Some new friends invited us to hike Friedly’s Gap. They were a bit taken aback when we had a baby carrier for the baby, but not for the two year old. At first, little guy required carrying, but when he got his groove on, he was unstoppable.
Our companions told us that, during the Civil War, the Union Army trapped a Confederate regiment in Friedly’s Gap. Thinking they had them nicely bottled up, the Union soldiers planned to pick the Confederate soldiers off in the morning, after a nice sleep and breakfast. The Confederate soldiers knew the area, though, and knew that the trail goes through a gap between the mountains. They snuck off while the Union soldiers slept, leaving the little hollow empty. The proximity of history in this part of the country sometimes takes me by surprise.
A stream runs through Friedly’s Gap. Due to the recent snowmelt, it was higher than usual–higher than our friends had ever seen it.
We debated whether to cross a section where the trail was gone and it was just rock to wobbly rock up the chilly stream. JC gamely stuck Silas up on his shoulders. I had Petra in the Ergo, but at least I had my hands free and her weight was close to my center. I tried not to freak out, watching my baby boy gripping his daddy’s shirt, his head a good ten feet above the cold, fast, and rocky water.
I’m including this next picture for perspective. Our friend is a skilled hiker, and even she had a few places where she needed to get close to the ground and use her hands (and so did I). I have no idea how JC did this.
We also crossed a questionable log bridge. Silas walked over it on his own.
We were glad he did–he found the trail “to the top,” which our friends had been looking for every time they had been up there and never found.
Sometimes, I think we take this whole “free range” thing a bit far.