Travel with a Toddler: Table Rock, SC

 

Travel with a Toddler: infant edition :')

We hiked Table Rock in South Carolina when my daughter was under a year old. We lived in SC shortly and this was the only major hike that we accomplished. Calling it "major" is an understatement, honestly. It was a very emotional experience for me. I was still struggling from postpartum depression, had severe anxiety, was extremely insecure of how my body looked, and overall just didn't feel good. This hike changed my outlook on myself and the world around me.

Table Rock face as seen from the road. Even now it's insane putting into perspective how small and insignificant we all are, compared to natural beauties such as this. But this isn't meant to get that deep.

BRB, I'm just getting emotional over how small and baby she is here. She was just barely sitting up on her own at this age. Bye. Whoever's cutting onions over here needs to give me a break.

The start of the hike was pretty easy, as most are. A distraction, I suppose, from the absolute wreckage that was about to be dealt to my body. I don't know for sure if I have asthma - I don't have a history of it - but when I do anything uphill for any amount of time, I am absolutely wheezing, keeled over, fighting for my life. I'm not exaggerating. We had to stop and take a break every 20 minutes because I was blacking out. 

Governor's Rock is 2.6 miles from the bottom; to put it into perspective, there's a halfway shelter 1.5 miles up, and the rock face is 3.5 miles up. The Overlook, well worth the extra 0.1 miles, is at 3.6 miles. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

This is Governor's Rock. Freaking beautful. This was one of many times where I stopped and felt my mortality, my insignificance, my humanity, in a whole new light. The fact that billions of other people are experiencing everyday life at the exact same moment as me? Abolutely mind blowing. I can't think about it for too long.

In a previous post, I mentioned that my spouse is the type of person who wakes up in the morning and would immediately gear up for an all-day hike if he could... this is Exhibit A. What you don't see is my cherry-red face behind the camera, panting so hard I can barely keep the phone still enough to snap a photo, just grateful to still be alive at this point.

Table Rock is purely elevation gain. The entire 3.5 miles is pure exhaustion. Not to mention this was summertime in South Carolina. If I wasn't slathered in sunscreen, I wouldn't be able to tell you with any amount of confidence that the redness wasn't just sunburn, that not all of the blood in my body had just rushed straight to my face. 

From start to finish, this took us about 5 hours, which is pretty average. We stopped at the Overlook for a little bit to recharge and enjoy the view. An older gentleman talked with us, commending us for bringing our daughter with us, sharing snippets of wisdom from a veteran hiker. As soon as we were out of earshot, I burst into tears. 

I told my husband it was because I felt embarrassed, for the number of times we had to stop, for feeling like I had slowed him down, thinking I didn't deserve to be on the trails because of how big I had gotten. That may have been partially true, but I was really overcome by emotion at the view at the top. Again, I was hit with such a strong feeling of impermanance. 

One day I will die. We all do. I doubt I will be remembered or revered in any way. I try not to leave a huge footprint. It was a real "Circle of Life" moment for me, standing at the top of the highest moutnain I had ever climbed, with an older gentleman who I had just met, my spouse, and my infant daughter. It's hard to put into words exactly how I felt, but it was intense. Spiritual, almost. 

As much as I detested every step I took, in the end it was worth it. There are a few things in life as incredible as standing at the top of a mountain and looking out on the vastness below. I can only imagine how incredible it must have been prior to being stolen.