We got a late start heading out there and arrived closer to 2:30pm to one of Wayde's many houses where he had homemade chicken soup waiting for us. Wayde lives simply, rustic. His house is small - three single rooms piled one on top of each other on a steep hillside, what used to be used as an-ice house but converted a few decades ago to a rental 'home'. Wayde's lived there since his early 20's, just up the hill from the house he was born in (upper left-hand windows if you drive by) which his mom still lives in. When we arrived, Gabe scampered off to help a neighbor split wood, Rose commenced to chasing the chickens around the yard and Isabelle, a preteen through and through, refused to leave the car. She put on the Smashmouth CD and took a nap in the backseat. Its always hard for the kids the first hour at Wayde's, no TV, no bright plastic kid toys, mostly just the rustic indoors or the great outdoors. It was sunny, though cool, when we headed up to the cabin around 3:00pm.
The cabin is near the top of one of those classic Connecticut mountains, steep, studded with trees and old mining/logging roads. I thought the adventure of the day was going to be riding in the back of Wayde's truck, Harry holding tight to Gabe, me to Rose, whipping along at 50 miles and hour up the steep wide roads to the cabin. (Isabelle got to ride in the truck cab with Wayde since, unbeknownst to her, we were all hiking back down and I wanted to foster some goodwill before that time.) The driveway is a 3/4 mile long trail, passable by vehicle about half the year (snow, ice and mud claiming the rest of the days). We got halfway in, sliding a few too many of the turns for my comfort, before I insisted that we walk the rest of the way. As we jumped out of the truck I noticed, with a mom sigh, that I was the only one wearing the hats, gloves, boots, etc. that we brought for the hike. The rest was in the back of my car in Wayde's driveway. Wayde had loafers, Harry, Gabe and Rose had sneakers (no socks for Rose either), Isabelle had her stylish but tractionless Uggs. The slipping, sliding and horsing around on the ice packed trail began immediately, the sense of adventure having set in on the ride up. The wind and the kids laughter were the only sounds one could hear on Wayde's side of the mountain, a fact he's very happy about.
We got to the cabin within ten minutes with only one seriously bruised knee (Isabelle's). The cabin, even more remote, rustic and devoid of manufactured entertainment, the kids started exploring. There were the many entrances to go in an out of. The loft bed perched twelve feet above the kitchen/living room area took Gabe and Rose a long time to get bored of. The running water coming from an ancient bright red hand pump thrilled them. Isabelle feigned disinterest in the National Geographic library that skipped its way back to before I was born, October 1965 being the oldest issue I could find. One the back cover, an advertisement for the 'new and improved' 4-flash camera flash cubes! Wayde didn't remember them at all (such a kid) but my first camera had them. Eventually she settled into a book on Feng Shuei. Wayde made hot chocolate from real chocolate shavings on the gas stove, not so rustic afterall, to which he and I added Maker's Mark. Less than an hour puttering around there, with the sun sinking low, I asked Wayde if we should still hike out, like, how long would it take since it was just past four and the sun would be gone soon. He paused, smiled and said "Uhmmn, 20 minutes, maybe a bit longer..." It was a lie. We both knew it, but I figured even a 45 minute hike would still get us back to his house before dark and it was all downhill anyway. (intro foreshadowing music)
Gabe kept up with Wayde, leading the way through the woods, to a trail I assumed. Harry and Isabelle trailed, Isabelle nursing her bruised knee for all the attention is was getting her. I had to hold tight to Rose's hand since the cross country nature was particularly challenging for such small legs, stepping over branches and fallen logs, hopping from rock to rock. She was also the least convinced that the hike was a good idea, that we wouldn't get lost or run into bears. My constant reassurance only helped a bit. Wayde and Gabe got far enough ahead that cresting the next rise, I didn't see a sign of them. I stopped and gave a four-finger whistle to get their attention and maybe a response. After the third whistle (it was really inobvious which way they headed) the reply came from somewhere close by but out of sight, three more whistles and replies as I moved forward trying to locate the direction, only to find them 50 feet to my right hiding behind a rock and giggling wildly. Yeah, yeah, okay.
Isabelle was smiling and laughing now, her knee forgotten. But the way was getting pretty steep, what snow was left was mostly packed ice and getting more plentiful as the grade steepened. We were still, 30 min later just skirting around the top, not heading down. Harry suggested heading down and Wayde thought we could maybe pick up the trail he had been heading for by heading down and the right. Rose was tired, cold, feet frozen and slipping often. To forestall a breakdown, I offered her a piggyback until we got to level ground. (foreshadowing music resuming briefly here)
As we began to pick our way down the hill, heavily using low branches and saplings for balance, it got steeper and steeper. The hiking slowed to carefully considered falls from one tree to the next. Isabelle and Gabe, after having slipped so often, found it easier to slide down on their bottoms. Harry kept positioning himself below them to catch any unforeseen slides which increased in frequency. Wayde kept saying 'follow me', 'over here's okay' and 'this looks pretty good' then suddenly disappearing from sight as his feet gave way beneath him, reappearing wide-eyed and laughing. With Rose on my back I was extra careful but didn't want to go too slow because it was now more than an hour after we left the cabin and I knew we had much further to go. Eventually even I had to slide down on my bottom. And once, (alarming shrill music) unexpectedly taking the sapling I had trusted to hold us with me, was saved by Wayde grabbing the collar of my coat as Rose and I slid by the tree we had been aiming for. I'd say we spent a good 30 minutes picking our way down the hill in thus fashion; 9/10ths adrenaline but saved from the fear of the reality of it by the need to be absolutely focused, the constant slapstick falls and the kids' laughter.(playful music)
Eventually we found a popular deer trail to follow which had Gabe warning "Poop!" about every 4-10 feet. 20 minutes on this brought us by a beautiful ice-encrusted powerful waterfall, 10-feet across, about four cascading 10-15 foot drops. We kept our distance because of the ice but as our energy was flagging, the powerful force of the water on the rocks gave some back. Soon we saw the back of a house and aimed for it and its driveway. Wayde counseled Gabe "If someone comes out of the house shouting 'No trespassers!', pretend you're a deer. If they have a gun, don't pretend you're a deer."
When we hit the road, finally, some 90 min after we set out, cars were just putting on their headlights. Only a mile to go, half of it uphill. Rose was 'shimmering' so much we put an extra coat on her and didn't insist she walk. It was only two hours of packing a six year old on my back, but I was thinking I'd probably do okay as a Sherpa. (pastoral music fading in and out interspersed with quiet conversation about the dark houses and empty factories we're passing by along the banks of the Housatonic)
Entering the Wayde's house at last around 6:30pm, its comforts seemed lavish. Rose got three successively warmer foot baths to stop the shimmering, Isabelle surfed the web on a laptop at the kitchen table, Wayde and Harry cracked a bottle of wine and I ladled out hot soup for everybody. Seeing my family tired but happy, huddled around that tiny kitchen table eating homemade soup and talking over one another with their own versions of the hike, I was happy for it all although my arms ached almost too much to hold my steaming soup-bowl. I hope it sticks in their memory for all time as it will mine. (sentimental reverie fading out)
