Last week I took the first hike of summer with a visiting friend and Tuck. We did about 9 miles straight up the Blue Ridge from Sugar Hollow to the Blue Ridge Parkway and back down.

Of all the mountains I’ve lived near and climbed, all across this country, there is something so comforting about the Blue Ridge. Probably that feeling comes from growing up here, from these being my “native” mountains. The hike we took last week began as one I used to take with high school friends, up past a swimming hole where we’d go to cool off in the summer. I think there is something very sweet and wonderful about walking, as a 34-year-old, the same trails I walked at 17—only this time with a friend made when I was 24 and the dog I never dreamed of having as a teenager.

Up near the ridgeline it was still spring, and the wild azaleas were fragrantly blooming.

The mountain laurel, with its buds that remind me of just-exploded fireworks, had yet to flower.

I was delighted to see several thriving clumps of pink lady slippers. These native orchids take many years to go from seed to blooming maturity, and can live to be twenty or more years old. These couldn’t have been more perfect specimens.

We traversed a lot of good creek and river crossings…

…which made me glad of my choice to hike in sandals, despite our dirty paws!

A friend and Tuck and I took a long hike up to Blue Hole and further up the mountain to Shenandoah National Park.

Tuck in one of the swimming holes along the North Fork of the Morman’s River. It hasn’t rained in a long time, and the water was low and crystal clear, the rivers easy to cross. This is the first and last time during the hike that Tuck got totally submerged. He figured out pretty fast that mountain streams in late November aren’t the same temperature as they are in summer!

The last of the fall color. Just about all the leaves are down now, and it’s looking very wintery.

Blue Hole. This is where my friends and I did most of our swimming growing up. With the water snakes, timber rattlers, copperheads and ticks. Rural childhood. You can jump off those big rocks below and not hit the bottom of the hole.

Yesterday I gave away one of the roosters that hatched this past summer. He’s turned into a handsome guy, but there’s no way I need three roosters in a small coop. This guy went home with a jolly lady and her young son—found via CraigsList—to rule over his own flock of hens. So he’s on to a better life, and I am happy about it. I knew he would be well-treated when his new owner asked what he prefers for treats! HA!

In the morning, I headed to the private beach near my cottage to give Tucker his first glimpse of the sea. As he does with most any body of water, he waded right in, regarding the small waves with first puzzlement and then delight. The seagulls bobbing further from the shore were most attractive, and if I hadn’t called him back I am sure he would have been on his way to Nova Scotia.

This beach was made up of very sharp, very slippery rocks, which were in turn covered by razory barnacles. I worried about Tuck ripping up his feet or me twisting an ankle—neither ideal ways to begin a couple of days of hiking—so I cut our time on this stretch short and headed in to Acadia National Park.

I briefly stopped at the visitors’ center to pay my $10 admission and chat up the rangers about a good hike. Some of the Acadia hikes involve iron ladders over granite cliffs, and though Tucker’s scrambling skills are improving, his lack of opposable thumbs might make those routes challenging. We settled on a nice, easy starter hike: Gorham Mountain to Sand Beach.

Tuck was so thrilled to be off leash in the wilderness that he was literally flying along the trail, racing ahead then back to check on me and then back out ahead. For every mile I did, he did at least three. The trail started with a nice granite path—which I would soon learn was a signature of Acadia’s trails.The way was marked with blue blazes and rock cairns.

Sand Beach, our destination, in the distance:

We encountered perhaps ten groups of hikers on this trail. We were the only solo woman/dog pairing, and I was asked to snap countless portraits of happy trail companions. I must have looked approachable, or interruptable. Alas, no one offered to take my picture, or my dog’s, which I find sociologically very interesting. Does one need to be traveling with another human to warrant the making of a photographic memory? Or any memory at all?

I knew the minute I stepped on this trail that I was in for a treat. The combination of blue ocean, pink granite, inky green evergreens, white birch, golden beech, late fall colors and blue sky added up to my dream hiking combination. Every sense was full to its max and I was loving it. I’ve never hiked through deciduous forest with a sea view, so my paradigm was shifting with every step.

Truly one of the most enjoyable walks of my life.

We made our way down to Sand Beach, where Tucker graduated to slightly larger waves. He’d run after and chase them as they broke, take a tumble as he was rolled in the surf and then right himself, shake off, and look around, confused and a bit crestfallen that his toy had disintegrated beneath his feet. Thank goodness there’s always the next set headed toward the shore. I truly believe he could play in the ocean all day. It’s the happiest I have ever seen him.

The ridge in the photo above is what we just hiked: Gorham Mountain.

Up next, our adventures in Acadia continue with an oceanfront evening hike.