|that was 6 miles up a mountain by the way|
We have never been to NH, and I will just start off by saying it is a beautifully magnificent breathtaking place. Breathtaking might be the operative word for me as I have exercised more in these last 2 days than I have all damn year.
We spent a lovely sunny day at the mine, which was at the top of a gorgeous mountain. Usually when my husband and son go on their adventures, I don't go. I was feeling extra feisty this trip though and I tagged along on everything. It was actually a lot of fun.
The next day, we went here.
|that was just a small smattering of the stairs I would be going up and down|
My first thought was 'wow, it's really pretty here' and my second thought was 'holy shit, I am going to die walking up those steps'. It was a trail throughout this amazing gorge, with caves you could go through (or not go through as in my case). I was thrilled to see my anxious child crawling on his stomach through these tiny little tight spaces. We had a blast and thankfully I did not die. I was also really glad I went along. That was something I was glad I did not miss.
So we were 2 for 2. Day 3 involved a trip to some obscure rock shop that my son somehow found out about. We drove over an hour to get there and included in this days festivities were a trip to a place called "Moat Mountain" where according to my rockhounding child, there was smoky quartz in them there hills ripe for the picking. The rock shop was able to give us directions and we were told that there was a 1 mile hike up a mountain bike trail to get to the mining spot. Already I started feeling trepidation. I probably should have listening to my gut instinct then and there, but honestly, I was still riding that buzz of 2 great days.
We finally arrived at the spot. It was just a little side of the road thing, with a few cars. We saw some dude on a bike and asked him if it was a hard trail. Well, apparently in NH, a 'hard trail' must be climbing mount everest, because this guy said it was easy. Ok, so we go. Buckets and hammers and waters in hand. Did I mention that I had my skechers go walks on and I was carrying all my crap in a knock off louis vuitton never full? I even brought a library book with me because I figured I would find a nice boulder to park my butt on and relax while the boys found me sparkly gems.
We embarked on our journey. At this point it was fairly late in the day. The trail started off just fine. We even got to see this:
|beavers were here|
|Yeah, it still looked pretty to me at that point.|
At about the 45 minute mark, we started to realize that things were not going the way they should. There was no mining area in sight and this up and down hill business was getting really old. We were not sure if the trail would go in a circle, and we were not sure if we should keep going or turn around. It was like we had so much invested in this stupid hike, we did not want to just turn around. I was secretly hoping I would just go up one more hill and see the my car waiting for me. We debated what to do, and we decided to give it a few more minutes. We, meaning not me decided that. I wanted to leave. We finally got to a point where we faced the reality that we were not going to be finding the mine and that we had no idea if this dumb ass trail was going in a circle. Turning back was our option. My husband decided that he was going to find some smoky quartz dammit. Come hell or high water. So, I planted myself on a mossy spot and sat there listening to them hack away at rocks they most certainly should not have been hacking away at. While sitting there, ignoring the throbbing pain in my foot, I imagined all kinds of lovely scenarios. most of them involving getting eaten by a bear. It was starting to get less sunny and I kept calling to my husband to go. "In a second" he kept saying. Then, my son started crying that he had to go to the bathroom. Numero Dos. So, in a firmer voice, I called "WE ARE LEAVING NOW". Me, not being much of a hiker, was starting to get a slight panic attack. My foot was hurting and my son was having a bathroom emergency. And my biggest fear was it getting dark before we could get back to the car, and maybe we were in some endless loop and we would never find the car and we would be forced to eat wild berries and leaves and huddle in a pile to keep warm and eventually wither away and die with no one ever even knowing where the hell we were.
I tried to focus on just walking. Putting one mangled foot in front of the other and trudging up and down the path. My poor son was whimpering and my husband kept yelling at him to go take a dump in the woods. I in turn yelled at him to stop saying that and to just pick up the damn pace. Eventually we came back to the sweet,sweet beaver dam which signaled the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel for us. It was something we recognized, that was a good sign. Then up in the distance, 4 long eternal miles later, we saw the stupid evil jerk face, asshole sign that pointed us in the wrong direction.
I was never, and I mean never so happy to see my car. My husband at this point, I think is slightly disappointed in his wife and child's waning sense of adventure, but I felt zero guilt about that. We zoomed back down the mountain, and found the nearest gas station for my son. By that point, my foot was unwalkable. I think I willed myself not to feel as much pain as I was really in, so that I could get myself out of there. I got back to the cabin, iced it and took an aspirin and today, I am waiting on the results of my foot X-ray. It's probably a sprain, but I am seriously convinced that my husband and son are trying to run me ragged with their shenanigans. Next time, I am going to make a detour to the nearest spa. They can go do whatever they want.