Cabins, Beans and Can Openers
We would utilize Ann's new lifetime senior pass for the Federal Parks, and make this a camping trip as well.
Camping is my jam, so Ann left the camping reservations up to me. We discussed how we were going to break up the journey, and then left the rest up to me.
I did my research on the Recreation.gov app. In Maryland I found Misty Mountain Cabins in the Catoctin Mountain Park. It seemed like a quiet place, and the Intrigue of staying in a cabin built by the Civilian Conservation Corp. had me pulling the trigger on the reservations.
opener!
Over time I manged to make all of our camping reservation online. I was looking forward to this adventure with great excitement.
The time came for us to make the first leg of our journey to Thurmont, Maryland and Misty Mountain Cabins, at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
By the time we rolled into the park it was extremely dark. I could barely see beyond my arm. The instructions told us we had to walk our gear into the cabins from the parkinglot. From the online map it didn’t look far. First mistake! Never trust an online map for proximity.
The walk was more than anticipated. Mrs. Parsons was not having any of that business . I couldn't say that I blamed her either. Tension was mounting. I tried to appease her by breaking the rules, and parking as close to the cabin as possible.
I thought having a cabin near the restrooms was good and considerate planning. The bathrooms were so filled with cobwebs that it felt like you had walked into a bug infesyed hairnet. My seasoned camper was furious. The anx intensified
When we shined a light into our rustic little cabin, bugs scattered to the dark perimeters of our room. Our bunk was loaded with them too. I thought there was going to be a murder in Catoctin's! The happy camper I once knew turned her fury at me. No reasoning or comforting was going to make this go away. It was a sleepless night for both of us.
We reminice of our trip through the Blue Ridge Mountains often. What never gets mentioned is that traumatic night in our Misty Mountain cabin. That night remains as dark and hidden as the night we arrived
Fast forward to April and May of 2025. Ann and I planned an extensive 2 week anniversary trip through the South. There was plenty of room in our itinerary to compromise. We gave each other equal amounts of time to stay and do what interested us.
On our trip, we split up the amount of time we were going to be on the road. Our last leg of the journey was going to be from Maryland to our home in Vermont. We would make it a 2 night stay in Maryland before heading back.
For some reason, I wanted to stay in a cabin in the woods again. There had to be plenty of outdoor activities in order for me to be interested. Thurmont, Maryland and the Catoctin Mountains came up on our search, and seemed to fit the bill.
The PTSD from our last stay in Thurmont was so deeply recessed in my mind that I vaguely recognized the town, or the mountain range, as I did my investigation into our stay.
Besides, there had to be cabins other than the one that caused such Vietnam like PTSD in us.
Cabins were not plentiful but we did find one that had access to Cunninham Falls State Park. All the pictures and reviews looked and sounded good. I booked it.
When we arrived, we were a little dissapointed in it's appearance and proximity to another cabin. The neighboring cabin had two junk cars in the driveway. This reminded me of something we have seen all too often on the back roads of rural Vermont. I could sence Ann's concern.
When we opened the door, Ann paused before commenting. The pause had me concerned that this was not to her liking.
A familiar feeling was beginning to emerge from the dark recesses of my mind.
Ann entered the bedroom and discovered that the window facing the neighbor was uncovered. The tone of displeasure in her voice had my ears back.
Meanwhile I am in the living room, quietly killing insects with a napkin, hoping she doesn't see or hear me.
Anxiety swept over my body like a wet, heavy blanket. Wait; that was me sweating profusely. The covert attempt to kill the pesky insects was clearly my way of trying to prevent another Misty Mountain meltdown.
Ann spotted a wasp flying against the window. I feel like I'm the one who is going to have the meltdown. It was the defining moment of our stay, when Ann calmly asked me to kill the bee in the window.
The night at Misty Mountain Cabins slithered back into the dark recesses of my mind.
It wasn't until the next day as we were exploring the Catoctin Mountain Park in daylight, that we came to the full realization of where we were, and where we had been.
an authentic moonshine stillTo overcome the trauma, we decided to locate the cabin during daylight hours and relive the moment with some humor.
Reliving the whole ordeal made us gratefu that our latest cabin had a cook stove. We had eaten out so many times on this trip, that staying home and cooking dinner was appealing to us now. That is saying something since Ann prefers not to cook.
We went grocery shopping for some simple supplies. It doesn't get any simpler than beans in a can. As we left the grocery store I began to question whether our place had a can opener or not. I reasoned that it must have.
We arrived and began to prepare dinner. I looked, but I could not find a can opener anywhere. It was time to play McGiver. I looked everywhere with my imagination in high gear. Ann pulled out of her purse a Leatherman. Where she got it I have no idea, nor do I have an idea as to why she would have one in the first place.
Ann unfolded a small saw that I thought would work. I poked a hole in the cover with the screwdriver, and began to saw in a circular direction. It was a struggle, but I was making process. As the mangled cover became free, Ann exclaimed, I found a can opener!
We laughed so hard that tears came from our eyes. It was obviously that we were exhausted from the trip. That realization alone made us laugh even more. Seeing the tears in one another's eyes caused us to laugh hysterically.
What a night for cabins, beans and can openers!
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