Have you heard of rock hunting? It’s a fun, new hobby that’s taking over our town. I was ready to get in on the action, but wound up alone and crying in the woods instead.
It’s simple. You walk around town looking for painted rocks. Pick up the rock, snap a picture and post it to the local Facebook rock group. If you want to contribute you can paint rocks, too. We’ve found masterpieces on tiny rocks while others, like my kids, paint stick figures and shapeless blobs. Either way, it’s like finding treasure every time we find a painted rock.
A popular place to hide and find rocks is in the trails behind our neighborhood. It connects to other trail systems in neighboring towns. You can find hikers, bikers and horseback riders all along the system.
There’s a popular trail in our neighborhood, Gnome’s Trail, where several gnomes and painted rocks are hidden. As a family we’ve walked this trail several times enjoying seeing the gnomes and more recently, collecting and re-hiding painted rocks.
I wanted to take advantage of a rare warm, sunny October day and decided to venture out on the Gnome Trail with my 4 year old, Niko.
I text The Finn a few minutes into the hike to ask which way we should go. I know we walk portions of a few different trails before we reach the Gnome Trail. He assures me I know the correct route. Whew.
Success! We find the trail and begin walking at a glacial speed to ensure we don’t miss a rock or gnome. We finish up 30 minutes later. Niko is happy because we found several rocks. He can’t wait to show his sister.
We exit the Gnome Trail and I can’t remember which way we need to turn to head back home. Oh no. I text The Finn. I wait five minutes, but he doesn’t reply. Niko starts to cry he needs to poop. I pull up a map on my phone and decide we need to turn left to head back home.
Twenty minutes later we’re on a trail still trying to find our way out. I determine we’re lost as I tell Niko to squeeze his cheeks together because he’s crying he can’t hold it in much longer. I take a mental inventory of what I have in my pockets. If he really needs to go, could he poop in the bushes and wipe his behind with this half snotty tissue I have in my pocket? Or maybe he can use one of these big leaves?
Three frantic text messages to The Finn later and he finally replies with screenshots of the trail that are of no help to me. He has to leave his meeting to call me and help me figure out exactly where I am. Did I fail to mention we’ve lived in this neighborhood for three years?
We have a vague idea of where I’m at, yet I can’t find my location on the map on my phone. I’m in tears because I’m frustrated at my extreme lack of sense of direction and not paying attention when we’ve hiked this trail many times before. Niko has now added he’s starving to his list of very vocal complaints, which makes me feel even worse. (If anyone was worried about the animals on the trail, just hike with us. We’re so loud we scare everything away!)
Following The Finn’s directions, we’re able to exit the trail in 10 minutes. My Fitbit is buzzing because I’ve already reached my 10,000 daily step amount. A 45-60 minute hike turned into an unexpected nearly two hour adventure.
We drudge back to the house and sit down to a big lunch and talk about our adventure. Niko didn’t seem to remember any of the bad stuff when Suvi came home, though. He proudly showed her all the rocks we picked up. I, on the other hand, led our family on the next hike to ensure I was paying attention and learning my way around…or trying.
