Halfway between here and there.

When Jen and I were seriously dating, one of the first questions was where do you hope to live someday?  We had talked about putting down roots somewhere and being a part of a neighborhood and community and playing a part in our town.  (That's what sappy romantics talk about, right?)  It's kind of a big thing to think about.  I remember thinking about where I would live when I was a kid, very superficially of course, and thought that Colorado was pretty great.  Most of that impression, I'm sure, came from driving out west and being astounded by the mountain scenes, because I don't know that I had any other exposure to Colorado besides that.  

I recognize that there are lots of people that don't have any reason to leave the town they grew up in.  This week, out of sheer curiosity, I googled for one of my friends Larry from 4th grade.  What do you know, he still lives at the same address I would bicycle to over 20 years ago when I wanted to go skip rocks with him.  (With his parents, still, perhaps?)  Then I also was trying to reach out to a local who gave me the wrong address, and I knocked on a door and asked if the guy knew Roger, and he said "I've lived on this street all my life, I know everyone here, and there is no Roger."  Interesting, eh?  ALL MY LIFE!  Maybe the more interesting claim is "...I know everyone here...", but that's a blog of a different color.

That's very different that our admirable friend, Bridget, who I admire greatly as she epitomizes world traveler in my mind.  I'm content to not be moving hither and thither, though I do like to see new scenes.  Family trips are nice enough, for now.

So anyway, somehow, we decided that boundaries were good, but so is proximity.  I was raised in a family where grandparents were 1.5 hours away at the closest, and a few days drive at the farthest.  Jen was raised in a family with grandparents across town at closest, and a couple towns over at farthest.  We had different degrees of involvement with our grandparents, but in both our cases, the connection was integral to our formative years.  Jen's mother was largely single-parenting, so she'd spend a considerable amount of after-school time with her mother's parents.  In my case, we'd travel to Columbia for all (most?) of the major holidays.  So we designed our ideal case:  Close enough to drive, but far enough that our parents would have to call first. :)  Hehe.  We also imposed a different-stake guideline, so our friends across the church region wouldn't be tempted to spread gossip to our folks.

Here's approximately what that map would look like.  Purple is too close, red is the ideal zone.

Incidentally, I did interview with a couple of companies in Denver, but neither of them felt quite right.  I had two friends from college accept jobs at my current place of employ, so was glad to make a trip to Boston to see how the fit was.  I was well received, and they were desperate for a few more BYU alums ("We're never disappointed in the BYU guys...").

So now, where does that put us?  We're about halfway between here (Jen's parents and maternal grandparents, 2 hrs north)

And there (Jen's paternal grandparents, 2 hrs south).

So that makes us a convenient stopping through spot! 

In the end, it's nice to be "on the beaten path" to family, and nice to have a little separation too, as we like to develop our own family holiday traditions at home here.

It takes a little more effort to get to TN, but it can be accomplished in a half-day without too much headache (again, probably worth a blog post!).

I wouldn't be disappointed if we ended up being here for a while, and I'm quite cozy with the idea of being a New Englander.  The fact is, I kind of feel settled down already, as I've checked out the town historical society DVDs from the library and know my way around town better than many of the other locals.  Isn't that when you know you've Arrived?

The A.T. is where it's AT.

For my first post of the month, I thought I'd stream some consciousness your way.

I had never heard the term "Bucket List" until last year.  I'd never considered enumerating all the things I want to do during my lifetime (most people would probably find my list relatively mundane, anyway).  I still have never sat down to do that exercise.  BUT...  I have had times of my life where I thought to myself, "I really want to ________ at some point."  I remember having one of those bucket-list type moments when I was a teenager and was the coordinator for our troop High Adventure.

In 1996, I wanted to do some hiking, so I led out on the planning of a High Adventure for Troop 336.  I surveyed websites (because hotbot and altavista could get results!) for decent week-long hikes, decided on a stretch in the Nantahala National Forest in North Carolina, and ordered some maps.  Planning a hike doesn't really take that much more planning than picking a stretch of trail and arranging for transportation if you're 15.  (I think we did Sassafras Gap to Wesser, NC.)  Comforts of life are meaningless if you have a deck of cards and a tent.

Here's the posse of 5 adults and 9 boys.  In the end 3 adults and  7 boys made it the full 65 miles.

Dad took the week off to spend with Ben and me, and we made it the whole way together.  The last day or two started to wear on Dad's knee, and I remember him strapping some duct tape around under his knee-cap to help on the descents.  There was a gratifyingly frigid river at the end of the week (Nantahala River).

1996 was a great year for the teal shorts.

Somewhere around this picture, we ran into some thru-hikers, who were in it for the long-haul.  Can you imagine 6 months on the trail?  April to October, perhaps.  I hadn't really considered that people would do the whole trail, but I guess if it could be done, people would want to do it.

Expansive views of 4K and 5K mountains.

There's no doubt the views were good, and the air was refreshing.

Smoky Mountains.

But can you imagine seeing the back side of your hiking buddy for a whole summer?

Dad and his vintage backpack, with Ben a few steps ahead.

So then, earlier this summer (back to 2011), my cousin Joy and her husband Jason came to visit us in MA, and Jason raved about A Walk in the Woods, by Bill Bryson, describing a writer's take on through-hiking the A.T..  Jen ordered it for the Kindle, and we read it together.  The book is a clever blend of history, humor, and a perspective looking at the quirky folks who actually make the A.T. their home (for several months, at least).  It's an interesting read, and got me thinking again about that tugging idea in the back of my head that when I retire, I'd like to take a summer to traverse from Springer Mountain, Georgia to Mount Katahdin, Maine.  I could join that elite group of weirdos who set out to take millions of steps somewhat mechanically to make their bodies conquer 2000 miles of undulation.

Later this summer, as I was on my way to meet up with the troop for the last couple of days of their High Adventure canoeing in northern New Hampshire, I had some extra time to stop and take some pictures on a scenic road, and what did I behold but a map of the region revealing that the A.T. cut right through there!  It was at Grafton Notch scenic byway that I took my chance.  

A roadside tourist placard that I saw indicated that if I backtracked just a few miles, I'd meet up at a trailhead to go up Old Speck.  At the trailhead, I saw that the Eyebrow Loop was only a couple of miles long, and I had enough time to do a bit of hiking before meeting the boys at Errol, NH.  (Had I read the  review in the above link before-hand, I might have tried something different!  ...advanced ascent with ladders and steel rungs...)  

It was these 2.2 miles that I started to think that maybe doing a thousand of these one-hour trips with gear on my back is a bit more than I could handle.  

What I expected.

What I got.

Rungs!  Oh, for heaven's sake.  Step, step, step.  Take a break.  Step, step step.  Take a break.

One of the rewards after the ascent.  Do you see the parking lot down there?  I'm the hiker who drove a minivan to the parking lot.

Our troop hasn't done any serious hiking in the 5 years we've lived here.  I can't think of any considerable hiking that I've done in over a decade.  Long walks, yes.  Several miles here and there for Geocaching, yes. Hiking, not much.

So I'll have to re-appraise the merits of thru-hiking the A.T.  However, I think this adds to my opinion that a bucket list is so intangible and variable (subject to whims, perhaps?) that perhaps the best way to meet your dreams is to do neat things all along your way.  Otherwise, can a bucket list be realized in anything but an idealized world?  Life happens.  With a wife and kids, there are other factors on the table now that weren't considered half my life ago.  I reckon that LIFE can be an adventure every day if you take Old Speck by the horns and do something.  Forget the list.  Here's to taking something you want to do and just doing it.  Or at least 3% of it.

Do you agree?  Or do I need a bucket list as a guiding document for my adventures?