Big storms rolling through Western, PA pushed us to my hometown of Cumberland, MD to find some sunshine. I lived there until I was about 9, and it’s nice to detour through town to appreciate it as an adult.
We climbed the Cumberland Narrows up over the north ridge; not a maintained trail by any means but trafficked enough to find our way. Took turns holding the dogs far enough from the edge to keep them out of peril. At the top of the Narrows is Lover’s Leap, which has a Romeo and Juliet-esque backstory, link below for more.
Late summer in our region is a precarious time to camp; some nights can be downright uncomfortably hot, and we were specifically trying to escape the heat wave of the weekend, so we headed towards the closest peak we could get to by sunset: the Laurel Summit. It didn’t take much planning, and I wanted to test out some new gear, so without much thought we headed east.
The folks at Tri-County ATV sure know how to throw a party. Since 2000, the group (which is sponsored by the local fire and rescue crew of Heilwood, PA) has owned/leased over 1000 acres with limitless trails get muddy on. Twice a year, they hold an open house and for a small fee, anyone can come get their machines in the mud.
Annual snow trip time! This year, the gang headed to Aspen, CO to partake in the epically, pillowy-fresh snow of the Rocky Mountains. We found time to hit up 3 parks in 3 days, the quintessential: Aspen, Aspen Highlands, and Snowmass. We stayed at a little VRBO in Woody Creek and threw ourselves down the mountain for an epic long weekend.
The holy grail of the process. The tangible proof. The gateway.
One thing is for sure: The Italians are an opaque bunch, at least when it comes to citizenship.
When I last wrote about the IDC process, it was February 2013. I had received a strange envelope from Italy. It contained voting ballots, the first on-paper proof of my Citizenship. Gratifying, yes. But I was slightly surprised that I never received any official proof that my application was accepted. No ‘Benvenuto in Italia’. No fancy, embossed letter recognizing the arduous path I walked. Nothing to frame and hang next to my diplomas.