A cabin nestled in the mountains of Blue Ridge, Georgia. A retreat. A life that I have always treasured where I can be myself, wear old sweats, hair in a ponytail, trail running shoes, yet never feel out of place. A place where my heart just reaches out and connects with God, where I can test my very core of strength and perseverence with each run or mountain I climb. A place of the happiest memories of connecting with my husband, faithful dog Tucker, and sweet adventurous daughter, Hailey. A place of dreams to come - a wish that our children will grow up here laughing, sharing secrets, building forts for Barbie dolls, hunting for sticks to create a campfire, and long hikes to distant fire towers.
Our cabin has been all that to me and so much more. It is not a mere house in the woods, made of wood and stone, a rental property or weekend escape. For me, it makes me who I am. Sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, I dream of being a bird, soaring up the valley before me. Viewing the mountains I imagine conquering every one of them. The sound of Falls Branch Falls and Stanley Creek rushing down alongside the road makes me happy inside. God's playground touches my senses like no other place.
Every time we return to the cabin, starting as far back as when we purchased it almost 9 years ago, I follow the same routine. The first morning there, I wake up, throw on my old trail running shoes, head out the door and up the gravel driveway to where it meets our road, Dream Cove Rd (I have never understood why the neighborhood of 7 cabins is called "Dream Cove" -it is miles away from Lake Blue Ridge or any standing body of water, but it is the place of my dreams). I plunge downhill a 1/2 mile to the entrance with dancing happy feet, turn right on Stanley Creek Rd and follow the only flat, paved section of my route to the 9 min mark, then vere on to the Benton MacKay trail to start my ascent up the trail to Falls Branch Falls and ultimately Stanley Gap. I battle my inner demons screaming to stop and walk (even though on the climb a walk/hike would probably be the same pace as my running attempt, just without the added bounce). I play a countdown game in my head, checking off each water bar carved into the trail, as I dig in. There are 7 or 9 in all, depending on when I start counting. That game is always the same, and has never gotten easier, but I refuse to walk even one step of it, and summitting, tagging the Benton Mackay trail marker sign at the top with a High 5, usually around 20:50 mark. At that point, I either turn around and fly back down the hill or take a left and head down the ankle twisting, loose rock Stanley Gap Trail to Stanley Creek Rd. It is virtually downhill all the way til I reach the entrance to Dream Cove. After an anticipatory deep breath I dig in for the final climb to the cabin. I barely make it to the one concrete section of our road and stop and walk once my foot touches it, hands on quads to help push them up the drive, which is only a total of 50'. When my feet hit the gravel again, I will myself to start running to the finish line, spotting the decks of the cabin though the trees and thinking of Dave and the girls awaiting my arrival at the top. The final climb is pure guts. It is so steep, a Jeep Cherokee we once had slid backwards down the hill in the rain and we had to park it at the bottom and hike up in the dark, only to rescue the car the next morning. Hence, our need to invest in 4 wheel drive the next car we purchased. The total run is only about 42 minutes, but conquering it is a test of will, especially now, 9 years later, 2 children, and lack of living close by to where we can escape every couple of weekends to come up there and play.
The reward upon the return is the highlight of my stay there... a cool down walk to the backside of the cabin, stretching in the back parking pad while taking in the view up the valley, the peace, quiet of the moment. When my breathing regulates, I come around to the front, greeted by my Hailey who immediately begs to go in the hot tub, even though her wet hair gives away that she just got out of it with her Daddy. I quickly change out of sweaty clothes and hop in the 100 degree water, not too hot, not too cold every time, whatever time of year it is. I play games with Hailey, counting how long she can hold her breath under water in her "little pool". Dave, meanwhile, heads out to the trails, tackling his own mountain and once he returns and cools off, usually indulges us in his only attempt at cooking... He toasts bagels, cooks up some eggs, sunny side up, and creates an egg, bagel and cheese sandwich for us. Back in the "real world", we never eat hearty breakfasts like this. In fact, I have a texture issue with eggs and they usually make me want to gag. But not up here, up at the cabin, they nourish the body and fuel it for its next adventure.
I remember being on vacation with Dave out in Beaver Creek, CO in May 2004 when we got the call that a lake house Dave and another guy co-owned had a contract on it. It was my birthday and Dave turned to me and said, "Would you like a cabin in the mountains for your birthday?" - something we talked and dreamed about whenever we would drive up to Blue Ridge to play on the trails for a weekend. His plans were to take the proceeds from the lake house and do a 1031 exchange (in other words, roll over the profit into another income-producing rental property to avoid extra taxes). As soon as we returned to Georgia, I hopped in the car with my little buddy, Tucker, as my copilot and drove up to the mountains. I knew the area we hoped to find something... the Aska Adventure Area. Our dating life and first few years of marriage were spent in that area most weekends, biking, hiking and running the trails. We raced the 8 hour Blue Ridge Mountain Adventure Race together, which took us all though the trails of the area, the Toccoa River and eventually winding back to downtown Blue Ridge and the finish line. We wanted a place where we could relive the adventure each time we stepped out the door.
Our cabin has been all that to me and so much more. It is not a mere house in the woods, made of wood and stone, a rental property or weekend escape. For me, it makes me who I am. Sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, I dream of being a bird, soaring up the valley before me. Viewing the mountains I imagine conquering every one of them. The sound of Falls Branch Falls and Stanley Creek rushing down alongside the road makes me happy inside. God's playground touches my senses like no other place.
Every time we return to the cabin, starting as far back as when we purchased it almost 9 years ago, I follow the same routine. The first morning there, I wake up, throw on my old trail running shoes, head out the door and up the gravel driveway to where it meets our road, Dream Cove Rd (I have never understood why the neighborhood of 7 cabins is called "Dream Cove" -it is miles away from Lake Blue Ridge or any standing body of water, but it is the place of my dreams). I plunge downhill a 1/2 mile to the entrance with dancing happy feet, turn right on Stanley Creek Rd and follow the only flat, paved section of my route to the 9 min mark, then vere on to the Benton MacKay trail to start my ascent up the trail to Falls Branch Falls and ultimately Stanley Gap. I battle my inner demons screaming to stop and walk (even though on the climb a walk/hike would probably be the same pace as my running attempt, just without the added bounce). I play a countdown game in my head, checking off each water bar carved into the trail, as I dig in. There are 7 or 9 in all, depending on when I start counting. That game is always the same, and has never gotten easier, but I refuse to walk even one step of it, and summitting, tagging the Benton Mackay trail marker sign at the top with a High 5, usually around 20:50 mark. At that point, I either turn around and fly back down the hill or take a left and head down the ankle twisting, loose rock Stanley Gap Trail to Stanley Creek Rd. It is virtually downhill all the way til I reach the entrance to Dream Cove. After an anticipatory deep breath I dig in for the final climb to the cabin. I barely make it to the one concrete section of our road and stop and walk once my foot touches it, hands on quads to help push them up the drive, which is only a total of 50'. When my feet hit the gravel again, I will myself to start running to the finish line, spotting the decks of the cabin though the trees and thinking of Dave and the girls awaiting my arrival at the top. The final climb is pure guts. It is so steep, a Jeep Cherokee we once had slid backwards down the hill in the rain and we had to park it at the bottom and hike up in the dark, only to rescue the car the next morning. Hence, our need to invest in 4 wheel drive the next car we purchased. The total run is only about 42 minutes, but conquering it is a test of will, especially now, 9 years later, 2 children, and lack of living close by to where we can escape every couple of weekends to come up there and play.
The reward upon the return is the highlight of my stay there... a cool down walk to the backside of the cabin, stretching in the back parking pad while taking in the view up the valley, the peace, quiet of the moment. When my breathing regulates, I come around to the front, greeted by my Hailey who immediately begs to go in the hot tub, even though her wet hair gives away that she just got out of it with her Daddy. I quickly change out of sweaty clothes and hop in the 100 degree water, not too hot, not too cold every time, whatever time of year it is. I play games with Hailey, counting how long she can hold her breath under water in her "little pool". Dave, meanwhile, heads out to the trails, tackling his own mountain and once he returns and cools off, usually indulges us in his only attempt at cooking... He toasts bagels, cooks up some eggs, sunny side up, and creates an egg, bagel and cheese sandwich for us. Back in the "real world", we never eat hearty breakfasts like this. In fact, I have a texture issue with eggs and they usually make me want to gag. But not up here, up at the cabin, they nourish the body and fuel it for its next adventure.
I remember being on vacation with Dave out in Beaver Creek, CO in May 2004 when we got the call that a lake house Dave and another guy co-owned had a contract on it. It was my birthday and Dave turned to me and said, "Would you like a cabin in the mountains for your birthday?" - something we talked and dreamed about whenever we would drive up to Blue Ridge to play on the trails for a weekend. His plans were to take the proceeds from the lake house and do a 1031 exchange (in other words, roll over the profit into another income-producing rental property to avoid extra taxes). As soon as we returned to Georgia, I hopped in the car with my little buddy, Tucker, as my copilot and drove up to the mountains. I knew the area we hoped to find something... the Aska Adventure Area. Our dating life and first few years of marriage were spent in that area most weekends, biking, hiking and running the trails. We raced the 8 hour Blue Ridge Mountain Adventure Race together, which took us all though the trails of the area, the Toccoa River and eventually winding back to downtown Blue Ridge and the finish line. We wanted a place where we could relive the adventure each time we stepped out the door.
As soon as Tucker and I crested the gravel hill to our soon to be cabin, I knew there was something special about this place. It was about 60% complete the first time I stepped on the porch and gazed up the valley. We worked directly with Brandon Mathis, the builder, who was only 21 years old at the time, a genuine hardworking country boy from the mountains. It was a challenge for me to understand what Brandon would say to us in his native slang, but Dave, being a Southern Redneck at heart (although he tries to keep his history of BMX'ing, drag racing cars and getting into trouble with his friends growing up a secret), would slip into a drawl and banter right back with Brandon. Brandon let us pick out the counter tops - a slate tile, cabinet knobs - cute little dragon flies and iron "sticks", light fixtures and faucets. Each time we came up to check it out, which of course, was about once/week, we would be amazed at how Brandon would do things even better than we envisioned. He even let us camp out there one night in the top bedroom during a rainstorm. I think that night I realized how perfect this was truly going to be. We could do all the wonderful things I love doing while camping -hiking, mountain biking, campfires, listening to crickets at night, but with the bonus of not waking up in the morning and dealing with wet, damp everything, sleeping comfortably in a bed rather than on the ground, and the most beautiful sound of rain tapping on the tin roof while the windows and doors remained wide open. Plus, the bears couldn't get us! Although, over the years we learned that bears like pizza -or at least attack the pizza boxes in the garbage can when they get a chance. They also love sitting on hot tub covers and visiting every once in awhile.
Over the years, Dave and I would venture out, checking out other spec cabins, upgraded with granite counter tops and custom cabinets. All gorgeous, but they were not our cabin with our view, privacy, location, and memories. Our cabin is the place I dreamed of our children smiling when they think back of their childhood. It is the place where we turn technology off and focus on each other, creating memories of long hikes to hidden waterfalls and suspended bridges, making smores by the campfire and telling campfire tales, playing board games or spending hours working on a 1000 piece puzzle on a rainy day, and taking in a counting stars on a dark, crisp night.
A few months ago, we put our beloved cabin on the market. Over the past year especially, we have realized that it is just getting too hard to relax up there with Hayden. The cabin is completely not angel-proof. The banisters leading up to the master retreat are hand-drawn from old pines. Perfectly unique for our cabin, but spaced just far enough apart to where a curious angel can slip though and tumble down from 2nd floor to 1st. The steps leading to the basement are curiously narrow and steep - the downside of an amazing view from the side of the mountain... it is, after all, on the side of a mountain. And the 3 levels of decking, with views as far as the eye can see, are also a death trap for the adventurous fearless angel. Instead of relaxing up there, we are on pins and needles, wondering what Hayden will get into next. We also moved down to Peachtree City 3 years ago, specifically because of Hayden and her condition, needing a school for her and family nearby, thus putting us 2.5 hours (not counting Friday afternoon traffic driving through downtown Atlanta) rather than a quick 75 min hop up I-575.
Yesterday, we received an offer and contract on our mountain home. As much as logical reasoning says it is time to let it go, to focus on our children and our life down here on the Southside of Atlanta, my heart feels like it is being torn apart. The cabin represents the very essence of me, the life I wish to live every day, the dream that my girls will share memories of laughter and playing together up there. Letting go of the cabin means facing the reality that raising a child like Hayden is harder than we ever imagined. We have to change our life because of her condition and what we can not do, no matter how much we fight and try to hold on to it. My belief that her condition is temporary, my hope that a medication would "fix" her by the time she was five so my back wouldn't break trying to carry her around or load her into the car. I truly believed I wouldn't have to fight to change a diaper on a child (not a baby or a toddler), battle feeding her at every single meal without food flying, not be able to sit for a minute without her getting into something that could cause her harm or swallow something that could be life-theatening. Yet, the reality, is that dream is one that I can't make come true. My life is not the life that God wants. I always feel closest to Him when we are up in the mountains, surrounded by his glorious creation, yet He wants to close that door for us. I know He has a greater plan, but it is so so hard to accept. What is wrong with treasuring the excitement in Hailey's (and Tucker's) eyes as she packs to go up there with all her toys and stuffed animals for the weekend away, knowing that she shares the same love as her Daddy and me? Why can't I want my girls to be best friends and share special time together, creating memories of forts, camp fires, and secrets?
Every time we go up to the cabin, we breathe in the mountains as they rise up before us as we pass through downtown Ellijay. We let the lush greenery of the rhododendrums wrap their arms around us when we wind along Stanley Creek Rd, taking the road less travelled to our mountain home. And when we crest the top of the hill and see our cabin, we always say "hello cabin" outloud, like it is an old, familiar friend. As we leave, we look back over our shoulder and whisper "Good-bye cabin. See you next time." I always wonder what adventure "next time" will have in store for us. This next visit to the cabin, as our car lumbers back up the driveway to head south to Atlanta, full of memories and treasures we have stored up there these past 9 years, my heart will be breaking, knowing that life and dreams will never be what I hoped with my heart would become true. I will cry, as I am now, as I say good-bye to my old friend.
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