The Billy Goat Trail out in Great Falls, MD was kind of a rite of passage for our older nephews. Starting from the time they were toddlers, we frequently took them rock scrambling on the first part of the trail, gradually increasing the length of the hikes over the years until that magical day when they were ready to do the full circuit. But because dogs are not allowed on the trail, it's been thirteen years since Heidi and I have done the route ourselves, and so, continuing our practice of doing things we wouldn't do if we had a dog, we headed out there this morning.
Perhaps a beautiful Sunday in October was not the best time to revisit this particular old haunt; it is one of the most popular outdoor activities in the region, and the tow path was already packed at 11:30 when we turned our boots toward the trail head.
But, as we walked, conversations drifted through the air with the falling leaves.
I heard you're going Euro-skiing...
The plane exploded at the neck...
I sent my revisions in Friday...
He hasn't actually said he wouldn't accept the results...
I think Shakespeare said it best...
And we heard so many languages along the way-- English and Spanish, of course, but lots of Italian, some German, Russian, Swedish, Chinese, Korean, Urdu, French, and I think Greek, too.
So we patiently scrambled along behind and beside and between our fellow hikers, enjoying the views that the slower pace gave us the chance to take in. People were mostly friendly, and we snapped a few group photos for folks as we waited to rock-hop across a congested section.
The worst bottleneck of the day was at the famous 50 foot traverse. As we stood at the bottom waiting our turn to climb the granite wall from river to ridge, I looked up at the line ahead of us and back at the one behind us, and my patience began to thin.
"Oh my gosh!" I said to Heidi, "This must be what it's like to climb Everest!"
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