Woodland Warrior

I've had one of the best weekends of my life and never entered a bar or touched my cell phone. The Social Director was temporarily out of commission--and it was fantastic.

My parents are divorced. As a result, I spend Thanksgiving with my mom in North Carolina and always feel a tad guilty about not seeing my dad. So we've started a tradition where several weeks before Thanksgiving, we ditch civilization and head for the hills for 48 hours of solid father/daughter bonding time.

Here's my cute Pops as we're starting out. He's super excited to be doing "boy things" with his only progeny:
My dad raised me to be a hardcore camper. We don't do piddly "drive your truck to the campsite and unload" camping. With him, you have to carry everything you need on your back. Which made our 10 mile trek feel more like 30. But it's honestly more fun that way...because you feel like you've actually accomplished something.
You definitely know you're in East Tennessee when...
...you stumble across an old moonshine still during your hike up the mountain. We both died laughing at the blatantly-realized stereotype (and half wished that it'd been operational).

Once we reached our destination and set up camp, we threw some steaks on the fire and settled in for the cold night. It wasn't long before my dad pulled out a Nalgene bottle of whiskey and we got to telling stories. He told me about all the bad stuff he did as a kid and I added my own "when I was 15, I used to take the car out for illegal joyrides and haven't told you until now" kind of tales.

Eventually our talk turned to politics, relationships and basic life observations. After half of the bottle disappeared, we made a pact. If the GOP wins the White House again in 2008, we're packing up and heading for some tiny Caribbean island to open a pottery/furniture workshop and live like kings. Mark our drunken words.

The next morning (after surviving the 36 degree night), we decided to nurse our hangovers with fresh air and a day hike to a little-known observation point. About halfway there, I honestly thought I was going to die...but somehow found the stamina to trek on. And was so glad I did:
The incredible bird's-eye view of the Tennessee River Gorge was spectacular. A picture definitely can't do it justice. As I stood there in awe, I couldn't help but feel grateful. For this beautiful world, for my amazing father, and for the instant clarity that my problems are insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
Overall, the trip was a monsterous success. We got sore muscles and dirty clothes, but we also got closer than ever before.

And this was just small time. Thanksgiving Trek 2K7 might land us in Colorado or Northern California. After that? Who knows. As long as we're together with a little Jack Daniels, it's sure to be a great time.