Thanksgiving: Can't Wait 'Til Next Year

I'm so thankful for Thanksgiving. I look forward to it every year. We all do in my family. It's my second favorite holiday, I think. For many years now, it has been our tradition to go on a camping trip for Thanksgiving. It started with my parents, my sister and brother, and me, often a handful of dogs, too. Now that my sister and I have families of our own, and my parents have adopted another child, we are bringing up a new generation on this tradition. We have camped in many places over the years...Torreya State Park (FL), Bear Lake (FL), Markham Park (FL), Kolomoki Mounds State Park (GA). This year, we decided to try a new location that was somewhat midway between us and my sister's new home in North Carolina. After much internet research and deliberation, we picked High Falls State Park in Georgia.

Now, I want you to understand that I really do enjoy camping and being with my family....And I did enjoy some aspects of the trip this year. That being said, I must tell you that we won't be going back to High Falls again.

Part of the problem was that it was a lovely setting. Huh? No, really. Because the campgrounds were nestled among beautiful forests with bright fall foliage and a sparkling river dotted with picturesque waterfalls, it was a magnet to every redneck and his brother's RV. Um... excuse me, did we take a wrong turn and accidentally drive into a trailer park? Nope. Welcome to nature. A place where you can enjoy all of the comforts of home: blaring televisions, football parties, noisy neighbors, drunken karaoke, and the smell of gasoline fumes drifting through the air. These are just a few of the experiences we were presented with during our stay at High Falls.

After finding a decent site to settle in to, we put up our tent in a leafy spot next to the trees. In approximately 2.5 seconds a park ranger shows up, telling us we have to move the tent.

"Where?" I ask, looking around at the already crowded site.

"Right where your car is. You have to put tents on the pad. Campground rules," he said with a shrug.

I glance down at the gravel driveway the man just referred to as a "pad" and contemplate the idea of having to snuggle my head on jagged rocks the size of ping pong balls. "You're serious? We're supposed to sleep on rocks?"

"Sorry. It's the state standards," he said apologetically and climbed back into his white truck.

Apparently, those standards include a metal fire ring, a picnic table, water and electric hook ups, and a gravel living space. All wonderful for RV people. Completely rediculous for tent campers. Seth and I scanned the area for anyone who might be watching and then meticulously scraped most of the gravel to the side with our shoes. We covered the spot with piles of leaves before moving our tent to the "pad".

Aside from all of the things that will bring us to search for a new campground next year, we did have some fun at High Falls.

Fishing...

Exploring...

Hiking...

Eating...

And of course, sitting...