We took our motley Wonegan lot hiking on Snake Mountain in Bridport on Tuesday.
Dan and I had been on vacation for almost a week before the rain stopped and it was cool enough outside to even consider climbing anything steeper than our driveway. The weather on Tuesday fit the bill perfectly. The day dawned clear and deliciously cool with a brisk, decidedly autumn-like wind prevailing.
Being the good parents we are, we told the grumbling children to put on their sunscreen "because," we knowingly opined, "you can get a blistering sunburn even when it's cool!" We packed a backpack with enough water for a stay in Death Valley, pounds and pounds of nuts, granola bars and fruit leathers, and sweatshirts to stave off the chilly wind that would inevitably be scouring the summit.
Right. Ready to go.
We packed everyone into the two cars (we're still looking for a car large enough to fit all 6 of us) and made our way down Route 7, through some infuriating construction delays, past our wedding-venue-to-be, through the town where Aunt Hannah and Uncle Mike live, and up a charming dirt road to the trail head.
He looked at me with desperation in his eyes and said, "Do you think we should go back to the car and put on some bug spray?"
We pulled on our sweatshirts, ate our granola bars, scratched our mosquito bites, gushed over the view of Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks, and discussed how very dead we would be if we fell off the mountain.
Everyone was in high spirits as we headed back down the river to our cars. We looked at colorful fungus, caught a couple of frogs and a little orange newt, and enjoyed one another's company.
Despite the mosquitoes, it was a lovely, lovely day and reminded me of how much I love being in the woods.
Only next time, I'll remember the DEET.
PS. Once we got home, Dan managed to salvage Hallie's new sneakers with the garden hose and some careful scrubbing.
Sophie's sneakers, on the other hand, went directly into the garbage.