One Shared Adventure, Of Sorts...

   I have been reading a book on my Kindle that was written by a man who, up in his 70s, decided to hike the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada. The book is entitled Over The Hill, by Jim and Zhita Rea.

   Now he did not do it all in one shot, but hiked some each summer from 2004 through 2010, and even had to go back in 2011 to complete one section of the Sierras that he could not do because of a deep snow pack as he worked his way north in May.

   Now, most of you know that I am drawn to accounts of people who take off toward a goal to accomplish something, especially physical, and persevere to its completion, sometimes against all odds.

   But the part that struck home to me as I finished reading were the comments by both the Jim and his wife, who was his support vehicle and resupplier. Zhita made it possible for him to hike by transporting him to trailheads and picking him up some days later at road crossings, and taking him to a motel or some place to get some rest for a day or sometimes two.

   They both said that, the fact they had done it together, and he could not have done it on his own, had grown them closer together, a result of the shared journey and a shared goal in completion.

   That resonated with me because of the shared journey Mayre Lou and I took when we photographed all 159 courthouses in Georgia back a few years ago. Now ours was not the physically demanding haul that the hikers had, but we did it together, and we shared the fun and adventure of traveling over the state for 4 years or so, to complete our quest. We still talk about places and events that happened to us along the way.

   I remember that we began our project close to home, with a short trip down to Woodbine to take a shot of the Camden County Courthouse, the first one. We thought this was a snap, we can do this, and then the counties got further away.

   Up US 341 to Jesup and Wayne County.. and on and on and on.

   As I lay in bed the other night, just thinking our adventures in some of these off the main highway spots, two specific ones came to mind.

   Way over in the western part of our state lies Clay County and its county seat, Fort Gaines. You don't just find yourself there one day, you have to intentionally get off on GA39, driving south down beside the Chattahoochee River till you get there.

   Two things happened to us there. For starters, we found the town, and it was not big at all, but we could not locate the courthouse. After driving around the two or three blocks of downtown, I finally stopped at an alterations shop and asked where it was. Not only did the black lady who ran it take me out in the street and tell me, she then pointed the way. She was not satisfied that I would find it, so she stood in the middle of the street watching me until I parked in front of the county seat. I can still see a large southern lady waving joyfully to me in my rear view window when she realized that this city boy could locate her town's main building.

   Then, as I stood in the front lawn, a car pulled into the drive to my left. A uniformed man got out, introduced himself as the sheriff, and asked what I was doing. After showing him my camera and explaining our mission, he told me to go inside and not to forget to go upstairs to the courtroom which had been in use since the completion of the building in 1873.

   So, after taking a couple of outside shots, I proceeded in the front door and climbed the creaking wooden staircase to the second floor, where I snapped a few more and got ready to descend back to the main floor. Reaching the top of the staircase, I looked down to see a small crowd of people watching me. My guess is that no one ever came just to visit the courthouse, much less venture up to the courtroom. I'm sure they could hear me walking around up there and had to wonder "who in the world?"

   Maybe I gave them a break in their day.

   That was Clay County, and we still laugh about that today.

   One other memory from Jenkins County and the county seat of Millen, located northwest of Savannah.

   It was no trouble to spot the courthouse slightly uphill from the "town center". While there taking pictures, we heard music coming from the direction of town, we could see people moving down there and vehicles passing along the main street. In a few minutes the music got louder, and we could see a caravan heading our way. A convertible, a tractor and a couple of flatbed trailers, being pulled by even more tractors

   It was a parade, of sorts.

   The time was August and high school football was right on the horizon. It was like homecoming, but too early, just a prelude to the season right before our eyes. We stood and waved to the participants, and I took a few pics.

   "Who are those people? Is he a reporter or something? Why are they here on this afternoon anyway?"

   As we drove away, we had to chuckle at what the other sidewalk viewers must have thought and said. Maybe the football players, too.

   Another county seat and courthouse and another adventure of sorts, good for their curiosity and good for our spirits.

   Even as I write this, and then as I read aloud it to my wife, it is fun to remember and laugh, but the best thing is that we did it together, sharing making the memories and sharing reliving them again, right now.

   We did not cooperate in walking 2,000 miles or so on the PCT, but we did share an adventure that we can still enjoy, because we did it together.

   What's next?