Once more into the breech. Or beech.

My butt has healed, thank you.   It was not nearly as bad as one would expect.  And yes, I have a helmet now.

Because I'm not so much with the learning, I chaparoned another field trip with Julianna's class.  This time, we were off to Thorpewood which promised less lengthy trails and thus, less likelihood that I'd have to eat the weakest child to survive.  Nonetheless, I brought 2 liters of water, a compass, and a whistle. The school, who apparently saw I was on the roster, provided two way radios. Forgot my earplugs, though.  That becomes important later.

So we started our tour in the main building which is absolutely gorgeous and if you have reason to get married in Frederick County, I highly recommend it.  Provided that you are a hippy and so are your guests b/c they have composting toilets.  Which are cool, but probably not for the super-chic set.  Oh, and I can't really recommend having your guests peer down the toilets with flashlights, like we did.  It's not festive.  But very green!  Hooray for compost! 

After our introduction to decomposition and worms, we were turned out to hike the grounds until lunch time.   The map was clearly labeled "Not to Scale."  Which, why bother?  Why not just line up drawings of the stuff on the site and say "This stuff is here somewhere, in more or less this order.  Good luck!"  I was missing two of my hikers from Sugarloaf (only two?  you say.  Well, one of the ones I had again was my daughter and the other was her best friend who is very loyal).  I had a group of 6, one of which, I was bummed to note, was The Talker.  I'd sat next to her on the bus to Sugarloaf and she had chattered at me the whole time.  On the trip to Thorpewood, she sang--dramatically--and did those handclappy "Miss Mary Mack" things that still make me feel like a loser b/c I was always the kid that just held up her hands motionlessly and let the cool girl do her clappity pattycakey thing.  But now I'm cool and that girl is a big fat loser.  Nyah. Oh yes, the story. Right. So The Talker gets her hands on a map. She immediately proclaims the right path for our group. She is very bossy about it. It should be noted at this point that she wasn't winning a lot of Trail Master points for showing up in a miniskirt and not having a waterbottle. The other girls were really easy going and very "okay whatever" about the whole thing. They were happy to be outside on a pretty day with the promise of strawberries in the garden when we reached it. The map suggested that the path we needed was to the left. It was, of course, to the right. Fine. So we set off up the path. The girls ran like deer, I called them back because there appeared to be 3 or 4 paths in about the same area, yet the map showed one. Who in the hell makes trail maps? Drunken sailors? Corporate types that hate pachouli smelling hikers? I mean, damn, how hard can it be? Anyway. The Talker was being seriously bossy about which way to go. She was annoying me loads, and turning into quite a PITA, but the other girls were cool with following her commands, so fine. Off they bounded, leaving Julianna and Ally--my battle scarred buddies from Sugarloaf--to worry about whether this was the right way. Would we be forced to wander aimlessly again? Then the shout that they'd found the garden. The map made it look like we'd be walking for ages, in reality, it wasn't much farther than my lawn. It just zigzagged through the trees a lot.

So they descended on the garden, we soon saw the other groups coming too, and everyone ate strawberries. It was, it must be said, a lovely change to hear the voices of the other groups the whole time. At Sugarloaf we did not see a soul from when we split up until Mike came to us with the water. I had to repeat the "They said a FEW strawberries!" rule several times. It is hard to stop at just two barely ripe strawberries, apparently. Okay, so garden examined, I dragged them to the chestnut grove. I was very excited to see these back-bred blight resistant chestnut trees. I think the loss of the American chestnut is very upsetting and how cool is it that maybe one day they'll be back? Less cool than I thought, it would seem. So we moved on. Because one field over? OMG PONIES!1! There were 4 Icelandic ponies with their little blunt bang haircuts and fuzzy stout bodies. Chestnut trees. Please. PITA, however, began to grow annoyed. We had trail to cover, people. Let's GO! She was very, very certain that we should take the left turn. The other girls thought we ought to go straight and they just kind of headed that way. "You GUYS! THIS way!" They came along and we followed Julie Hitler McCoy into...the parking lot. So I took the map and the compass and showed them that the other girls were, in fact right. And I never ever said, "In your FACE!" I also did not correct the girls who said, "SEE? We were right!" PITA huffed "Well if I'm so terrible at directions, why don't you just pick me up and carry me!" and burst into tears. Then she stopped walking. I went back to her and said, with utmost empathy, "Suck it up, soldier, we have to walk." We found the fire ring that was the landmark we sought (like 50 yards away, instead of the half mile the map hinted). The girls decided to sit and chat and talk about camp experiences and be little girls. Except You Know Who. She got very annoyed and muttered under her breath and finally grouched "Are we just going to sit here all DAY?" Her group mates were growing mutinous, but they rallied. They consulted the map. I forced them to use the compass. We headed into the forest for a hike that could be hours or minutes, who can tell? We'd been warned that in addition to the poor scale of the map, the trails were poorly blazed (hooray!) so we were cautious. I kept pointing out various cool plants and fungi and the girls--except the Talker--were impressed and curious and totally delightful. SHE, on the other hand, kept pissing "Come ON!" Finally, I said "Look. This is not The Amazing Race. This is a nature walk. We are here to see nature, not stomp on it in a grim march to the finish. There is no trophy. There are no cheering crowds. Chill OUT." Huff. She kept walking really fast.

Then Julianna twisted her ankle. We all stopped to take care of her, test the ankle, etc. Then I looked up. PITA was gone. The other girls didn't know where she was. Crap. If I actually lose a kid, they are NEVER going to let me chaperone again. Damn her. Luckily, we had those two way radios. "Yellow team. We have lost [PITA]. She got too far ahead and now we don't see her." Flurry of radio activity, she turns up in another group. Phew. And then, thankfully, time to go get lunch. When we met up with PITA again, she was still peeved. I told the story and the teachers were in no way surprised, so I'm not banned from the bus. We gave her a little talk about how to be a part of a group. And then we fed the ponies. And then we went home. So? Anyone want me to take their kids hiking?