I took another look at the Facebook cabin deal and reached for the phone. I called Anchor. My sweet husband loves me enough to be fool hearted right along with me. He laughed and agreed so I called to make the reservation.
I had just signed us up to go camping in the mountains at Oconee State Park. Our family could not safely go tent camping but cabin camping just might be possible. Oconee is about three hours from us and is nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. The park was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps decades ago as a vacation retreat. It was hoped that it would draw tired souls to the hills that would provide respite and happiness to busy families. That was my hope too.
We were a group of very unlikely campers. Anchor and I checked the children in the back of our overpacked minivan. Ben was listening to his Veggie Tale music, Little Legs and Thoreau were talking together in the back seat and Wetfoot was doing something on her iPod. Here we go, I thought, suddenly realizing the absurdity of offering ourselves…our whole selves complete with autism, ADHD, and teen angst, a mixture of ages and stages… to the mercy of the mountains.
The children did well on our journey up. The Ultimate Outsider travels we had already made had given them good training. We made it to Walhalla and then had to pass out the gum to battle popping ears. As we passed curve after curve in our ascent up the mountain, I heard poor Wetfoot having a conversation with her stomach which was unaccustomed to the procession of upward sharp mountain turns. Back and forth and around the mountain again and again and again….her stomach was used to the relatively straight ways of the suburbs. We made it to the park and then to the cabin before anyone lost the battle of the tummy.
By the time we arrived, night had come. Through the darkness, we were enveloped by the spirit of the place. We were greeted by a log cabin rich in warmth and welcome. It was framed beautifully by a lake loud with the calls of frogs and crickets and an immense dark night sky bursting with a million tiny twinkles. Constellations reached out to us and waved greetings. All was beautiful. All was still…except for the frogs that were bursting out in a welcoming overture.
We tumbled out of the van and hurried into the cabin. A full kitchen, a fireplace, two bedrooms, a bath, a living room/den with a pull out couch, a large screened porch, board games, log walls, hardwood floors…it was simple but complete. The place was so beautiful that it was the next morning before the children noticed our deceit. Beauty was given for a price. We were unconnected in the woods. There was no wireless, no cell coverage, no TV and not even a land line phone. We were disconnected and would be for the remainder of the long weekend. The poor children were shocked silent. To be fair, they are of a generation unaccustomed to a view void of screen. Questions flew out of their young eyes. What will we do? Where can we go to check texts? Do you all even love us anymore? What are you punishing us for?
Anchor and I reassured our brood of our love and then took them for a walk around the lake shore. Anchor gathered poles, worms, hooks and children and went fishing or more appropriately line untangling with them. We spent the weekend fishing, hiking, discovering waterfalls, drinking soda from glass bottles at the ranger station/gift shop, making s’mores, cooking out, reading Peter Pan by firelight, square dancing with other vacationers, clapping along to a bluegrass band, rowing the lake in a Jon boat, gazing at the stars, discovering that the loudest of the frogs were no bigger than a thumbprint….and the children loved it.
Oconee as a place breathes love and family. It was created by men who hoped families would find restoration here. You can feel the love of those who created the place and those who tend it as you breathe in the mountain air. Oconee is a place of freedom. It offered us all the emancipation of the mountain in a way that we could embrace. The four walls of the CCC cabin held our family in safety and prevented our son from wandering away in the middle of the night without our knowledge. The cabin allowed us to access the park’s offerings despite the challenges of Ben’s autism.
The days passed and it was time to leave. A family of geese had come to visit every morning and they were here again now to see us off. How fitting. The park that had so welcomed us into itself would not let us leave without a proper send off.
The children were sad to leave but we promised we would be back. We had enjoyed so many South Carolina State Parks but Oconee had accepted us in a new way. We were welcomed completely and unreservedly to stay the night, and the weekend. Oconee showed us that we could be campers.
Ben bestowed his own blessing on the park. He has so very few words. The South Carolina Park motto, “Come Out and Play” had become a part of his vocabulary a few weeks earlier. He would sometimes say “Hiking” or “Beach”. To date though, only one named park has made its mark as much into Ben’s heart as to forever stamp its name upon his vocabulary. “Oconee”, he says with a smile and an emphasis on the last syllable. The first time he said “Oconee”, I was so surprised that I could barely sputter “Did you like Oconee?” To which he grinned a goofy teen age smile and said, “That was fun.” Higher praise cannot be given.
No comments:
Post a Comment