The Easy Trails Aren’t Easy Anymore

Me at the falls
Me at Laurel Falls, and I didn’t drop dead

Way back in the old days when I was twenty-four and on my honeymoon, the easy hikes in the Great Smoky Mountains were really easy. Now, forty-six years later, nothin’ ain’t easy no more.
In a brochure put out by the park service, Laurel Falls weren’t that far away, maybe a mile and a half and the elevation didn’t rise that much. On top of that, half of it was paved. It’s completely paved now but that didn’t make much difference for me.
Luckily I had my son along with me. We had small backpacks where we kept our bottled water. Along the way we met a family with three teen-agers who were climbing up an uncharted portion of the mountain or they were scrambling down the side to a little stream babbling below. My son and I usually passed by and smiled as the parents waited for their wayward teens to return to the trail.
It wasn’t long, though, until they passed us because I had to sit on a rock gasping for air. Then we’d pass them again as their kids went on another off-trail adventure. Then they’d pass me on another rock gasping.
One reason I had trouble was that my wife Janet wasn’t there to read the trail guides to me. You see, every few hundred feet there was a post with a number on it. Janet would read the paragraph under the corresponding number in the guide. We learned something about nature and caught our breath at the same time. The pamphlets used to be free and you could slip them in a slot back at the trail head so someone else could use them. Now the park sells them for a dollar each, and I wasn’t going to spend money on something I wouldn’t want to read again after the hike was over.
Eventually I heard the roar of the falls so I knew they had to be around the next bend, or maybe the next. We did get to that last bend and there was a mob of people sitting and looking, climbing slippery rocks and taking a natural shower, with their clothes on of course. As I crossed the wooden foot bridge to sit by the falls, there was the mother of the three thrill-seeking teen-agers smiling at me and extending her hand.
“Congratulations! You finally made it!”
I too smiled, said thank you, shook her hand firmly and searched for an empty rock to sit on. I felt there was a touch of irony in her voice but I was too tired to ponder it seriously. After all I had the walk back to the parking lot to consider. My son and I took a few pictures and rested some more before we undertook the trek down the mountain.
Along the way we again saw the energetic family finding new nooks and crannies to explore off the beaten path. And again we passed them only to be passed by them. No more hearty congratulations for not dropping dead yet.
I learned two lessons that day. Everything is hard after you get old. And take compliments with a smile and thank you when you can get them, even if you don’t think they’re sincere.

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