We'll Never Know the Rest of Your Story...

A little over 5 months ago, our daughter Faith said she wanted another cat for her birthday. It was an innocent request that made our whole family much richer.

To clarify, when Faith asked for this, we already had 2 cats in our home, but one was technically her Mom's and the other was technically mine. Faith wanted one of her own so everyone could have "their own" cat. The beauty of a child's sometimes simple mind should never be lost on us.

However, this wouldn't be a simple decision. I actually laughed it off at first, if I'm being completely honest. We eventually thought about it seriously and debated it as a family for a few weeks. Could we afford another animal? Could we manage to take care of another animal? Would the other cats accept another cat? In any case, we decided to start looking before coming to a consensus on these questions, because the odds of us finding "the right cat" were very long to begin with.

When I say "the right cat," it's not purely from preference for breed or gender or anything like that (although Faith really did want a tortie). We were already caring for two Feline Leukemia positive cats, and we can't/won't bring any cats into our home that aren't already positive for this virus. It's a moral decision. We could bring home any regular cat, knowing that they might get infected with the virus. We have always decided that we wouldn't want to do that to an otherwise healthy cat.

Perhaps this is the best time to mention that Feline Leukemia is not a death sentence, and these cats can live long, healthy lives under proper care. In fact, we have Minx approaching his 7th birthday. I highly encourage you to do some research on FeLV+ cats and consider adopting one if you don't already have a cat, because they are usually among the first to be euthanized when no homes are found for them. And as you'll see if you continue reading, they can be just as amazing as "regular" cats.

I'm a firm believer that pets choose their owners, not the other way around. Everyone, Faith included, searched on the internet for weeks. Rae and I probably visited or talked to a dozen shelters and pet stores in that time. It's not easy to find a cat within these parameters, trust me. It's even more difficult when you're looking for a specific color or breed. Then one amazing day, we stumbled upon a FeLV+ tortie at the Cat Welfare Association in northern Columbus. We set up an appointment to go see her, and even though we were thrilled, we weren't in any way prepared for what was about to happen.

The Cat Welfare Association cares for up to 200 cats at any one time, so when you walk in, there are literally cats everywhere. In the saddest but most humane way possible, they keep all the FeLV+ positive cats quarantined in one room. Obviously, that's where we were headed. It was a small room, maybe 10'x10', but big enough for the five cats that occupied it. We could see four of them when we walked in, resting comfortably on two large cat trees that occupied one corner of the room. Our tortie was hiding in the farthest back corner. We asked the technician if we could spend some time in there to see if she came out to us, and of course they obliged.

Rae sat down on the floor, and almost immediately, this guy flopped into her lap:

I don't have any actual pictures from that moment, but it was pretty clear that he had chosen us. His name was Marvin, full name Starvin' Marvin, named after the character from South Park of many years past. As you can see from the picture, he's not a tortie. Almost instantly, we decided we were going home with two cats that day. I mean, how could we not?

A brief aside and thank you to Tortie, who we had to pull out from one of those cat trees just to see. I held her in my arms and she didn't try to run away, so I knew she felt safe with us. We owe her a thank you for not only continuing to be a part of our lives, but also for leading us to Marvin.

As is the case with many shelter adoptions, they were both in less than ideal shape. Tortie had matted fur in several areas, and Marvin had a nasty looking facial wound that was the smallest of the uphill battles he faced:

He had also been a victim of malnourishment before he had arrived at the shelter, and even though he had gained a few pounds in their care, you can see he was still emaciated by the time he walked into our lives:

Two weeks after we got him, we finally decided he was ready for a bath, and we discovered that he had a skin infection on his tail and other places. That led to the first of several vet visits:

Some antibiotics was the course of action and just kinda waiting to see how he fared. The vets kept us informed regularly that he was still in pretty bad shape, but doing OK all things considered. Throughout his first couple months in our home, he had his good days and bad. After one particularly bad day, we took him back to the vet and found out that he wasn't gaining any weight because he had pancreatitis on top of everything he'd already gone through. He was given more medication that helped alleviate the symptoms, and that's basically the pattern he'd go through for the foreseeable future.

Saying all of this, I'm amazed that he had such an amazing spirit about him. For example, I was home sick one day in early March, and he spent the entire day with me:

In fact, it was quite common for him to seek out any human in the room:

He would regularly greet our friends who came over as if he'd known them his whole life, and he used to wait for me at the door every day when I came home from work:

He looks pretty good up there, right? That pic was actually taken after he'd conquered another obstacle: having TWENTY teeth removed. Yes, after all the malnourishment and other internal issues, his teeth had suffered as well. You can see the area on his left front paw where they had shaven him to inject the IV for his meds during the surgery.

In that instance, the vet had to keep him overnight. When we spoke with them, they said he wasn't eating or acting normally for a cat that just had that procedure. We soon found out that it was because he was depressed, because when Rae showed up to pick him up the next day, he perked up. We had him back to "normal" for a little while, which included him attempting to get up on our table during meals:

That's one of the most interesting things I learned about Marvin. The shelter will never let us know the full backstory of how the cats came to be in their possession, but I sense that at some point in his life, he knew deep, unconditional human love before us (He was also probably fed from the table, or fed people food at some point!). We think his human may have passed away and he was abandoned in the process, perhaps having spent some time on the streets. Whatever it was, in spite of everything he'd been through before and also everything he went through while we had him, he was always so eager to love.

Shortly thereafter, he was doing better for a few weeks, but then he slowly started to decline. He got a cold, and even though we took him to the vet once again and got some more meds which helped a little, I'm not sure he ever fully recovered from it. As I said before, he'd have good days and bad. Nothing was truly concerning because he always seemed to bounce back. He was feeling well enough on some days to go out into our back yard with the other cats:

He really enjoyed that (they all do), but he did always stay close to us, rarely going off to explore. I really think he was afraid of being abandoned again. However, in the last two weeks or so, this became the norm when he wasn't eating:

And even though he would eat and eat and eat, sometimes up to 6 meals a day, he wasn't gaining any weight. It became somewhat of a running joke when we'd ask the cats if they wanted treats, none of the other cats would eat all of their treats and Marvin would pick up their leftovers. Treat time was always his favourite time of day.

You can probably see that his ears are flopped over in the above picture. We asked the vet and did some research on our own, but couldn't come to any definitive conclusion. Although it looks adorable, in hindsight we think that was his body telling us something. Finally, on Sunday afternoon, we were witness to a terrible episode where he tried ardently to get to the litter box but couldn't even hold it in before dropping a couple loose stools on the floor as he walked gingerly toward the bathroom.

He did make it to the box, but then he attempted to hide after he'd done his business. An animal in pain attempting to hide is a really bad sign. I found him crouched behind the bathroom door several minutes later, facing toward the corner and barely able to walk. We tried to get him to eat or drink, even resorting to trying to use syringes to gently force it down his throat. He didn't improve, so we frantically took him to the OSU Emergency Veterinarian.

They didn't tell us anything we didn't already know. They attempted to stabilize him, but they said he would need to be hospitalized if there was any hope of saving him. Knowing what he'd already been through, plus how he felt the last time we had to let him stay overnight at the vet, and with the added burden of upwards of $4,000 in additional medical expenses that might still have not ended up saving his life, we made the toughest decision. When I looked at him for the last time, his eyes still said "Thank you" even through all the pain:

To say that we were stunned and deeply saddened by this sudden turn of events would be an understatement. At this point, I've written almost 1,800 words about our special little guy and I can't find any to describe how I felt in that moment, how I managed to drive home, or how we found it in ourselves to dig a hole in our landscape to lay him to rest just a few hours later. One thing I don't want to forget to mention is that the loss of a beloved pet affects us as humans in ways we can't describe, but it also affects the lives of the other pets that shared his life. We let Minx and PAws in the yard yesterday, and the first thing they did was visit their dearly departed brother:

They've been acting differently over the last three days too. We all have. No cat is "just a cat" to anyone or anything who loves them. I've held it together the best I could have over the last three days, but I'm absolutely fucking broken inside right now.

There's always a silver lining. The old cliche "Everything happens for a reason" is something I do believe, and I also believe "There are no accidents." This whole thing was meant to teach us something, and Marvin chose to be our teacher. Maybe he wanted to show us that it's possible find happiness in spite of all the horrible things you may be forced to endure. Maybe he wanted to show us how to love and appreciate everyone and everything in our lives. Or maybe he was a desperate soul looking for a little bit of redemption in his final months and he needed us to set him free.

I don't know the answer, and we may never know the rest of his story. I do know that in time, we'll be OK with this. I miss him horribly. We all do. We are also all so much richer because he decided to be a part of our lives, no matter how brief that time may have been.

More Than Just a Game...

There are a good number of people who are sports fans simply because of the visceral joy of winning or pain of losing, and there are just as many who appreciate sports on a much more cerebral level. Some of us have been lucky enough to have been both at different times of our lives.

I'm not sure when exactly I turned that corner, but I'm sure many of you can remember the days when I used to tailgate and drink adult beverages all day before Phillies (or Eagles or Flyers) games - maybe I even did this with you - and at the time that exemplified how I liked to enjoy the games. Those types of experiences don't happen very often of late, but I still find myself attending sporting events and enjoying them just as much, if not more.

For starters, I've begun to appreciate simply seeing my teams in person more since I moved to Ohio because my teams are no longer in my back yard. "Going to the game" is now a once or twice a year rarity, not an everyday possibility. I was extremely lucky to have two such opportunities within three weeks of each other, beginning with a Labor Day trip to Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati:

I believe this is the fifth different Major League ballpark I've visited, and visiting a new park for the first time is yet another layer of the experience. Each one offers its own unique atmosphere. True to my roots, I always try to find a Philly connection:

That's Charlie Hustle, more commonly known as Pete Rose. He was pretty good at baseball, I hear. For those of you who don't feel like clicking the links and who don't know the history, he spent a lot of time in Cincinnati on some of the greatest baseball teams in history during the 1970's, and helped the Phillies to a World Series victory in 1980.

It's always appreciated when the ballpark has something for everyone. For the younglings, a playground on the concourse:

Out of respect for POW-MIA families, an empty seat sits in the outfield:

And one of my favorite things to do at the ballpark, keeping score:

It really is becoming a lost art, as I don't know many people my age who still do this. My grandfather used to do this while listening to the radio at home, and my Dad still has some of his old score books at home, so it always holds a special place in my heart (I'll have another score keeping story later too).

To tie this all in, I got to enjoy this particular game with the man that taught me how to keep a score book, my stepdad:

And isn't that what really makes attending sporting events special? Spending time with family and/or friends. It brings people together, literally. In a randomly awesome turn of events, this game ended up bringing me back together with my friend Josh that I hadn't seen in more than 10 years:

Oh, and "we" also won. At the time, we were still very much alive in the playoff race, so that was a pretty special cherry on top.

Three weeks later, the fam and I ventured up to Cleveland to visit my girlfriend's sister and brother-in-law. I'd pitched the idea to them a few months in advance because they'd just moved in late last year, we hadn't yet seen their house, and I knew the Phillies would be in town. Perfect excuse to come visit, right? An added bonus, none of us had ever been to Jacobs Field (yes, I'm not calling it by its corporate name), nor had we ever utilized Cleveland's rapid transit system:

I felt right at home on the train. It reminded me a lot of my days taking SEPTA to the South Philly Sports Complex. Just ignore my extra cheese:

Other than a lengthier-than-anticipated walk from the transit concourse to the stadium itself, the experience was quite pleasant, efficient, and affordable. Yet another reminder of why I continue to champion public transit (*cough*Columbus*cough). Anyway...

Two things I can't appreciate enough are that both games featured excellent weather, combined with excellent seats (thanks to my boss for the assist on these beauties):

Of course, with each new ballpark, you have the opportunity to experience new local beer:

And if you've been waiting for my Philly connection, here it is:

Jim Thome was also pretty good at baseball. He spent most of his career with Cleveland, but also had two separate stints with the Phillies, and is enshrined on both teams' Walls of Fame AND the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

Of course, I also kept score:

This particular scorecard has some extra special meaning. I found out that they don't print game day programs any more. Sad. I mean, interacting with the program guy on the way in was one of those extra little things that made baseball special. But I digress...at least you can still purchase a score card from the team store, which I got in line to do about 20 minutes before first pitch. An older gentleman behind me noticed my Phillies t-shirt and asked me if I was from Philly or just a fan of the team. I told him I was born and raised on Philly sports, and I may have mentioned that it went all the way back to my grandfather keeping score at home. After we exchanged pleasantries and I assumed we'd be on our way.

When I got to the front of the line moments later, I told the cashier I only wanted a score card. The gentleman behind me, probably not expecting this kind of request to come from someone my age, was overwhelmed with joy. He said "Oh man, I love this guy! Here, let me buy that for ya." Granted, it only cost $1, but it was an incredibly warming gesture and I couldn't express enough thanks to him. It was the icing on the cake of another fantastic evening at the ballpark, one in which "we" won again:

As I sit here typing this, the Phillies have lost four straight since Saturday evening when that photo was taken, and have long since been eliminated from playoff contention (perhaps I need to go to more games - haha!). Neither of these things will change how special these couple of September afternoons were to my family, and especially to me. It's not just baseball, and it's not just about the game. It's about the experience.

For the Love of Philly

Bartender: I'm going to take a wild guess you're from Philly.

Me: Yes, but I actually just moved to Columbus.

That exchange happened as I was sitting in Railhead Brewery in Upstate New York on a random Summer day last June. I'd stopped for lunch on my way back to Columbus after spending a week fishing and outdoorsing. Her guess wasn't entirely unfounded. I was wearing a Philadelphia Brewing Co. t-shirt and a Flyers hat. I guess I do have a tendency to wear my heart on my sleeve. Or head.

But what's odd about that exchange is that I'm not actually from Philly, if we're taking the meaning literally. Still, I said what I said, and I meant it. I've never identified more with a place, and as I sit here typing this a year later, I know that no other place will ever eclipse that. I'm both proud and saddened to say that...

I still can't believe it's already been a year since I moved out of the City of Brotherly Love, a place I called home for more than 4 years. It seems like so much longer, and not in a W.C. Fields kind of way. My girlfriend half-jokingly has said on numerous occasions that if Philadelphia were a person, I'd probably try to date it. Accepting that as truth, I don't think I can explain exactly why that is. Just love is all.

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”- Paulo Coelho

I moved to Philly in 2014. I was without a full-time job or even a real place to live as I was picking up the ashes from a failed cross-country adventure. After a few weeks "vacationing" at my Mom's, I knew that my born-and-raised home just wasn't going to cut it for my next step. I decided to move into a dingy room above a bar with not much more than what I could fit in my car. Fool proof plan, right?

But somehow, everything about Philly just seemed to line up. Even before I moved into a place of my own, I was "living there" by house-sitting for some friends, renting a hostel, and occasionally spending a weekend here or there with whoever was gracious enough to accommodate a couch surfer in exchange for some good company and maintenance. I worked for 7 different part-time or freelance employers in my first 8 months alone just to make it happen. Some days, I basically worked to pay for a place to stay so I could work. Thinking back on it, I don't know how I did it some days.

Like I said, it always worked out. That's one of the reasons I've often said that I didn't find Philly; Philly found me. My first regular job there at the Strengthening Health Institute was a completely random happenstance, and things grew steadily from there. I had booked a consultation with Denny Waxman in January 2014 to attempt to get my physical health back on track after some issues I was experiencing. After meeting him, he offered me a job working in the office at the school to help produce videos of macrobiotic seminars taught by him and his wife Susan.

It was only a part-time job, but it was a good enough start to keep me in the city regularly and in the best of spirits to boot. I finally had a chance to utilize my skills for a project I was actually passionate about for the first time in what felt like forever, and I ended up working for two amazing bosses who became my mentors and some of my closest friends. I met my roommate(s) through the school, and I met a ton of other amazing people too. SHI was also ultimately responsible for me finding Wash Cycle Laundry, and the rest is history as the saying goes. In many ways, I'm quite lucky they found me.

"New York is a place where people go to reinvent themselves; Philadelphia is a place where people discover who they are."
- Chef Peter McAndrews

I occasionally try to remember who I was before Philly, and I still don't have any idea who I was back then. I mean, I know we're all at least a little different today than we were five years ago, but it's not even close. I didn't even own a bike when I moved there. Now, I can't imagine myself without one (or five). I was also still a vegetarian for less than a year at the time. Now, I don't know how I survived eating the way I used to (well, I do know, but I don't like it). I had also never lived in a dense urban setting. Now, I find myself longing for it. I could go on.

Somehow, many years ago, I knew I belonged there. For most of my adult life, I never felt truly comfortable where I lived or doing most of the things I was doing. Philly changed all of that.

Philly was so damn special that I was willing to attempt a distance relationship for a second time in my life after vowing never to do it again in 2013. In some strange way, things have come full circle. My girlfriend and I visited this past weekend, and when we left, I had a strange deja vu. I used to get this sad feeling when one of us would have to leave the other at the end of a weekend visit. I got that same feeling when we had to head back to Columbus yesterday.

So why did I decide to move on from a place that I adore so deeply? Because we were ready to combine our family, and the timing just wasn't (yet) right for Philly to be our base camp. It was without a doubt the most difficult decision I've ever had to make, and that's because it was correct. My girlfriend doesn't like to admit this, but she cried just as much as I did when I moved out last year. I can't blame her. Basically half of our relationship was spent in Philly. There's a pretty good reason why we've vowed to return every year on our anniversary, and why we'll return hopefully for good one day.

I sit here one year later knowing that I'm not in a bad place, and knowing that I moved to Columbus for all the right reasons. But, I still miss everything about Philly, and not a day goes by that I don't think about it. In full admittance, I get so homesick sometimes it actually hurts. The following is an incomplete list of things I pine for on a regular basis:

• Seeing 200+ year old historical landmarks on a daily basis
• Parks on Tap in Summer
• BYOBs
• Free daily newspapers
• Beer Week
• Consistent open mic nights, and the occasional paid gig
• Sports that actually matter (sorry not sorry OSU)
• Eagles chants everywhere
• Day trips to the shore
• Day trips to Mom and Dad's
• Good pizza and bread
• Passyunk Avenue
• Being able to bike basically anywhere within or without reason
• Having a local coffee shop within walking distance
• Parallel parking
• "Howya doin?"
• Row homes
• Trolleys
• Amtrak
• Only needing my car to leave the city
• Bumping into a random friend everywhere I went
• For that matter, having several different circles of friends instead of just one

I know I'm still relatively new in Ohio. I still have a lot of work to do to build a better life for us out here. I really, really don't want to paint the picture of Columbus as a bad place. It's not bad. It's just...not Philly. And that's OK.

For all of these and so many more reasons I can't begin to write, lately when someone asks me where I'm from, I'll respond proudly: I'm from Philly. Because I've always loved it, and always will.

The Importance of Something (Seemingly) Meaningless

There are moments that appear to observers as just ordinary, even meaningless. To those that experience the moment, they can be defining.

I took a casual bike ride last Sunday. Rain had plagued the area for most of the day, but by early evening it had moved out and given way to a very un-January-esque night. It was the perfect time to appreciate, well everything in life:

I forgot to bring my camera with me, but I think my phone does a pretty serviceable job conveying the moment. It was the "off week" between the Super Bowl and when the Eagles had won their conference championship. The slight breeze and mist in the air made the evening absolutely breathtaking. The atmosphere even smelled perfect, not to mention the beautiful, unifying sight of seeing all the city's buildings lit up in green:

The sights and sounds around this city last night after the Eagles won the Super Bowl were dramatically different, to say the least. They were anything but casual, but also equally unifying (at least from my vantage point). I'm sure you've seen the pictures and videos from around the webernets. I captured a few videos but only one picture, and the only one that really matters to me:

My extremely giddy face tells the entire story. I'd like to backtrack a bit, to attempt to bring this whole thing into perspective. About a year ago, I started dating this amazing woman that you see above, who unfortunately lives many miles away from Philly. She also has an equally amazing daughter, and her birthday was a few days ago.

About a month and a half ago, we'd made plans for me to visit them to celebrate a birthday, with an extended weekend culminating in watching the Super Bowl (by the way, she's a Steelers fan too). When we made these plans, our teams appeared to be on a collision course to meet in the big game. Watching it together at a neutral site seemed only fair.

Then some funny things happened. The Eagles lost their MVP quarterback and all of that seemed in jeopardy. The Steelers lost in the first round of the playoffs, confirming we (as a couple) could only potentially have one rooting interest in the Super Bowl.

Much to my (our) pleasant surprise, the Eagles defied all odds and made it to the grandest of stages in spite of all doubters. The party on Broad Street in South Philly after the NFC Championship game was absolutely electrifying. I now had a decision to make.

I didn't want to not be here for the Super Bowl. I also couldn't miss the kid's birthday. We talked. I decided I was going to change my game plan and attempt to do both, requiring a whole lot of driving within a span of about 48 hours. Everything was perfectly aligned. Perhaps I should emphasize how damn understanding and awesome she is.

And then she went one step further and said "WE can do both." She booked a one-way flight out of Philly for this evening and we decided to road trip from her house back here to Philly the night before the game. Apparently the allure of what went down here the previous week was not only too much for me to avoid, but also for her.

As you can see from the picture above, we did it, and those three words sum it all up. We're just fans when it comes down to it, but WE DID IT. Against all odds and all challenges, WE WON.

Being part of the moment with this wonderful person by my side the entire way made it all that much sweeter. Every low, every high, every cringe, every cheer, all of it. We didn't get to Philly until 4:30AM on Super Bowl Sunday, and yet I never felt tired throughout the entire day. Only this afternoon did the adrenaline finally start to wear off. And the picture up above is the defining moment, when everything in love and sports that I've been waiting for my whole life came to fruition. WE. FUCKING. DID. IT.

The Eagles winning the Super Bowl is meaningless to some. To me, it not only means a lot, but it also means just a little bit more.

Remember Before you Forget

Yesterday, everyone posted "never forget," reposted pictures of the former twin towers with American flags draped over top, and shared their moments from our generation's "JFK" all over social media.

What are we all doing today?

As cynical as that question may sound, we can't deny that most who engaged in these activities will indeed "forget" whatever they were representing just hours earlier - love, hate (yes, hate), remembrance, patriotism, garnering "likes," and the list goes on...

...because today we're directing our attention to the next thing. Tuesday. Work. School. Lunch. These are just some examples, but I think you get my point. Today is 9/12, and it's just another day.

We have these "cornerstones" in American schedules - Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day (noticing a pattern here) - where we go through the time-honored tradition of saying "We Remember..." and just as quickly, forget. And sadly, this sums up America to me. We are as the Simpsons put it so elegantly so many years ago, a "quick fix, instant oatmeal, 1-hour photo society." What's important to us one minute is completely forgotten the next minute.

I'm not the world's biggest patriot. Far from it. I'm simply saying that instead of saying "never forget," if it's really that important, we may want to "always remember."

Together in the Wilderness

It's been a while...

I was fortunate enough to spend an awesome weekend in nature with an awesome girl this weekend, which started with an omen near the end of a 4-hour drive:

As I was exiting the PA Turnpike, I swerved to avoid a piece of debris on the off-ramp. As I passed it, I swore I saw a turtle and thought I saw movement. I slammed on the brakes to go back and look. Sure enough, the little fella was alive but far from well, trying to cross the road from marsh to marsh. He never would have made it over the jersey barrier. I picked him up and carried him across the road to safety, only to get peed on for my troubles. I can't blame the poor little guy. I've been told it's actually a sign of good luck to come, and in hindsight, I'd say that was the case.

I met up with my girlfriend at a grocery store not far from our destination to pick up some supplies before arriving at camp in Laurel Hill State Park:

It was at this point we realized we had no cell service, which was completely alright with both of us. I've often said I belong in a simpler time and place, and it can't get much simpler than this in modern times. The title of this blog being what it is, there was also no better place to appreciate the present moment.

Of course, we did bring some modern conveniences (if you want to call it that). I mean, I couldn't cook dinner unless I had a gas stove (or two):

Alright, so I guess I could have used wood fire (we eventually did later in the weekend), but nonetheless. I love cooking outside. I also love campfires:

After that burned out, we got some rest and set out for the first of several hikes the next morning, none of which were really planned other than by looking at the park map. Our first half of the adventure wasn't particularly noteworthy, but we did stumble upon this neat little spot, Hemlock Natural Area:

It's much more peaceful than my shitty phone camera makes it out to be. It's also associated with this:

That's a pretty interesting find. The only time I remember being in an old-growth forest was on the West Coast (click the link to learn more), and they are becoming fewer and further between. Perhaps on a related note, I was pleasantly surprised to see very few instances of trash in the entirety of the park, so Western PA peeps have their shit together at least sometimes...

We ventured on to the more intense Lake section of the trail (I don't have any pics but I think my girlfriend took a few) and we did pretty darn good despite the park classifying it as its most difficult trail. As we hiked on, it became clearer that this was a classic old-growth forest, as fallen trees are left to decay naturally. We encountered several of these in this section, including one that took out the bridge near the end of the hike:

We weren't about to turn back, as we were starting to get hungry and traversing back about 2 miles over that terrain would have been far too long to go without real food (face it, a ClifBar can only hold you for so long). We decided to cross and hope for the best (obviously we survived). After completing our sojourn across the broken bridge, we were understandably excited:

But ultimately, we were starting to feel like this:

So we headed back to camp for lunch:

Did I mention that I love cooking outdoors? All told, we logged more than 6 miles over some pretty intense terrain. Not too bad for two people who don't hike regularly:

My legs were definitely feeling the burn afterward, and it was kinda nice to be sore for a change. I realize I bike every day, but I'm sure I don't need to remind you that it's really not the same as hiking.

Speaking of bikes, you know it wouldn't be a Steve adventure if a bike wasn't involved at SOME point. I actually brought my mountain bike for the weekend, but pulled it out of the car and realized I'd somehow blown a tire, so that wasn't going to be an option. Luckily, my forward-thinking girlfriend decided to bring BOTH of her bikes, so we ate lunch and sneaked in a few miles of riding before hitting another hiking trail:

This trail happened to be my favorite of the weekend. It was a leisurely walk next to and over a winding creek:

When I say over, I mean OVER:

It was only a foot or two deep at that point, so falling probably wouldn't have been the end of the world. Also makes for a great photo op:

The trail continued on. Our particular journey ended at the Jones Mill Run Dam, a beautiful old stone dam built more than a hundred years ago out of all natural dry-stacked stone "imported" from Pottsville PA:

I had to get one Eastern PA plug in there. Also makes for a great photo op, don'tcha think?

On a shallower water day, we probably would have crossed the top of the dam (which you ARE allowed to do), but it had rained pretty intensely the night before, so that really wasn't a great idea. We hopped on the bikes and headed back to camp:

One more time, did I mention that I love to cook outdoors?

Side note, this was also the first weekend I'd actually cooked for my girlfriend. Kudos to her for leaving her livelihood in the hands of this strange macrobiotic dude. She actually enjoyed it, but I had little doubt she would. I mean it's not like we were cooking giant millipedes, of which we saw plenty:

Not a whole lot of interesting wildlife to be seen otherwise this weekend, but plenty of flora, though:

And this neat little guy hiding in the rough:

Speaking of rough, Sunday morning came and we had already accomplished everything we wanted to in the park, one of the many perks of having zero expectations or set plans. The only natural thing to do was to find another trail. The one we chose first had a climb, and then curved back towards camp along the same creek that leads to the dam, but from the other direction. It's not well-marked or traveled, and I think it was more difficult than any trail we hiked all weekend. Some sections are extremely marshy and muddy due to recent snow melt, and there's no bridge to cross the creek at several places. As such, we got into some true wilderness hiking:

The water was cold but refreshing, and let me tell ya, my feet felt great after I eventually put my socks back on. It's been over a year since I walked in non-beach water or on natural dirt (which I didn't realize until just now) and I need to try to do that more often. It's tough to do in a city. Anyway...

We forged ahead and stopped back at the dam to eat a light lunch. By the time we got back to the car, we had put in nearly 4 more miles through some pretty intense terrain:

For those of you keeping track, we were near 1,000 feet of elevation gained on the weekend (via hiking alone, not including biking). Only 28,000 feet more to climb Everest!

But we weren't through yet. We'd seen just about all this park had to offer, so after breaking camp, we headed up the road to the much smaller Kooser State Park. It literally had two trails and we hiked both of them, the first of which had a neat name:

Imagine an army of trees. Maybe like the Ents in Lord of the Rings? I dunno. I'm just glad we weren't there at night. We finished that one in rather short order and set our sights on the much more challenging Kincora Trail:

Challenging in the name of a 300-foot incline at approximately 60 degrees:

You know it's real when they build the steps into the mountain. Guess what? We made it!

We headed back down the hill, which was actually more difficult. Unbelievable to me, we finished the entire park in about an hour:

The bittersweet moment that followed was having to say goodbye (for now). I wanna say I hated it, but it's all part of the experience. As I drove away from the weekend, passing through the tunnels and mountains of Western Pennsylvania while the sun faded away, I had plenty of reasons to feel lucky, even though we'd done little more than spend a couple days walking (and biking) through the woods. That turtle knew what he was doing.

Safe to say, I'll miss her when I'm alone in Canada next week...