"I see the Appalachian Trail sign, I guess this is where the drop off point is." I say as my dad quickly pulls over to the shoulder of I-81.

We came to a stop and he immediately clambered out of the car and went to the back of our shiny, blue Subaru Outback to pull his (no doubt) 40 lb backpack full of equipment he would need for his five hour hike. He made it a point to tell me that he was wearing his "swishy" pants, the ones that rip off to become shorts, and he could not contain his excitement in wearing them.

"There's not even a trail. It's just...woods" I said as I looked around, trying to see a trail for him to hike on. I admit I wasn't too thrilled about him hiking all by himself. I tend to be one of those people who are paranoid at every juncture, just waiting for something bad to happen so I can jump out from the corner and say "AHA! I told you so!"

I had a bad feeling about my dad hiking part of the Appalachian Trail by himself. He had texted me the night before telling me that he was coming near Shippensburg to drop off my prescription medicine that came in the mail. He then figured that, since he's going to be up there, he may as well do some to hiking.

"It's the Year of John, Anna!" He said to me on the phone. "I'm killing two birds with one stone!"

But people die all the time from this sort of thing and my anxiety increased ten fold as I saw where exactly he was going to spend the next few hours.

"I know! Isn't it great?" I was rushed back to reality to see him beaming at me, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. Only he would be excited about hiking through the woods by himself.

My roommates always make fun of my dad, saying that he's like Tarzan, who would rather live outside than the comfort of his own home. My one roommate always tries to get me to convince him to be a contender for shows like "Naked and Afraid" or "Survivor". In all honesty he would probably excel at those type of survival shows because the man has no problem being by himself in nature, and he quite literally laughs in the face of danger.

I don't know where he got it from but he is always prepared for the worst situation. If I had to watch a video of my entire life until this very moment, I would hear at least two thousand times, "Anna! What would you do in a survival situation?". It would replay over and over again. He's always prepared for the worst, and he gets joy out of doing so.

I shook my head at him, "Give me a hug, you know, in case you die."

We embraced and he reminded me, "Make sure to pick me up at that parking lot at 3 p.m. You have the map."

I nodded and he stepped back from me, "If I don't make it out alive though," he began in what would begin as a dramatic soliloquy in a Shakespeare play, "I'll see you on the other side."

He then proceeded to step into the green abyss of trees and shrubbery, reminding me of a dramatic scene from a movie. It almost felt staged and I had to laugh. And I just know that he staged it to be that way because he is, after all, the most dramatic person I know.

My dad. Always a character.

And when I came to pick him up hours later, blaring the car horn as I saw him make it through the unforgiving thicket of the Appalachian Trail in an attempt to embarrass him like he did in the days where he would pick me up from school events, the first thing he said to me was: "Anna, I belong on the mountains."

He spent the remainder of the day telling me exactly that. Well that, and him also trying to convince me that I should take him to a frat party.

I'm not really sure what the future holds for my dad. He's the funniest and bravest guy I know, and when he retires he very well may just go and be a Mountain Man. But at least I know that he'll be O.K. He's the toughest guy I know and he deserves all the recognition for that.