10K, now at a maximum capacity of 55,000 entries, with people fighting and clawing for a coveted spot each year. Every year for the past...oh, probably 20...years, I have said that next year, I was going to run it. And every Fourth of July found me saying the same thing....next year. Problem was, next year never seemed to get here. I began this year with a different goal in mind....February 26th, 2010, the day Alan comes home. No more excuses why I can't get in shape, can't get healthy. February's coming, whether I'm ready or not. And I must be ready. What better motivation than to put myself into a situation from which there was no return? So with that in mind, I started running, and threw my hat into the ring on that fateful Entry Sunday back in March, knowing as I did, that if I managed to secure a spot, there was no turning back....I HAD to be on that starting line in July, ready or not. No choice but to be ready. And since then, I have made sure that everyone knew I had lost my mind and entered this race (for accountability's sake) and trained like crazy every freakin' day.

With this in mind, I was up early at 5 am, to eat, dress, and head downtown to enter this local race, thinking it would be good practice for the Peachtree. I felt good, nothing aching much except my left hip, which has been giving me a lot of grief here lately, but I had taken some Ibuprofen, and felt pretty good despite the mild discomfort I was still feeling. After registration, I had about an hour to kill before the start of the race, so I turned on the tunes and started a warm-up run to stretch out my muscles. Nothing too strenuous (not that any of my runs are), just enough to get past that feeling that I'm laboring too hard, which normally takes up the first 1/2 mile or so of any run I have. I wasn't really worried about making it to the finish line, after all it was only a 5K (3.1 miles), and I routinely run at least that far pretty much every day.

About 15 minutes into my warm-up, I felt my hip go crunch. Can't explain it any better than that. There was no pain, just the uncomfortable feeling that something clearly wasn't right, and a wobbly feeling that hadn't been there before. Still, since I wasn't hurting, I finished my run...taking it very easy...and made sure I stretched well before heading to the start line.

As the other runners made their way to the line, I found myself about a third of the way back, and surrounded by men and women of all ages, who to a person had the typical runner's physique...long, lithe, and muscular. And then there was me. The only one of those three that fit me was the long part. Otherwise, there ain't nothin' lithe or muscular about me....yet. (But it's coming...don't you worry!) I stood there, trying not to think of how out of place I was, and the next thing I knew, the guy up front was telling us to stay to the right as we came across the covered bridge at the end, and make sure if we had to throw up, to hang our head off the road....(was that right he said...or left?) Holy cow...I forgot what he said the second he said it. And then, we were off...just like that. Running down E. Elk Ave., which is our Main St., heading for the highway. Right away, I could tell the adrenaline rush had hit me, because the pack did not pull away immediately, but by the time we got to the bottom of the hill, I was blowing hard, and knew I'd been running way too fast. So, even though I knew what was about to happen, I let up and watched the pack pass me by.

Can I just stop here for a moment and say for the record how demoralizing it is to watch over 100 people pass you like you were standing still?

Anyway, by the time I had reached the highway, I had pretty much recovered my breath, and rounded the corner at a good pace, readying myself for the long slow uphill grade I was facing. Breath good....water good....everything in sync. I felt like Claire taking stock of her internal inventory.

Then I felt my hip go crunch again. That scared me.

I slowed up momentarily, expecting pain to explode through my left side, but it never materialized. My nerves jangled for a few seconds, and the discomfort was still there, along with the wobbly-ness, but no pain. Shaken up, to say the least, I warred with myself whether I should continue or not, as this seemed like the perfect cop-out if I should decide to take it. Just like I'd always done before.

Nope. Not this time. I didn't care where I finished, as long as I did. Onward and upward I slogged, deciding that if and when I felt pain, I would stop. Fortunately, I never had to stop. For a while I overtook a lady in front of me who had slowed to a walk, but she started running again, and passed me. My biggest concern was not coming in dead last....I wanted to beat the turtle, not be the turtle. Any spot other than dead last would mean a victory for me. So I risked a glance over my shoulder, and saw several others falling way behind me. I can't tell you what that did for me.

Rounding the far turn, I got a better look, and even though I was overtaken by one other, no one else was close enough to challenge me at that point and I knew it. I was home free...as long as my hip held out. For most of the trip back, I ran in an isolated pocket. The main group was far ahead, and the turtles were far behind, so I was left as I usually am....running alone. That suited me fine. I was able to buckle down and concentrate on my rhythm, and that helped a lot.

I can't tell you what a great feeling it was to round that final turn and see the covered bridge in front of me...the finish line. The closer I got, the faster and stronger I ran. And finished my first race, fast and strong...just the way I had envisioned. My final time....42:27. Granny slow by anyone's standards, but mine. And my spot....#160 in a field of 176. Not bad for a 46 year old overweight grandmother with a gimpy hip.

I now have a 5K personal best to beat in my next race. And the adrenaline rush in the beginning was nothing compared to the one I felt when I came across that bridge at the end, knowing that I had finished what I had started. Did it help me prep for the Peachtree? You bet...because now I know that I can finish. But more than that, it helped me prep for the rest of my life...and the best is yet to come.

Day 265...A Sad One...

Today marks the second anniversary of the death of a truly great man...the likes of which I fear are fading all too fast in this modern day and age. This man lived through what is arguably the greatest age in modern times, and long enough to see probably more technological advancement in his lifetime than most of us will ever even be able to comprehend.

Born in rural south GA in 1920, he was the son of a welder, and the eldest of six children. He grew up hard on those red dirt roads, never making it past the 8th grade in school, because he had to go to work to help the family. There were no lights in rural GA back then...no electricity. His mother cooked on an iron stove, and the family stayed warm during the winters bundled in front of fireplaces. No cars...no telephones...no technology of any kind.

But he had Drive. Ambition. And a Determination to Make Something of Himself.

Always an engineer at heart, he was fascinated by machinery, and recognized the potential to Invent a Better Mousetrap. Setting about to design a more efficient automobile engine, he came up with a design for the rotary engine, and submitted his drafts to the Ford Motor Co., knowing as he did that there was a flaw in the cooling system. Ford sent the papers back, stamped with approval, and told him they were very interested in speaking to him about his design...as soon as he worked out that flaw.

As luck would have it, that corresponded with the advent of WWII, and being of age, he enlisted in the Army, and rose in the ranks of the mighty 2nd Armored Division, working as General Patton's radio operator as a Tech Sgt., and earning a Bronze Star for his efforts in the field. During this time, a German (ironically enough) named Wankel, who happened to be an engineer with the ability to work out the flaw in the cooling system, got the jump on his idea....and thus the Mazda Rotary Engine was born.

Zoom. Zoom.

As his life progressed he married, had 3 children, lost his wife to a debilitating disease at an early age, and eventually remarried, gaining another child in the process. Always driven to learn more about the world around him, he put himself through college, and then law school. Eventually, he found himself on the cutting edge of the computer age, and immersed himself completely in learning to program, which led him down incredible paths in his later years.

A published poet, and a Freemason for most of his life, he had a wide range of interests...always Building, Designing, Creating the world around him. He loved great literature, great music, great art, great history, and he instilled this love in his children, playing a key part in shaping the lives of his grand...and even great grandchildren. And he loved....fiercely, completely, utterly, without limits, or judgements. His loyalty knew no bounds, and no matter how much you might disagree with him (and you would) , you could never deny that love. It oozed from every pore. This was a man you desperately wanted in your corner. In his later years, his interests turned heavily toward geneology, and it was critical to him that his progeny not lose sight of their roots. Family was everything.

His 87 years spanned those dirt roads of his youth to space-age technology, and he embraced every ounce of it with open arms. Change meant growth, and this was a man who never stopped growing.

The world is a much emptier place without him, and I miss him more than I can say. Every day, every moment, I miss his knowledge and wisdom. I never asked him a question that he didn't have an answer for...even if that answer was "let's find out". He is the source of my genetic pool, and one of the main reasons I am who I am today. There are no words for me to describe how unbelievably proud and honored I am that of all the millions of people in the world, I was one of the lucky ones that got to call him Daddy.

Birl Randolph Brown, Sr.

6/14/20-6/5/07

May he forever rest in peace.

Day 266...Catch-up

Wow...a lot's happened in the past couple of weeks!

I headed south to spend Memorial Day weekend with my hunny. We had a great time, even though it rained the whole weekend. Ian and Krystal came down with the baby, so we got to see Harmony for the first time since her birthday. She's walking now, and was tearing around like crazy! It was so funny to watch her, she's so independent now. And sad, too, in a way, because it's another milestone she's passed that will never come again.

The Tuesday after Memorial Day was my birthday, and I have to say that I think it ranked right up there in the top 5, as far as birthdays go. First of all...it was the last birthday that either Alan or I will have to spend alone. Next year, he'll be home.
Second, I think everybody I know either called, wrote, sent cards, emailed or posted...with one glaring exception. And the funny thing is....I knew she hadn't forgotten. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, last Friday, a package came in the mail that contained the most beautiful silver celtic heart bracelet and pewter phoenix necklace. They were so perfect, I cried.

Reader, if you're one of the ones that remembered me that day....thank you for making my day so special.

So that left me with having to spend another 3 weekends at home before I can head south again. Faced with the prospect of having a beautiful Saturday on my hands last weekend, I decided it was time to go adventuring again. So adventuring I went! This time, I decided to head to Mt. Mitchell, in NC...the highest point east of the Mississippi River. (I've included a pic here of the Mighty Mountain in all its Glory, but trust me....you can't tell from this pic how Mighty it really is.) It's not that far from the house as the crow flies. Problem is....there ain't no roads the way the crow flies. Consequently, you can't get there from here.

The entrance is actually located on the Blue Ridge Parkway, north of Asheville, but after following some very misleading signs, I came in from the opposite direction. After winding all the way around my elbow to get to my thumb, I had finally arrived at the State Park, and proceeded to the summit. This park doesn't offer a lot in the way of recreation, except for a few small hiking trails, a picnic table or two, a restaurant, and a view....but OMG, what a view it is! 360 degrees worth, and so far out you can see the curvature of the earth. But I digress...

The ride up to the summit is largely shielded behind a lot of trees, but here and there you can sneak a peek of what's to come. Of course, my ears were popping all the way, but then, they had been for the past 30 minutes before I even GOT to the park. The first real view you get is from the parking lot at the base of the summit. The elevation here, according to the sign, is 6,578 feet.

There is a snack bar, small museum and gift shop located at the parking lot, but the main attraction still lies ahead...up a paved walkway. A very steep paved walkway. So steep, in fact, that they constantly run a golf cart back and forth from the parking lot to the observation deck at the summit for the benefit of the elderly and handicapped, which I thought extremely thoughtful, under the circumstances. Most of them would never have been able to make it, otherwise. But for someone in as magnificent shape as I was in...by virtue of my Runner's Status (in training for the Peachtree 10K, don'tcha know...)...I promptly pooh-poohed the thought and charged full-steam ahead, up that massive incline, determined to prove to myself just what excellent physical condition I had achieved.

Halfway up, I had to stop, literally gasping for air. No energy, no strength, no BREATH, for God's sake....what was wrong with me? Had all my training the past 5 months been for nothing? Just the thought had me panicking, thinking of trying to face that 10K in the broiling July Atlanta heat in such sad shape. While I was trying desperately to recover, I snapped this pic of the observation deck that was my objective, hanging still piteously far above my head, mocking me. Didn't occur to me until about 5 or 10 minutes later what the problem was. "Idiot," I said to myself. "Do you realize how high up you are? You can't breathe because there's no air up here. Airplanes fly this high, for God's sake, and you up here trying to run up the side of a mountain. Of course you're out of breath!" Feeling like a fool, I trudged ever onward, rounding the final curve only to come face to face with a....grave? Yep. The grave of one Rev. Elisha Mitchell, to be exact. Apparently, he was responsible for first measuring the elevation of the mountain, and laying the claim of it being the highest point. Contending that fact was his colleague, Thomas Clingman (of Clingman's Dome fame), who was claiming that HIS mountain was higher. The good Reverend was in the process of proving the virtue of his own claim when, crossing the top of a waterfall on the mountainside, he fell into the water below, and knocked unconscious by the fall, he drowned. He was found a week later by a local guide named Big Tom. Really. Now you know the REST of the story. :)

There is also an 'official' elevation sign here, as well, just to prove that you are standing 6, 684 feet above sea level. But the climb is not quite done...you still have to ascend the ramp to the observation deck, which you can see behind the grave. Once at the top, the view is absolutely...well, there are no words.

The concrete floor of the deck has a compass inlaid in it, in the shape of the state of NC, which is really cool, but so freakin' big, I couldn't get it all in a pic. But I'm sure you'll get the idea, anyway. If you will look on the left side of the map, you can see a little dark circle. I saw it too, and wondered if it was another survey pin, like the one I had found on top of Grandfather Mtn. To my delight, it was, so I took a pic of that, too! That made me think that maybe there's one on top of Roan Mtn. that I haven't seen yet...maybe on Roan High Knob, which is my next big adventure....and I can start 'collecting' these pins. What a cool thought! Anyway...

There is an iron railing all the way around the deck, and along this railing they have posted sketches of the mountain line, and named the summits that you see, so you can tell what you're looking at. I won't post all the pics I took of the view, because there are just too many, and the pics don't do the view any favors, anyway, but I will post two of note:

The first is a pic of Roan Mtn., which lay slightly to the NE. It will be the second peak from the right, in the very back. It looks shorter than the ones in front, only by virtue of the fact that it's actually a great deal farther away than the others. It's also a very humbling experience seeing that, and knowing that I have stood there. Not on the summit yet...but I will. And soon.

The second is a pic of Grandfather Mtn., which was more due north. This one is harder to see, but it's pretty much just above the little white spot in the dead center of the picture, off in the distance. You can get a good sense of just how high I was by looking at the clouds. I was almost dead level with the bottom of them, and that was a very eerie sensation, I can tell you.

I spent quite a bit of time up there before I left. It was very windy...there is a weather station up there, too, and you can see the readings in the museum...and unbelievably cold. Down at the base, the temperature was in the 80's that day, but at the summit...a chilly 50 degrees. Quite a difference, and it had me wishing for a jacket. Apparently, that's quite the norm up there, so if you should ever decide to go (which I highly recommend), bring a jacket just in case. You'll be verra glad you did.

Finally, it was time to go. After the requisite spin through the museum and gift shop, I made my final stop of the day at the snack bar, where I begged the nice ranger behind the counter for his largest cup of coffee. Alas, the largest was a small, but it got me down the mountain... :)

Heading back north on the Blue Ridge Parkway, I was finally able to relax and enjoy the views. It truly was a spectacularly beautiful day, very much different than the last time I was on it during a heavy downpour, and I stopped at one of the many overlooks to get a shot of the view. The Parkway is truly a road to be experienced, but it can get a little taxing to do it often, because it is very limited access, and the 'exits' can be 30 or 40 miles apart. But well worth doing, at least once. These pics really don't do it justice in the least, but you can maybe get a small idea, anyway. For the most part, you will be traversing the side of a mountain, which will be on one side, with a spectacular view on the other...with an occasional tunnel or two thrown in for good measure.

I cannot even begin to explain the exhilaration of standing atop the world. There is nothing that even comes close to it. Alan told me once about a time when he lived in AK and some of his buddies took him snowmobiling. They wound up on a ridge, and when they had come to a stop, one of the guys motioned to him to look around. He did....to a world of white, where he could see whole mountain ranges spread out in the distance, and the curvature of the earth was displayed in all its grand magnificence. I thought I understood. I thought I did. Until now.

Brings to mind a line of a favorite quote from Drums of Autumn, by Diana Gabaldon: "Now I stood with him again upon the summit of life, and could not contemplate descent."

Oh, to have that feeling with Alan by my side....and I will, soon. Believe it.