Dixie

I hope in my excitement of moving to Alaska I haven't implied I don't love Alabama. I do love Alabama. Alabama is home. Me and Alabama go way back.

First came "The Woods." As children, my sister and I romped till our hearts content on the 40 acres that surrounded our country house. We were never bored out there. We proudly told our friends that we lived in "The Woods" knowing full well the idea of having no neighbors other than our Aunt and Uncle, sounded foreign to the kids who lived around "The Club." While there was no official sign or record book title, "The Woods" earned its capital letters and will always evoke memories of childhood for me.

We had dogs, cats, and chickens that freely roamed in and around our backyard. My sister and I would often get so dirt caked, Mom would make us strip down on the wrap around porch before we were allowed entry. So our hair didn't get wrapped around the motor of our doom buggy, we'd tie it up in a bun or wear toboggans. Dad fearlessly rode us up and down Pleasant Valley Road and Steele Station until we'd need hosing down. Santa Claus brought my sister and I a three wheeler before I was old enough to drive it. Years later and after running up several trees, into a car, and over my sister's foot, she declared herself the sole driver. I hung on tightly to her little waist as we named every tree and each mound of dirt we traveled past or over. When I was without her, I bravely ran the course we created time and time again. We had a home out there on Pleasant Valley Road and I can still hear that old screen door creaking open then slamming shut behind me as I made my way into the great outdoors.

The river and creeks that run through Etowah County have been a part of my life since I was a small child. I've been seining along the murky banks of the Coosa and in a snake filled creek behind a little white church off some county road. My Dad and I frequented all sorts of creeks and pockets of the river with rods in tow. I'd quickly tire of fishing but I never got tired of hanging out along the creek or river bed.

Once after a big rain, the family loaded up in our flat bottom boat and let the creek push us downstream in flooded conditions. We were powerless against the swiftly moving water and found ourselves jammed against fallen trees and creek debris. Knowing that the trip was a little more dangerous than my parents expected and working with them to pry ourselves from the force of the creek and the trees that blocked our path, has a way of making a kid feel very useful. I'll never forget that trip down the creek.

Whenever Dad got a chance, he loved to pull up his Duck Head shorts and tan under the scorching Alabama sun while floating on a tube. His love of the river and sun carried my sister and I to many great swimming holes. The waters around here are so green, I could never see my feet beneath me, but that was part of the intrigue. I can see my Dad now, chest deep in water, feeling around the river bottom with his feet, going under, then bringing up a clod of earth with him. He'd throw back his treasure most every time. I'm still not sure if he ever found any keepers but I would never trade those few seconds between seeing the look of confusion mixed with curiosity on his face and seeing the mysterious object in the light of the sun.

When my parents busied themselves building the house on the river, I walked the banks. I collected rocks and river shells, swung on ropes that hung precariously over the river, got in a a flat bottom boat with my sister and chartered new territory to an island in our new backyard, and found a dead baby alligator and beat it's head till it's teeth fell out for proof. I also explored the street side of our new house by foot and named every black cow in a field along the way.

When Dad could break away from rock laying and pipe fitting, I'd tag along when he visited his good buddy's river spot. I'd get together with the buddy's son and the rest of the boys. We'd spend the entire day as true blue river rats. They had all the toys a river rat could ask for - boats, wave runners, ski equipment - and lucky for me they didn't really mind a girl tagging along.

As a teenager, I drove throughout rural Northeast Alabama, with windows down and blonde hair flying, just taking it all in. The 35mm camera on continual loan from the photographers I worked for, was my constant companion. I discovered a spot in the town of Littleton, Alabama despite several no trespassing signs, and marveled at the hidden world my Dad had always told me about. I repelled off several dangerous cliffs not being completely sure of my knot. I've come home with camp fire smells clinging to my hair too many times to count.

Then I met Chuck....
Chuck's need for adventure fed my own and I am grateful God let us live through them. We've climbed under bridges on catwalks during the dark of night, jumped off cliffs into only partially known depths, canoed creeks that were slow moving and some that were so swift I got out, spun in continual 360's in a mud soaked Toyota, been to every haunted house, barn, and forest within 100 miles of here for 8 or so consecutive years, canoed on the Coosa River early enough to see the sunrise while singing, "Good Morning America How Are Ya", climbed water towers with leaning ladders and fire towers with missing steps, frolicked and trespassed on sand dunes we dubbed "Dukes of Hazard Land", camped out on our island on the Coosa to celebrate our 5th year anniversary, fished and sunned from a spot we had to scale a large rock to reach, and canoed creeks quietly enough to not scare off the cows who were stopping by for a drink. With him I've learned to throw a cast net like no other girl I know and shoot a pistol good enough to win a sharp shooter award. We not only share a love for one another, but for the land and river that surround us as well.

Cheeks slowed us down a little, but we've regained our adventuring momentum by reworking our adventures to include her. Cheeks is part of an elite group called "The Adventure Scouts" which consists of she and I, honorary members, her Granna and Aunt Sunny, and a special guest who conducts workshops when needed, named her Daddy. She has proven that she has grown into a full blown kid by hiking along side us at Cherokee Rock Village. Cheeks has a what she calls her "favorite woods" out in our backyard. During the Spring and Summer, Cheeks can be found on a pier with her Dad. He fishes for crappie while she makes minnow friends in an algae filled tub. When she's not hugging her dear minnow friends, she can be found with us of the v-hull boat that once belonged to Chuck's Dad. We've claimed it as our own and spent many hours on that hot aluminum.

These days, Cheeks and I walk the banks together. I tell her stories of the "The Root Children" who dared to peak under the banks of the Coosa without fully believing in the village that is booming under there. As we walk, she collects rocks and river shells. Cheeks and I often "Renew the Coosa" by canoeing in and out of sloughs picking up garbage along the way. Chuck and I have taken her to the dam and given her lessons on electricity and fish in oxygenated water. Cheeks loves swimming in the Coosa and in her own way, has expressed that she will miss it deeply. She asked me to assist in making a sign for her bedroom door that reads, "I believe I will like Alaska" because she is a trooper.

As the old ball and chain and I have gotten older we've come to the realization that:
#1 We are not immortal and our jumping form cliff days are over. We got a kid to think about for cryin' aloud.
#2 There is a such thing as property lines.
#3 There is only so far the 1975 Johnson motor that is currently unable to exceed speeds of 5mph will take us. With a job that has no promise or even hope of ladder climbing, we aren't able to adventure much further than that old broke down motor will take us...and I ain't just talking about river adventures folks.

So, it's to Alaska for us! with God willing, many more adventures to follow.