Great Falls rocks! (literally)

Ahhh, Memorial Day Weekend, the unofficial start of Summer, 3 glorious days free from school and work, when families everywhere take some time to doze in a hammock, splash in a pool, eat barbequed...stuff. And how does Team WestEnders choose to spend their steamy, sunny Memorial Day Monday? Ooh, I know: let's run around in the woods, and climb on some big honkin' rocks!

Today's jaunt--Great Falls--has actually been on my list of Potential Cool Activities (yes, this actually exists) for quite a while, but we just hadn't gotten around to it yet. In preparation, I did some research (naturally) to uncover vital facts that every intrepid explorer needs...you know, things such as "where it's located" and "what to do there." I knew that Great Falls lies on the Potomac River, with access from both the Maryland and the Virginia side. Add to that some printed directions, a description, and a Trail Map, and I felt fully equipped to launch our expedition--um, "Family Hike". As I skimmed the material, however, I noticed that the path we'd selected to attempt, the Billy Goat Trail, merited its own warning statement. Hmm, let's see, it says here "very physically demanding". Oh, pshaw--we're strong! We're fit! We laugh in the face of your cautionary words! In fact, we thrive on danger and live for the excitement of a challenging trek through forests and over boulders! Now stand aside and let us get on with it! (Believe it or not, author's embellishment notwithstanding, that's more or less the tone and content of the boys' response when I shared the Park Service information...)

So we (and by that I mean "Mom") packed snacks and drinks and bug spray and sunscreen and tissues and camera...and a bunch of other necessary items...and we made our way to the park. The Maryland portion actually is situated within the C&O Canal National Historical Park, which means you initially set foot on a wide, sandy, smooth towpath and gaze upon gently cascading water as it flows in an organized, controlled fashion through the locks. Eventually you meander toward the entrance to the wooded section. When you arrive at the head of the Billy Goat Trail, there's a friendly volunteer Ranger, and a large, serious-looking sign...which starts off by telling you that this hike is one of the most difficult...in the East. Well, now...that seems...somewhat sobering. Below that, it advises you to allow "up to 4 hours." Um...definitely beginning to experience some doubts, here. Then it finishes strongly by stating that due to a 40-foot rock face that you will encounter during the hike, "if you are afraid of heights, this might not be the place for you." Uhhhh ohhhh. I suddenly revised my earlier "no fear" stance and adopted a more prudent "we'll see" attitude....

In the early going, we managed the multitude of large rock chunks sticking out of the dirt by simply stepping over and around them. No problem, easy so far! Then we came to a section of the path where the only way to continue...was over some ginormous hunks of--I don't know, toppled mountains? The thing I found hilarious (and by "hilarious" I mean "are you freakin' kidding me with this?") was that the trail markers (those painted rectangles that show up periodically on trees, reassuring you that you're still going the right way) appeared on the boulders. Yep, some Park Service employee painted those suckers on, just so you'd know that in order to progress forward, you'd be required to scramble over. Okay, I've got this...hands and feet all reaching and stretching and gripping...and at times butt-scooting...but it's all good. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, actually, having navigated that little (or actually not so little) bump in the road. Moving on!

And then, we came face to face with the Cliffs of Insanity (and tragically, no Fezzik to carry me up). Yep, they were not exaggerating about the daunting tower of sandstone squarely blocking...pretty much the entire landscape...preventing me from proceeding any further. Because I took one look up up UP and reached an instantaneous, irrevocable "no thank you" conclusion. Unhappiness with heights, terror of slipping, my weak left ankle--pick one, and it was enough to dissuade me from being a crazy climbing fool...like Husband and children. Sigh. Monkey boys and their Dad clambered right on up there without a backward glance. At least they waved to their lily-livered mother (I mean "one who wisely recognizes and accepts her limitations") when they safely reached the top. (Ironically, while they were busy with the rocks, I overheard another hiker talking about the fact that there are actually three Billy Goat Trails...of which the other two are significantly easier. Rats!) After the family made their way back down, we figured it was time to turn back, as we deemed ourselves sufficiently hot, sweaty, and tired to have earned our lunch.(You knew it all had to circle back to "food" somehow, right?)

The male members of our tribe are already talking about returning in the Fall, when it's cooler, and finishing the entire length of the trail as a boy-bonding endeavor. And I say "go for it"...because outside the woods, I already know there's a delightful canal path that I can stroll--or bike--for mile after peaceful, non-strenuous mile, as long as I want...and meet them back at the car for a nice picnic when everyone's had their fill of preferred adventure!