July 29, 2014
Been doing some thinking about the adventures Quinn and I have taken for the last three years. During those adventures, we have chased every dang critter that I can imagine. We were within feet of capturing a dinosaur one year. Then, we were inches away, I am sure, of getting our hands on Sasquatch. We had Black Bart in our grips until he turned those cowboy beans against us. I was thinking we could use some extra help … thinking Barrett might be willing to give us a hand. And she said "Yes".
We would kinda be like the three musketeers, except we didn't have those swords or big hats with the ostrich feathers. Instead, I thought we could just get some funny hats and weird glasses to wear. That ought to do it.
Another change I thought about was that we might be "doing" something, rather than "chasing" something every time. Our record of catching the things we were chasing was none too good. Not sure if Quinn would agree with me on that quite yet … but he'll come around.
I also thought I should keep our destination a big secret. Well, that was a mistake. Seems like my musketeer partners, Porthole and Darn Tanyon, are none to keen on being in the dark. I guess I am a little more experienced at spreading my wings without a safety net. But, they'll get the hang of it soon enough to thoroughly scare the pajebbers out of their parents.
I got up early this morning to check on my directions. This would be my first solo flight with the kids in the car for an adventure. I'm not saying certain parent-like people might be scrutinizing my ability to make adult decisions and such. I will say they had furrowed brows when I drove drove away with their kids and were clutching their hearts and tearing at their clothes. Or were they dancing a jig? It is so hard to tell in the rearview mirror.
Let it be said that we packed our gear and flew the coop.
I need to say right out front that my musketeer comrades, Tar Dandelion and Porpoise, are not exactly morning people. Getting them moving in the morning is a job to say the least. Add to that, they stayed up late telling secrets to one another so loud that their parents heard them. I realized that if we tried to eat before we left, we would still be there eating right now. The decision… breakfast on the road. I chose Poppa's Breakfast Nook in Spartanburg, open 24-hours a day. Okay, I did think it might be one of those truck stop kinda places where you eat horrible food and say "eat where the truckers go" when you really know that truckers don't know squat about good food. And I know what you were just thinking. The answer is "No", I did not think it was one of those other kinda truck stops that I don't know nothing about no how, even if the coffee is good there.
I am going to take a little, what you call, diversion here. Not like a court diversion ... more like a detour in the storytelling. By the time we got to the restaurant (in fact, by the time we got in the car), my musketeer buddies, Porky Chops and Darn Companion, had lost their zeal for those hats and glasses. Seems to me they were wondering what other people in that restaurant might think of us coming in there in with that glasses and hat combination … the three of us … the three musketeers. You need to know that "got your back" and "we're right behind you" are two entirely different wordifications. The second, I'm saying, actually means "we left our stuff in the car". I suppose these new-breed kids are more used to worrying about what people that see them think and are all hung up on them gaiters and foxes and polo players all over their clothes where the only thing ever written on my jeans was Husky. You guessed it. I paraded right in that restaurant looking like a lizard in a hat while they paraded after me looking like Tommy Middlefinger and Myley Cyrus with her tongue in her mouth … with no hats or glasses.
Back on the main road again. We checked out the menu in Poppa's and unbelievably everybody found stuff they liked. 
Fact is, my musketeer sidekick, Porterhouse, got the waffles and said they were even better than the ones she had at home last night. Fact is, that waffle at home was Anne's recipe. Fact is, Porterhouse was sitting right next to the chef that cooked her that waffle last night. She is on her own trying to talk her way out of that comment. I'll just keep on whittling on my ten foot pole.
My other sidekick musketeer, Darned Tame Horsehead, ordered scrambled eggs and bacon. Now, I have been knowing him before his eyes ever opened and he let out his first mew and I think his mama might have been considering naming him Bruce to begin with … knowing him all his life that is to say … all seven years. In all that time, I have never seen him eat an egg for breakfast to the best of my rapidly fading recollection. This morning, he practically licked the eggs off the plate. Explain that if you can. 
We get back in the car all gassed up from our diner food and I happen to look in the rearview mirror. Take a guess what musketeers, Portuguese Stew and Darned Socks, are doing. They are sitting there, big as you please, with those hats and glasses on. Excuse me for getting ahead of the horse with the cart, but I got to tell you right now, they ditched them hats and glasses quicker than shuckers at a corn roast as soon as we got to Chimney Rock.
I don't recall, well yesterday comes to mind, but other than that, I don't recall whether I told you that it was hot as blazes for the last few days and the weather cooled off and was absolutely beautiful today. As a result of that, every person in NC that has a wife like mine that looks at the weather channel incessantly, decided to go to Chimney Rock today. To the tune of 15 cars in line ahead of us when we arrived.
Finally, we got our ticket and leaped out of the car to head up Chimney Rock. Maybe I shouldn't have said so much about all those steps to climb. A certain musketeer, I shall not mention his name, got out of the car and before get got to the first stair said, "I want to ride the elevator … I am tired already." Luckily, I was a former counselor and knew exactly what to say … "NO WAY".
Instead, I uncoiled my bullwhip and sent those musketeers scurrying up the steps.
Here is where I endeared myself to the parents. Once a school teacher, always a school teacher. We did some math. They had a counting lesson by counting the number of steps. The lesson stopped when they quit counting at 540 … when I surprised them with more steps to climb to the very top of the mountain. That is when they seemed to lose interest in counting. Perhaps, instinctively they knew to conserve their breath.
I busied myself with a math lesson as well. I counted the number of times a certain musketeer asked me if we could take the elevator down the mountain. I also quit counting at 540. I caved in and said "Yes", but was really against the idea all together since downhill is so easy that you can fall all with way with no effort at all. Lucky for us all, I did not know where the elevator was and missed it when we were getting ice cream to cool off. The result being that we did not take the elevator and ended up walking. I was not-so-secretly glad about the whole thing and only had to suffer being a big fat liar which I already knew.
Anyway, it was not about the walking in the first place … it was about the seeing and we saw some cool stuff.
… like the view of Lake Lure
… and the view from the top of the chimney
… and about being in the Opera Box
… I was too tall to even stand up in the Opera Box
We did do a little extra climbing to get to the rock formation called "The Devil's Head". I took a picture, but can't say for sure which head belonged to the devil.
There was one other spot we just had to see … and it was only a few more steps to climb. It was called, "The Exclamation Point". I am a little disappointed that seven year olds don't know what that is. Seems to me we ought to be teaching them that there is a whole bunch of stuff to be excited about in this world by the time they are seven, and they ought to be putting those exclamation points at the end of most every sentence they write.
There. We had done it. No matter how tired we thought we were. No matter if we couldn't believe we had climbed all of those steps.
In fact, we seemed to have enough energy to climb around under the rock ledge and even to run down the steps when I mentioned ice cream.
Finally, we reached the bottom again. We took a vote and my musketeer BFF's, Porta-Potty and Darth Vader, cast the deciding votes to head for home … to not pass Go … to skip Hickory Nut Falls … to not stop for lunch.
I thought to myself … no lunch? … what about the Gem Stone Store? … what about the miniature golf? … WHAT ABOUT THE SOUVENIR SHOP? Well … that is what you call living in a democracy. Then I realized … what the heck, there is always more to see if you go looking for it.
In fact,
there might very well be
another adventure lurking
right at the top
of that very next hilltop.
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