Now & Then: Two old geezers and a great big rock

Our great adventure would have been more appropriate 30 years ago. No, make that 40 years — or more.

My brother Ron and I had eaten lunch at the Franklinville Diner and were fueled up for action. 

After spending time at the nearby Little League ballfield reliving our glory days, we moved on down to the Deep River State Trail.

There, at Riverside Park, the Deep River footbridge beckoned to us. On the other side of the river was the trail to Faith Rock.

“Have you ever been to Faith Rock?” I asked Ron.

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied.

So this was his chance to visit the site of Andrew Hunter’s supposed 1782 ride on Bay Doe down the massive rock in his escape from David Fanning. A trail led to the top.

Before I continue this sordid story, I must tell you that Ron had just turned 81 three days before. I, his little brother, am a full 19 months younger, a mere 79 years of youth.

Struggling up the steep ramp of the footbridge should have told us we were in over our heads. But coming down to the opposite side of the river put any such thoughts out of our heads.

We found Deep River Trail signage and continued, with Ron following my experienced lead. Unfortunately, I chose the lower trail, which could be described as less than primitive.

This trail took us over rocky outcroppings that demanded the strength and balance that had left our bodies years before. When we weren’t stepping over roots we were climbing rocks without the advantage of ropes, safety harnesses and helmets.

We came to a large rock but I told Ron it was Fake Rock. “This isn’t Faith,” I said. He had remained several yards behind me, obviously hesitant to continue but too proud to let his little brother outdo him.

After struggling through what seemed like another five miles of rocks and roots, we came upon the bottom of Faith Rock. We looked up the great mound to the top, which was almost straight up.

I saw another trail and told Ron I would explore it to see where it went. After more yards than I want to admit, I found that it was a much friendlier path for 80-year-olds.

To our glee, the new trail took us near the top of Faith Rock, where we rested our emaciated bodies while looking at the river below. We wondered if Andrew’s horse, Bay Doe, peered down the rock and neighed, “I ain’t goin’ down there.”

Coming down on the easier trail, we decided we could hike some more. 

I called Ginny and said we were ready for the AT, meaning the Appalachian Trail. Ginny and I had watched “A Walk in the Woods” with Robert Redford and Nick Nolte, two old guys who started out clumsily on the AT. Don’t know why they came to my mind.

Our “AT” was the Deep River Trail to the Bush Creek bridge. It followed the old railroad track, which is level and well-maintained.

We made it to the metal bridge, admiring the ponded-up waters behind the dam. The trail continued but I said I wasn’t going to Cedar Falls. Ron was ready and happy to head back to the car and continue our travels in his airconditioned sedan.

I think I must have lost five pounds, sweating enough to drench my shirt. Amazingly, we were able to hike to Faith Rock and back without having to call 911.

I told Ron about the time a few years ago that I hiked up to the rock while working on a story. During that laborious time, it came to me that if I had an accident, I may not be found for days.

Hence the rule: Never hike alone, or with someone old enough to be a covictim.

Larry Penkava is a writer for Randolph Hub. 

Contact: 336-302-2189, larrypenkava@gmail.com.