Hey, Park Ranger

It had already been a day full of wandering when we pulled into Fort Yargo State Park. We went to church in Atlanta, discovered a great new lunch place, ran back to the church for a Bible ceremony with Halle and Emma, changed clothes at home, drove to Braselton's first mall, then had a slice of pizza in Winder before hitting the park.

 

At the park, I sent Paula to the park office for a map while I slipped a fiver to one of the girls at the gate. I asked, "Do you have a two-mile trail we can hike?" Though they didn't have a two-mile trek, she assured me we could pick any trail, hike as long as we wanted, and turn around when we got tired. "Great," I said as my wife climbed back into the van without a map. 

We followed the road for awhile until we got to a camp of motorized trailers, newly installed yurts (pre-fab tentish igloos), and a boat launch. We parked, negotiated who'd carry which water bottle, and made a final stop at the bathrooms. As we started toward the trail a helpful sign told us we were heading onto a 2.6 mile path. I crinkled my brow and thought, "Now why didn't the parking girl tell me she had a trail close to 2 miles long?" It indicated that it should take an hour and a half to hike. I saw that it was 5:58 and we'd have just enough time to enjoy ourselves before it got dark.

As we started I chatted with a barefoot seaman who was dragging in a boatload of driftwood. He liked to make art from the pieces, giving them googly eyes and offering them as gifts named, "The Family Tree." Cooper talked too loudly about the man as we walked away, "Why doesn't he have any shoes? What is he doing with that wood? Is he really called a seaman?"

It didn't take long for the arguing to start. Mostly the kids argued over the unconscionable task of carrying 16 ounces of water like a pack mule and that someone else needed to take a turn, so I implored them to race. I lined them up and pointed to the crest of a hill, they took off, and Paula and I enjoyed a two-minute conversation together. Then they came racing back, complaining that the race was unfair, someone had pushed them aside and they surely would have won if left alone.

We heard the sounds of music and frivolity from somewhere up along the lake and I reminded the kids that this was "Sandy's Party"--at least the signs said so as we entered the park earlier. We soon eyed a beach on the other side of the lake and marked it as a landmark to watch for as we rounded our modest trail. But as we passed the hour mark of our hike, I began to wonder what we'd gotten ourselves into. The yellow blaze still marked the trees along the trail, but the path had been interrupted by some unclear transitions. Still, we kept following our blaze, kept following the lake--could it be any farther to just keep going than to turn around and hike an hour back?

There was a lot of beauty to take in, and other than 5-year-old Cooper, no one complained of being tired. I hoisted Cooper to my shoulders as we reached a long bridge complete with fishermen, some scooping catfish off the bottom of the lake, others using bits of chicken livers to attract the primo fish on top. The beach was next--by then Paula and I were aware we were facing some trouble--and I had the sinking suspicion that we might be only halfway around the lake. The trail also ended and we were forced to walk through a park and up to the road to get around this parking area. Here I asked a young woman who barely acknowledged my existence if we were near the boat ramp. She pointed the opposite direction and I wasn't sure she even knew what a boat ramp was. We picked up the trail again and continued around the lake, pressing to make it to our cars before it was dark. It was getting ever-so-close to 8 pm and Paula and I would have jogged if the kids could keep up. Several times I offered to leave my cell phone with Paula, she and the kids could sit at a picnic table, and I could run to the car--but she refused.

At the next clearing we found the actual site of Fort Yargo--it was a cool, stick-built structure that I didn't even know existed. We filled up our water bottles at the pump and skipped this historic marker, pushing on to the road. We flagged down a jogger and a moment later, a car. Both told us how to reach the main gate (about half a mile ahead) and the lot where we'd parked--which was an additional 2 miles. This is when the kids got nervous. With a tear running down his cheek, Marshall moaned, "I'm tired, Dad. Are we ever going to get out of here?" Most of the others seemed frightened too, with Paula growing increasingly nervous as we were in full dusk. Cooper hopped around in a world of his own--I kept forgetting to watch for him in the chaos of cries--and Halle seemed up for more adventure. We huddled together and prayed for our deliverance, knowing God would lead us and take care of us.

I bustled down to a rented cottage and knocked on the door. A balding man came to the door with his young daughter and I asked if we could have a map. As he went and got one I hoped he'd read my face and offer us a ride. He was very helpful, pointing out our current location, offering to let me keep the map, but he offered no further assistance. I stood outside his closed door, straining to judge where our car was--it wasn't marked on the map, though I recognized things nearby. Then Paula called to me from the road.

She had flagged down a park ranger who gave us walking directions then saw our faces and knew we needed more help than that. Paula pleaded for a ride and so he let her and Cooper climb into the cab of his truck with his gun, while I, the dog, and four kids clambered over the tailgate to sit amidst his boys' trail bikes. Emma was terrified to be so exposed on the open road, but soon relaxed and we all got cool and began to laugh again. The ranger confessed to Paula that we were the third family he'd given a lift to that day, and admitted that the trail we took was very confusing--it was 2.6 miles, but not a loop. At some point you're supposed to recognize it's over, and turn back. New maps and new signs are on their way he promised, as he asked us to come again.

With darkness descended, we got into our car, weary but relieved. We said a prayer of thanks, then hit the nearest McDonald's for a very satisfying treat as we left Winder for the 45-minute drive home.

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