After a cold and snowy winter, the bus has been begging to break out of hibernation and hit the roads. Eighty degrees at the beginning of April, I am happy to oblige.

We used this three day weekend to venture a few hours away to the Laurel Highlands, a wilderness with endless opportunities for fun. We were lucky enough to be invited by new friends for “Rafting the Stoney”. Once I googled what that meant, I realized that we had to take advantage of this seemingly once in a lifetime opportunity for our family although apparently a once or twice per weekend opportunity for our friends. Masters of whitewater, our friends seem to raft in the way we camp; Every chance we get. 

Pennsylvania is packed with beautiful state parks tucked away in scenic forests all over the state. We found the campground at Laurel Hill State Park to be the perfect getaway start to the camping season. We spent the night Friday hiking, biking, and S’moresing in our faithful bus. On Saturday we woke up ready for a new adventure, each kid somewhere on the spectrum between excited and nervous for the whitewater adventure ahead. With Fitz being on the extreme end of excited and unphased by any fear, and the more cautious Everest falling right in the middle, we excitedly met our friends near Johnstown for a rafting trip down the Stoney Creek River. Within minutes we found ourselves crashing through rapids and over rocks, our borrowed gear soaked from the more exciting rapids. Although, scared at first, by the time our lunch break at the side of some rapids ended, Maple was ready to never go on a calm lake again, the unexpectedness of the river now more her style. The trip ended with big smiles and hopes of going again soon. It was my first time being introduced to the previously hidden world of Pennsylvania whitewater rafting an I hope we performed well enough to get invited back.

In the evening we retreated back to camp and enjoyed reading by the fire while the kids played and biked. In the morning, I had planned a detour that had sat in my bucket list for far too long. 

The Flight 93 Memorial pays homage to the forty hero’s who on September 11, 2001, made the choice to fight, one of the most honorable and heroic decisions in American history. Having just been hijacked by terrorists while on their way to San Francisco, the passengers of flight 93 began to contact loved ones and officials and became aware of what had recently unfolded at the Twin Towers and the Pentagon. The passengers were told that if they just remained calm that everyone would be okay. Forty strangers, looking to each other for strength decided to make stand. The museum obviously forces you to think what role and decision you would have made. The passengers knew that they would likely die trying but that even in trying they could save countless lives wherever the plane was heading.  The fight that commenced is hard to contemplate, the passengers seem to have successfully overtaken the terrorists and burst into the flight cabin, the struggle lead to the terrorists’ decision to abort their plan and send the plane crashing straight down to earth over a field in Pennsylvania, a mere 20 minutes from their Washington DC destination.  It’s hard to remember how chaotic and uncertain the morning was on 9/11 but the Flight 93 Memorial Museum does well tackling the difficult job of retelling the story of the day that changed us forever. One particular section that will forever leave a lasting impression on my heart was being able to listen to recordings that these hero’s left for their loved ones right before fighting back. They knew what they had to do and the likely outcome, but they still spent their last minutes letting loved ones know that they will always love them. After the museum, we walked down to the actual crash site and read the names of each legend from the Wall of Names. We then visited the tower of voices which is constructed in a way that its large wind chimes seem to sing in the breeze. It is hard to explain the importance or the events of 9/11 to our kids but I think they could see it in our faces. They knew this place was different and special. They asked many  questions and we did our best to answer them.  

Eventually we arrived home and, lucky for us, the Easter Squirrel had already visited. We hunted for eggs and got charged up on sugar just as the holiday intended.