the canal

"the beauty and charm of the wilderness are his for the asking, for the edges of the wilderness lie close beside the beaten roads of the present travel."  - theodore roosevelt

there are dozens of stories i could tell about the c&o canal. it is where - as andy would put it - i cut my teeth on the outdoors. as children, we spent many summer nights there, camping with my father and our family dog, kodiak. sometimes we'd load up the canoe, the back end heavy from the weight of a cooler filler with enough hot dogs, dr. peppers, and reese's cups to last us a week. other times, we'd strap our tightly rolled sleeping bags onto the front of our bikes and fit whatever else we could into backpacks. one of our first trips wasn't long after i learned to ride a bike and my father must have had to stop a maddening amount of times for claudin and i, who were both still a bit wobbly on wheels. he'd inevitably pull ahead - no doubt anxious to get to our camp site - when a faint cry would echo in the woods as one of us swerved off the tow path into bush (or as i almost did, right into the potomac river). it's a wonder he ever ventured to take us out again, but he did. year after year. and if we were frustrating trail buddies, he never let on.

even when we grew out of camping trips with papi and other interests (boys!) took over the desire to spend summer nights around a bonfire telling stories and eating our weights worth in reese's, the canal always held a special place in my heart. i'm sure it was those trips with my father - that seemed like great adventures into the wilderness - that gave me an appreciation for the natural world.

introducing children to the outdoors is both unusually simple and surprisingly complicated. take a child outside and most likely you will have bought yourself hours while they explore everything from the blue sky to the ants crawling in and out of their sandy mounds. plan a more "structured" excursion with children and you've added a humbling element to the mix.

we took august over to the canal this weekend with the intention of doing some fishing. andy, who comes from a family of anglers and is one of the most devoted outdoorsman i know, has been excited for this day ever since we found out i was pregnant with a boy. i was proud of my husband though because when august showed more interest in throwing rocks into the canal than he did casting a line into it, andy never let on to any disappointment. it was just like years before, with my dad and his unsteady twins.

as we walked back to the car with august perched on top of andy's shoulders and all of us searching for turtles in the water, i thought about how different my vision was from the morning we actually had. and while i wouldn't really call it a successful day of fishing, ask any one of us, and we'd all say that it was a win.

andy doesn't usually read blogs, but when he does stalking the seam is his go to and for those of you who are interested in taking your little ones outdoors, here are some great tips

C&O Canal

 

The C&O Canal runs along the Potomac River and extends from Washington DC to western Maryland.  The house I grew up in was three miles from the nearest inlet and my father took advantage of that proximity. There weren't many days in my life that I can remember when he wasn't out running on that towpath. Each morning, he dutifully got up and did his run. The image of my dad heading out for his run is still so vivid; dressed in a muddy old pair of shoes, a singlet, split shorts, and a bandanna rolled around his forehead. Upon his return we'd get the full report on what "critters" he saw: two turtles, a family of geese, and one crane. Or, in the summer, we'd get his take on the heat index. He loved to measure the humidity by how many time he could ring the sweat out of his soaked headband. A 5 to 8 "ringer" was average, but if he got in the double digits and you can bet the local news was calling it a Code Red day, advising people to stay indoors and out of the heat. Naturally, this grossed me out, but I'm pretty sure my dad viewed it as an indicator of just how hard core he was and had no shame in his sweat reports.

My dad became a fixture on those sections of the canal on account of his consistency. He had his contingent of "regulars" that knew him by name; they shared those quiet mornings in solidarity. They usually encountered each other on the path so there wasn't much conversation exchanged among them besides a quick wave or a breathless "g'morning!" Even those individuals who weren't out on the path with such regularity, I'm sure, would see him and think, "That guy is ALWAYS out here whenever I come!" When he got sick and his absence became apparent I'm sure they all figured out something serious had occurred. By now they surely know he is gone and never to return, but I like to think that every now and again they are reminded of him; the man in the bandanna headband and split running shorts. 
Today was the first time, since before my son was born that I got out for a run on the C&O. That's a big deal to me because, at this time last year, I was training for a marathon and logging loads of miles on the towpath. I got those training runs done in the early morning, squeezing them in before work. And since life is so sweetly curious and full of surprises, it wasn't long before I was one the "regulars", with my own group of people to greet with a nod.  I became the girl who was always out here. After months away I found myself in that familiar place today. Although it was just a light run all these thoughts came back to me during the short jaunt. It'll be some time until I get back into a regular routine like I had then but I smile at the thought that at least for that while, I had continued on in my father's absence - I had carried on after him, running in his footsteps, so to speak. Ah, the circle of life.