Adaptive Curmudgeon

Every day is a miracle. It’ll happen with or without you. It’s up to you to notice.

I’m typing on a portable device at a picnic table. I’m camping and everything feels perfect. My coffee is excellent. I saw a few shooting stars last night (did you take time to look at the Perseids?). I slept OK. My back complained a bit crawling into a short little motocamping tent but not too much. I got here on my motorcycle and I love every ride I take. All is well.

It’s a miracle and I appreciate it.

So many things had to come together for this moment to happen! I’m using a brand new (and by this I mean old but “Linuxed and therefore usable”) Microsoft Surface. It was sent to me by a kindly reader. I carried my gear here in a dry bag sent by another reader. My bike is weird and cheap and from 1989 yet runs flawlessly. My air mattress, tent, and sleeping bag were purchased for adventures in 2024. (I’d hoped they’d find use after their initial trip. Despite a two year delay, they have.) My Jetboil is old enough to vote. A CPAP in the tent kept me healthy. So many things that could go wrong, yet none did (or rather what went wrong was, to me, part of the journey and not a tragedy).

This awesome moment is fleeting, as all worldly things are. Eventually the sun will shift and I’ll lose my spot of shade, the mosquitoes will build up, or I’ll realize I forgot my charge cable. But for now, it’s perfect.

In the few minutes before the battery gives out I’d like to recommend a book by C.S. Lewis. I recently read “The Great Divorce”. (I read it by the fire during my previous campout in fact.) Lewis, a better writer than I, described the damned, faffing about in a hell which they can leave at any time. There’s literally (figuratively) a bus. They can get on and travel to the outskirts of heaven. Once there they must adapt to the “realness” of the heavenly environment, which feels harsh to their ghostlike existence. Beings come forth to welcome them and guide them. Relatives and friends who wound up in better circumstances entreat them to let go of their misguided ways; to join them in a better afterlife. And yet, the damned can’t, or rather won’t, rise up.

That’s the key, they could be happy at any time. They choose their misery.

They cling to their internal turmoil. They hold tight to petty failings; jealousy, greed, entitlement, the desire to control others, victimhood, all the classic sins are present. These flaws are not inflicted from external forces. They’re things they carry within. They treasure them. They choose to hold misery close and salvation far. They build their own cage and whine about its confines.

The book was written 80 years ago.

The thing that struck me was how modern everything sounded. Everything spoke by the damned could’ve been spewed on Facebook or X or Reddit. Heck, it would’ve trended. Think of all the pathologies you experience on a daily basis. One person raging about Trump. Another fuming that Fauchi goes unpunished. Herds of (relatively) wealthy, carefully coddled, “victim” of economics. Nobody is happy with every event and that’s fine. But routine disappointment is not license to wallow in generated misery.

A modern system of algorithms stokes the fires of each persons specific inner turmoil. Lewis’ time was long before that, but he knew how the damned would cling to their misery and I was shocked how common it sounded.

Lewis’ damned had political arguments. They had economic theories. In the book, from so long ago, the damned tell the saved all about their problems and it sounds oddly familiar. For the damned, the world merely persisting on its own, without regard for their specific complaints, is exactly what hell is all about.

It’s disturbing to have seen it on my internet feed. It was jarring and I felt the need to reflect.

I’m not trying to type a sermon. I’m not qualified for such things. I’m just trying to appreciate good things as they happen. I remind myself I must let go of indignities and injuries to make room for the good. I’m not saying to forget, what happened happened and denial is foolish. Rather, it’s wise to avoid letting bad things become a defining part of your core being. The stuff of the material world is eventually going to be moot; so prepare for that transition. I encourage others to do the same, but do not demand it. That’s above my pay grade. Everyone and their own free will will have to sort out their situation. However, I heed the warning Lewis wrote. I probably needed it.

There’s always hope. In the book, saved souls try hard to bring the damned into joy. They try to lead them, to help them, to train them, to reason with them, to shower them with love. You, the reader, despair as the perpetual victim or the neighborhood bully/gossip (which we now call a Karen) insists on and even demands hardship. It’s the human condition. Someone reading this is stuck on their own negativity. They’re thinking “that dipshit blogger is emoting about camping while the Strait of Hormuz is a mess”. Some other person is thinking “he has a 20 year old camp stove while Elon Musk has enough money to buy an RV for everyone in America”. Or “Fauchi lied and got away with it”. All that might be true. Lewis would say such things are ultimately irrelevant. Lewis is right.

I’m just a dweeb with a goofy motorcycle and an obsolete computer. I send my bullshit into the ‘net knowing it won’t do much good, but in the hope it might do a little. It’s my resistance to “the algorithm”. I intend y’all will have a better day having read whatever I create, not a worse one. I presume that was Lewis’ goal too; something he attained far better than I.

The next time someone displays their emotional incontinence, see it as what it is. It’s treasured and carefully nurtured self-damnation. We are often in the presence of the damned. Notice how your joy pisses them off.

Hope for them. Pray for them if that’s your style. You can try reason but I don’t think reason ever helps the unreasonable. Whatever happens, don’t let them drag you down. Be happy and offer that they can be happy too. When they turn away, as most will, let them go.

Well that’s all I had to say. I’m nowhere near cell service so this post won’t go live for a while. There’s no rush. Lewis wrote a book and it took 80 years to reach me. Yet it seemed incredibly current. I think this particular topic is as immediate as today and as old as humanity.

Have a great day everyone.

I went motorcycle camping. I was going more remote but still only a single day. The weather report predicted thunderstorms in the evening. I’d packed a tiny tarp but brought no rope to hang it.

I’d stop at some town and buy rope. Nope. There ain’t jack shit on the way and I’d forgotten how profoundly empty the area was.

I haven’t been this way for a couple years. Back then I’d been truck camping and super comfortable in the hinterland. I’d simply forgot the degree of nothing I’d been messing with. I should’ve remembered.

On this trip grid power for my CPAP was key. I was counting on the premium electric site I’d reserved at the only campground.

I’d forgotten everything was rough around the edges. Everything looked frayed and I’ve never seen staff there ever.

My campsite was a shabby patch of grass carved into a weedy forest. There won’t be postcards photographed here. I didn’t care, it had a power outlet, fire ring, and picnic table. That’s plenty.

I started unstrapping my tent but I had a bad feeling about the power. I grabbed my extension cord to test it. Damn! I have a new 25′ extension cord which lights up when powered. I’d brought one that’s much more worn and it has no light. Or maybe the light was broke? Or maybe there was no power?

Dun dun DUUUUUUHHHH!

I plugged in a charging adapter for my cell phone. The phone registered nothing. Shit!

I wandered to a nearby campsite and tested with the phone. It worked fine.

I tested a few more empty sites. They were fine.

God has an awesome sense of humor. I’d reserved and paid for the only electric site that had no power. Lucky me.

(I know what you’re thinking. You’re diving for the keyboard to tell me about the circuit breaker being off or to wiggle the plug in the socket or whatever. I know all that. Sometimes an outlet is dead and that’s all there is to it.)

Planning for just such a situation Mrs. Curmudgeon (who was back at home) has offered to be “the man in the chair”. All the cool heist and superhero movies have a character who’s essential to the plot but works a phone back at the office. That’s the man in the chair. Think of Batman; “Alfred, can you check if the princess of Monaco is a male who wears clown makeup?” Then you see Batman nodding. “Ah ha! I knew it was JOKER!”

I made the pre-planned call.

“Honey, I’m at campsite X. The power is no good. Please login to the address I wrote out and use the password I gave you. Change my reservation from X to one of the other available electric sites.”

“Hello? I can’t hear you. HELLO!”

The line went dead. Shit.

I had one bar of service. I called again. She answered immediately.

“Curmudgeon? It’s your number but no voice. Have you been eaten by bears? Did you crash into a bridge abutment? I’m worried that you…”

Click, it went dead.

Maybe asymmetric text would work when voice wouldn’t? I texted.

Msg 1: “I’m at site X. Power is shit.”

Msg 2: “Please see if you can reserve some other site.”

Msg 3: “Site Y is pretty cool and it…” MSG 1 NOT DELIVERED.

What the… MSG 2 NOT DELIVERED. MSG 3 NOT DELIVERED.

Well crap.

There were a few potential sites with power. A few were occupied but others might be empty all night. On the other hand empty ones might have a Winnebago rolling in at midnight. An online chart could tell me which sites are clear but I couldn’t see it. Mrs. Curmudgeon could see the chart but wouldn’t get the message to do so. Did I mention the place was remote and unstaffed?

It was too far to drive home and I’m too dependent on the CPAP to camp without power. There was a family tent camping not far away. Maybe they had Starlink? I walked down and tried to politely inquire. “Excuse me, would y’all have internet?”

Whoops! I’d just stepped into someone’s bad day. There was a dad having the typical dad moment when everyone shits on him even though he didn’t do anything wrong. His kids, a brother and a sister, were standing around looking stupid and useless. Not bad kids necessarily, just demonstrably not rising to whatever challenge was at hand. There was a humungous tent that probably looked cool online but was surely a difficult edifice to erect; especially for one man with the “assistance” of two clueless teenagers. I was sure sis and bro were no help whatsoever with anything that was/is/or ever will happen. There was a utility trailer, unhitched from its SUV. It was half filled with assorted shit. Probably bro and sis had bikes and kayaks and fifty pounds of board games and stuffed animals… all of which dad had been lugged around as part of the enormous thankless task that is a dad’s lot.

“There’s no cell service here.” The dad explained.

“Yah, no cell service.” I agreed, deciding to not mention Starlink. “I’m at site X, the power doesn’t work. Does your power work?”

“Yeah power’s fine.” The dad offered. He seemed to appreciate having a break and someone to talk to. “Unfortunately, we’re leaving. My wife is sick.”

“Oh no, that sucks.” I legitimately felt sad about that, even as I coveted the power outlet in his camp.

“This is a good spot, it’s near the restrooms.” The wife emerged from the tent. She looked a bit frazzled. I could imagine she was under the weather. Also, is it me or are all women in all campsites fixated on restroom proximity?

“Why don’t you stay here? We’re leaving and we already paid for the site.” Dad offered.

“You’re sure?” I didn’t want to be rude. I pondered offering a $20 bill just as a nice gesture but I’m feeling tight of funds. I’d already decided to swoop in and seize the power the instant he’d said they were leaving.

“Yeah, why not?”

I thought of offering to help pack. The guy could surely use a hand. But the family dynamic wasn’t clear to me. Better to stay out. “That’s very thoughtful. I hope you feel better soon ma’am.” I nodded at his wife, who really did look rough. “Just toot your horn when you drive by me. I’m hanging out at site X.”

I abandoned overworked dad to a sick wife and two useless kids and an enormous tent to pack. I heard some faffing about as something heavy was crashed onto the trailer. There was more drama as the trailer was hitched. I felt sorry for everyone there… but also nervous to get my tent ready before the predicted thunderstorms. I was jittery. Every time I started to relax my phone would ping. MSG 1 NOT DELIVERED. MSG 2 NOT DELIVERED. MSG 3 NOT DELIVERED.

I have a SpotX and I left it home. What an idiot!

Eventually dad and family rolled away. I hope mom gets well soon. I hope someone gives dad a cold beer, the poor bastard.

I scampered over settled in. Thinking of the weather predictions I staked everything down extra well. I still had no rope for my tiny tarp. I left it unused. I tried to delete the messages that hadn’t been sent. It wouldn’t do to send Mrs. Curmudgeon scrambled delayed orders to make moot point reservations. The phone ignored me and kept trying to deliver the deleted messages. MSG 1 NOT DELIVERED. MSG 2 NOT DELIVERED. MSG 3 NOT DELIVERED.

I typed a fourth message. “Situation handled. All is well.” MSG 4 NOT DELIVERED.

Despite dead power and bad coms, I had a great time. It had been sweaty all day but at night it cooled to just perfect. The predicted thunderstorms didn’t happen. In fact the clouds dissipated. I went to the firewood supply kiosk and picked up a bundle. It said “follow this QR code to pay for the firewood”, which is completely impossible where there’s no cell service. I guess I stole the bundle of wood? What else could I do? I’ll pay for it days later when I’m properly online. I started a fire and relaxed.

My phone pinged: MSG 1 NOT DELIVERED. MSG 2 NOT DELIVERED. MSG 3 NOT DELIVERED. MSG 4 NOT DELIVERED. But now there was a voice mail from Mrs. Curmudgeon. I couldn’t hear the audio but read the speech to text: “I never heard when you called. I suspect you have no cell service and didn’t bring your SpotX. I’m going to assume you’ve got everything handled unless I hear otherwise. Have a great campout.”

Brilliant! I worry about alarming Mrs. Curmudgeon with my solo rambling. However, over the years she’s gotten used to the idea I’m probably fine. I’ll of course apologize a month over leaving the SpotX behind. I’m such a dumbass.

I considered trying to call back. Now my phone said “SOS Only”. I turned the fucking thing off.

The sky was astronomy perfect dark. I had a small window in the forest canopy and saw hints of the Perseid meteor shower. The fire was calm and relaxing as it always is. There were no raccoons and I didn’t fall off a truck. Overall, it was a great night.

I woke up with a sore back. Chainsaw work hadn’t completely done me in but it hadn’t helped. Shifting logs into my tractor bucket had been even worse.

I wanted to go motorcycle camping.

Sleepily, I looked at the rising sun. It was blood red. I stepped outside. I didn’t smell smoke. The sun looked like we’d just been nuked and it was refracting though the particulate of blasted cities.

The air was still and not too hot. It was unpleasantly humid. The sky had puffy white clouds. They’d build throughout the day, but given the cool-ish temperature I doubted they’d develop into thunderheads. The dead unmoving air was unlikely to bring relief or new weather.

Sipping my morning coffee I checked the internet. Everything I read was counter to what I’d observed.

A government site claimed my local air was crisp and clean despite mapping a smoke plume that covered a huge area (including my house). It pushed damn near to the Atlantic. I tried to square that in my head. Would particulate in the stratosphere make the sun glow blood red while leaving air at my level clean?

I have a more cynical theory. I was detecting bullshit. How often does the government tell the truth? What are the odds that air monitoring stations report exactly what they measure? Are readings tied to funding, to pollution regulations, to something I cannot fathom but would recognize if I see it? Was the desirable “all is well” air quality reading similar to other facts bureaucracies provide? Was it “seasonally adjusted”? Was it “smoothed”? Would it be quietly “restated” closer to the truth at some later date when nobody cares?

Man that’s dark. It sucks to think like that. Yet, how many lies have we been fed and for how long? If I’m sure they’ve cooked the Consumer Price Index, why would I assume they’re angels about air quality reporting?

I went back outside and looked at the sky. It looked polluted as shit to me. I’m sensitive to such things. Probably a bad time to go camping.

Back inside I consulted the weather report.

[Warning, an aside follows.] I like weather but it was among many subjects I carefully avoided throughout my career. All those chaotic air masses could keep a nerd like me busy forever. But it’s only fun if you’re truly trying to understand the mystery of our world. That has little to do with job prospects. Most people think “weather person” is the cute girl yammering in front of a green screen. I’ll never have the “assets” she has. Being a science guy could I happily play with statistical models behind the scenes? Probably not. I’d spend forever learning air masses and rotations and vortexes and then I’d be evaluated by someone who thinks Greta Thunberg is a genius. I’d be passed over for promotion because I’m a white male bastard. I’d be dragged away from calculus about clouds and forced into struggle sessions about pronouns and climate change. I chose to remain an amateur. I think it was a good call. [End reflective moment.]

The prediction was more dire than my amateur guesses. Shit was supposed to build all afternoon and maybe let loose with thunderstorms just before sunset. Fair ’nuff. Who am I to guess thunderhead buildup less than some model? Oddly there was a second and third wave of potential rain predicted; one around midnight and another in pre-dawn. How? I guess the wind was about to change. I hadn’t looked at satellite images. My view only went as far as the polluted horizon.

It would be a rainy night. Probably a bad time to go camping.

Then again…

…rain is why we have tents.

It was polluted (maybe), going to rain (possibly), and my back was sore. Tough shit, I was going. Hastily, I packed my shit.

As before the CPAP took up far too much space. I added a tiny tarp and a rain jacket. This pushed my bike load beyond what I thought was ideal. I didn’t have rope, should I need to erect the tiny tarp I’d be SOL? I’d figure something out. I thought about my SpotX. I’d left it in my shop. I didn’t feel like fetching it and I was going a place that was “super tame” anyway.

My last act at the house was to reserve a campsite with AC. I grumpily accepted the extra fee. And rolled out.

Sore back, pollution, rain… never let minor risks cloud your heart to the big picture. I’d be fine.

More later…

I’m in a good mood. I’m also anxious to head for the hills.

There’s always a million things I want to do and given limited time I usually just “wing it”. A carefully planned list of priorities isn’t my style. I’ll haphazardly try to do everything all at once and see what happens. Some stuff gets done, some doesn’t. That’s fine with me. I’m not a factory. The goal is happiness and what’s more happy than a thousand fun projects in random stages of completion?

I was puttering around with this and that, making steady unremarkable incremental here and there, when my first motocamp in two years flipped my lid. It was pavement based and tame but I loved it. It seemed to “break the dam” on motocamping. I’m excited to do it again. I have the freedom to just plain ignore my boat which needs “refurbishing” and forget about the lawn. In fact screw the lawn! (It’s mowed enough that it’s not embarrassing or a fire hazard. That’s good enough.)

Giving in to motocamping enthusiasm, I decided to take my PC800 on another short campout as soon as possible.

Sadly, I’m still an adult with adult obligations. Various things have to happen before I leave town (even for one night). Also, weather and forest fire air pollution have their say. The upshot of all this is that I’ve got my motocamping gear in a pile by the door, the bike keys in my pocket, and my eye on the weather. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. I’m as ready to bug out as a dude can get.

I’m not planning a big trip; probably another very tame single night in a tent. I’ll rein myself in and go no more than a couple hundred miles. Plus, I’ve got to camp somewhere with AC power. Even so, that’s a hell of a lot better than last year; when I was camping in my yard.

It feels awesome to get out on two wheels and I’m always happiest if I occasionally sleep on the dirt. As my grandma would say “it’s good for what ails ya’.”

A.C.

Update: I needed to do “home” things but was locked and loaded to roll out tomorrow morning. I wrapped up my “to do” list for the day and was “running out the clock”. I’d cool my jets until sunset and be motorcycling 12 hours later. Unfortunately, I’m not good at relaxing. Since I had time to kill, I decided to cut firewood. It’s gotta’ happen anyway.

Bad idea! I guess I’m out of shape. A couple hours of chainsaw and pushing logs completely ran my batteries down. I kicked my own ass. My back feels like a dozer ran over me. I’m not sure if Ibuprofen is going to be enough. Plus, I’m still bruised from “the tailgate incident of 2026”.

It would be smart to push my campout back a day or three. Then again fortune favors the bold. I’ve no idea what I’ll do. Hopefully, whatever fun I inflict on myself will be worth it.

I just got back from a quick overnight camp with my motorcycle. It’s much cooler than truck camping but one must adapt their gear big time.

For truck camping I use a crude bulletproof old school Coleman Dual Fuel single burner camp stove. I also bring my Coleman Dual Fuel Lantern, which is a delightful luxury. For motocamping (and prior to that many years of canoe camping) I nope out from heavy liquid fuel and use lighter (and more high tech) iso-butane canisters. In my case, I use a Jetboil. It’s mostly for boiling water (though I do have a special Jetboil fry pan for fish).

One bummer is that “lightweight  trips” a super bright lantern is out of the question. I’ve gotten used to having a stationary lantern around which the campsite seems to orbit. It’s a pleasant way to camp. There are funky little “butane candle” type lanterns by Firemaple. I think they might bridge the gap between LED efficiency and warm flame light… but I don’t own one.

My Jetboil is battered (and not exactly like the modern version in the link) but it’s two decades old. I have an accessory French Press that goes with it. The press and stove combine to make darned good coffee.

All Jet Boils have a removable bottom cup. This can be used for eating but I never needed it for that. It’s mostly to cover the delicate heating fins. My cup is battered nearly to death.

When I first got my 3d Printer I was noodling around making an “improved” cup. (In case you’re missing the idea, I made the red part.)

There’s unused space around the fins in a Jet Boil. I got clever and 3d printed a container to fit in that very specific space.

I used it for coffee!

Cool eh?

My coffee container fits loosely but precisely in the Jetboil base. The red cup goes over everything. I feel like the Jetboil company should already sell an accessory which does precisely that. (I’m not a dumbass, I know to let the heatsink fins cool before putting plastic near them.)

Given the little coffee stash and the ridiculous bright red base, there isn’t a single JetBoil on earth like mine. That’s the kind of obscure utilitarian use for which I bought a 3d printer.

Someday I’ll tweak the design even more. It sounds like a mid-winter project. In the meantime, it’s pretty cool having a bespoke campstove.

A.C.

I did it! I went camping with a CPAP and the whole campout worked great. Every time before there’s been drama. This time was chill. The CPAP behaved, I wasn’t mobbed by raccoons, and I didn’t fall off my truck’s tailgate.

Nothing weird happened! I’m as surprised as you!

A simple dumb overnight campout really helps with internal peace. It doesn’t have to be a big adventure. It was just a night in a tent. I didn’t sail my boat (which is still in “drydock”). I didn’t make an elaborate meal. I didn’t go hiking. I wasn’t somewhere exotic. I did nothing…

Every campout is a learning opportunity. This time I switched from “easy mode (carrying as much shit as I want in a huge air conditioned truck) to “hard mode” (carrying fewer and lighter things on my 37 year old motorcycle).

I expected the transition to kick my ass. Motorcycle camping (aka motocamping) is entirely different than truck camping. The truck is a crutch! Without it, everything has to be lightweight and thus inherently less comfortable.

How old and decrepit am I? What would happen without my huge cot and “stand up” height tent? Will my spine pretzel if I sleep “on the ground”?

Only one way to find out!

I began my run of luck by discovering that past Curmudgeon had carefully stowed all my lightweight stuff two years ago. (That poor bastard thought he’d go motocamping again soon. He had no idea what would happen a few months later. Oddly, I don’t remember stowing the stuff. I did it, but I don’t remember. That’s a bit freaky.)

I found where I’d stashed it all, as if Santa Claus had left it for me. Also, nothing was missing. Wow!

There were various “things to learn”. My awesome Honda PC800 has an enormous saddlebag-ish “trunk” (I call it a “bedonkadonk”.) A unique advantage to its odd design. (Image from a thirteen year old Rider article.)

The bedonkadonk has ample space for an overnight camp but the damn CPAP is a new twist. It consumed an absurd portion of my cargo volume. I also brought 25′ of extension cord (meant to do the job of a battery pack I don’t own). It’s lamer than a battery pack (and not much smaller) but it is MUCH cheaper. The cord took up additional space.

Pictured below, a poor man’s battery pack.

It sucks depending on a campsite’s grid power. I had to make a reservation (which meant an extra fee) because electric sites fill up long before my usual “primitive” sites. I also had to pay more for the “premium” site. Then I had to buy firewood at the camp; because you can’t carry a trash can of processed pallet wood on a motorcycle.

All in all, it doubled campsite costs. With time I’ll whittle that down. Luckily, camping isn’t that expensive anyway.

I wanted to be organized but completely blew it. I’ll get better with practice. Here’s the mess I stashed in the bedonkadonk. (Note: the headphones are for listening to Dungeoun Crawler Carl audiobook at night. I also had a library (!) book to read in the daytime. The Little Debbie and Tylenol would be medically necessary if my back didn’t like sleeping on dirt.

Not everything can go in the bedonkadonk. Motocamping usually requires either a trunk-case (which I don’t have) or a drybag (which I do have).

Another success; I finally used the drybag a kind reader sent me three years ago! (A reader sent me his old motocamping dry bag back in 2023. Isn’t that nice? I promised to put it to use but life threw a few curveballs. It took three years for me to use it. I was stoked that it worked so well. It’s more fun using a “donated” dry bag than buying one! I sent an email update to the guy who sent me the bag.)

The single dry bag easily held a sleeping bag, sleeping air mattress, air inflator, backpacker’s pillow, camp croks, and a towel. (Those last two because the campsite has a shower.) Two rok straps held everything down perfectly. I tried to position it as a backrest but it didn’t have much effect as a backrest.

The whole setup looks damn good! You’d think I’ve got my shit together! I don’t, but I’m trying. I believe I’m well equipped for “pavement based” motocamping.

My motocamping tent has its own story. Even the (included) dry bag is epic; with reflective accents and lots of tie downs. It’s a Lone Rider ADV Tent. It’s specifically meant for motocamping and (surprise!) it does its job well.

Back in 2024 I tried to talk Lone Rider into sponsoring me. I suggested they send me a free tent. In exchange, I’d write a real world review from the WYBDR. (At the time they were giving a tent to every cute girl YouTuber that owns a motorcycle.) It was a nice try; but doomed. They were like “you type words into a blog“? Literacy made me feel like a dinosaur. They probably laughed their asses off. They said no, which is fine. They said it politely which I appreciated. (One warning: Lone Rider’s video features a Viking dude with an epic beard. Dude’s awesome and probably ADV rides like a badass and has a sweet hairdo. He makes the tent seem palatial. However, the dude is not American sized. The ADV tent is plenty for one guy. It’s too small for two regular Americans unless they’re real friendly. If you’re not trying to score with your riding partner, you’ll need independent tents or something bigger.)

It’s ideally designed for its extremely specific purpose. I’m happy to own it. If you are really into solo motocamping consider it. A non-motorcycle backpacking tent might be cheaper but backpacking is subtly different from motocamping. And the quality is top notch. You know my opinion is the truth because I paid full price. 🙂

This is what it looks like when you strap it to a bike. I dragged this one across Wyoming and then ignored it for 2 years of storage. It looks brand new. I didn’t even look inside the bag before I left. I trust the tent that much!

At camp I discovered this!

That’s a cord running from my site (which cost more because it has power) to the neighboring site (which has no power). 

I briefly considered going apeshit but why fret? Also, I deserved this. I got caught trying to charge a battery pack in the same campground earlier this summer.

There was nobody at the next door campsite, just a cord leading to their tent. I didn’t unplug it. Maybe they had ice cream and cold beer in an electric cooler. What kind of monster would melt some kid’s ice cream?

I only need power for the CPAP and that’s only at night. I’d wait. If it wasn’t resolved by sunset I’d use the words of philosopher Carl; “so I put two and two together, and I decided you’re pissing me off”.

In the meantime, I setup all my stuff. It’s all good as new. I’m including links to my stuff. They’re copied from old blog posts and some products have probably been supplanted by newer versions.

I think the most important gear (after the motorcycle itself) is your sleep pad. Mine is a Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Topo.

I inflated it with a GIGA Pump 2.0. (I recharged it before leaving but it still had battery life even after 2 years in storage! Those little pumps are awesome!)

I also have a Nemo Fillo pillow. Now I’m officially a CPAP gimp so I think a pillow is mandatory camping gear.

My Big Agnes Diamond Park 15 Degree sleeping bag integrates with the pad. (It was overkill for summer temps at this altitude.)

I brought a tiny fold up chair. Just like the pillow, it could be considered “optional” but I decided its essential. It’s comfortable; though I did make “old guy sounds” whenever I had to lever my ass out if it.

Here’s camp:

For food, Mountain House is my go-to for non-truck camping. I have a bunch in a box and I grab them at more or less random. I like that it removes one of the decisions I need to make. I carried more than I needed to simulate a longer trip.

I used my Jet Boil for boiling water and added the French Press screen for making coffee. It looks a little battered but it’s 20+/- years old and the coffee was great.

So that’s my happy fun time camping trip.

A.C.

P.S. The power outlet situation resolved itself. At sunset a harried woman showed up and scampered over from her tent to unplug her cord. She sheepishly offered a flurry of apologies. I wasn’t upset. I tried my best to look like a chill guy so as not to upset her more. It probably didn’t work. I’m a beardo that rides an obscure bike, has weird 3d printed accessories, and reads library books by the fire… in 2026 that means I look like a serial killer. Nothing I can do about that. The CPAP ran great on grid power.

[This is for nerds who like technical details. I’m not mocking anyone, I love technical stuff. I own and enjoy a 3d printer! Also it’s for the CPAP people who care about such details and want something other than an ad from a company. These are bits of “empirical evidence” about CPAP camping.]

On my last campout (a simple overnight with nothing interesting except crashing off my tailgate), I tried a new CPAP “setup”.

Here’s my baseline: On earlier campouts, the enormous battery pack has only had enough juice for 2 or 3 nights. I’d also inadvertently run humid air through a hose in a cold tent and created an awful situation called “rainout”.

This time I had it figured out!

I have a cigarette lighter power supply cord for the CPAP. I plugged that in to my battery pack. Now the DC battery was directly supplying the DC draw. Skipping the AC inverter makes things more efficient.

I also bought a cheap ($25?) “side cover”. It “replaces” the water chamber in my CPAP. (This is not a travel CPAP, it’s one meant for a house. It has a chamber where you add distilled water. The water is heated to manage the hose air’s humidity for your comfort.) The “side cover” eliminates that. It also tells the CPAP the chamber is absent. The CPAP responds by turning off the reservoir heater. Eliminating the heater removes a lot of the battery draw.

I set the heated hose to “off”. That also cut my CPAP’s power use dramatically.

One last “ace in the hole” was a “hose cover”. It’s a simple fabric insulating tube that covers the hose. I bought it from Amazon. It’s cheap and works great! The night got chill but the hose was insulated and thus had no condensation. Unpleasant “rainout” was avoided.

As for sleep, I conked out immediately. Part of that was being exhausted from “near injury”, the rest was my comfy Teton XXL cot and mattress.

The CPAP worked well. It ran it all night (and charged a phone) and still had 91% on the battery at dawn! Turning off the humidity chamber, turning off the heated hose, insulating the hose, and running DC to DC power made a HUGE difference in the CPAP’s draw. I went from 2-3 days per charge to something like 9-10 days. Big difference!

With the minor tweaks I may try a much smaller (motorcycle saddlebag sized!) battery, or maybe I just won’t spend the money yet. I’ll try a motorcycle campout with extension cord eventually. That might work well enough for the short term.

One caveat, humidity and heating systems aren’t pointless. I disabled them but I suspect they really do matter. Travel CPAPs have various humidity solutions and it’s not the same as my non-travel CPAP with NO humidity solution. In the morning, I could feel the difference. It was mild but I felt it.

I think my approach is safe for a few days while camping (especially in a humid climate) but I recommend you don’t push it too far. I’m sure sleep doctors have opinions more informed than mine. Lungs matter, pay attention to them! Don’t let some rando on the internet talk you into stupid shit!

Anyway, it was a good time (aside from the tailgate attack). The smoke and weather has once again turned against me but I’ll probably be out there again when the cool clear air comes back.

A.C.

You don’t have to watch a clip from the old Disney movie Kung Fu Panda, but it’s what I’m talking about in the rest of this post.

Spoiler alert & synopsis: Wise protector Oogway has a vision that a super strong mega-evil snow leopard will escape from prison. He sends his messenger, a goose, to the prison to warn them. The prison had been inescapable but one of the messenger’s feathers falls within reach of the leopard. The leopard uses the feather to escape.

Trying to avid a thing causes it to happen.

It’s a cliché but I did it.

I got worried about getting injured just hopping out of my truck bed (which is a risky maneuver). In trying to avoid that risk I sent my self to destination fucked. (With all due respect to Ozzyman.)

This wasn’t a tiny slip… it was pancaking into unpleasant shaped cement. You know when you’re watching sports, something like football or hockey, and a dude takes a hit so solid that you’re like “that’s it, put a fork in him, he’s cooked”. That’s what happened to me.

So I was lying there beneath my tailgate… letting the nausea subside and then… nothing.

Nothing happened.

I didn’t expect that.

After a couple minutes of gasping for breath and assuming I was screwed, I rolled onto my chest and pushed myself up. I felt like I’d been put through a shredder but I was standing.

I wasn’t coughing up blood. It kind of surprised me!

I made my way back to my picnic table where my Coleman lantern was merrily lighting the scene. My little campfire was still lit. I wasn’t dizzy. The nausea only lasted a few minutes. My toes and fingers were moving properly. I didn’t hit my head and my eyes seemed to focus correctly.

I was convinced I’d be dead meat after the fall. But… no.

I guess I was lucky? I feel like it was a big deal; “win the lottery” luck!

I tried a deep breath and that went OK. If you break a rib it hurts a lot and you don’t like deep breaths. So a deep breath was a good sign.

I grabbed a bottle of water, slammed a couple Tylenol (I’d be needing them!), and waited.

After a half hour of not dying, I decided I was fine.

I called my friend.

“You’re the creator of a self-fulfilling prophecy!”

“What?”

“You’re like that fuckin’ duck from Kung Fu Panda. The warning itself caused the thing warned against.”

“Um…”

“I fell off the tailgate of my truck!”

“Drinking?”

“No! Trying to be cautious. I was thinking of you needing surgery so I tried to climb down like a cautious geezer. I landed on cement.”

“Whoa! Ironic!”

“Good news is I seem to be fine. I’ll be damned if I know why.”

“Jesus man, don’t be falling off trucks anymore OK?”

We both agreed that falling off trucks is to be avoided. The manual that isn’t written about things you shouldn’t do while getting old should have a whole chapter about truck tailgates. I wished him well for his surgery the next day and hung up.

I hurt. But there’s two kinds of hurt. There’s “signal to your body that something is injured” and “nothing is injured but you pushed the envelope and shouldn’t do that again”. I had the latter. I’m still shocked I didn’t end up at the ER.

What do you do after an event like that? Nothing. Do nothing!

I did a very good job of doing nothing.

I drank more water. I sat by the fire. Very still.

I happily listened to people laughing in a campsite a few sites away. It sounded like they were playing Uno. Sounded like a handful of teenage girls. Happy people playing a fun card game. Can there be anything more wholesome?

A raccoon came through my campsite. I was far too worn out to have murderous intent. I stayed in my chair and told him to leave, which he did. He went after some garbage from the campsite next to me. A person was snoring in their car with the windows down (no tent at all). I shooed him away and then hobbled back to my seat.

I had intent to write a cool blog post with deep thoughts, or read a good book. But after “the tailgate incident” I lowered my expectations. I put on a Bluetooth headset (to maintain quiet in the campsite) and listened to a few chapters of “Dungeon Crawler Carl”.

Deep literature? No. Absolutely pleasant moment sitting by the fire munching cookies? Yes!

I stayed up late, enjoying the total lack of rushing about, and frankly I was super happy to be (relatively) uninjured. Nothing improves your mood like getting shitmixed but then just walking it off. Feels like a boss move.

I’d sought absolutely no drama and I got that. Mostly. There was ten seconds of blinding pains followed by ten minutes discovering (marveling at?) the fact I was fine… and I’m still a little “achy” a few days later. But overall it was fine.

Four out of five stars; I enjoyed the campsite as much as a man who’s fallen off a tailgate could.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

A.C.

P.S. I already had a Dr. appointment the next day. Convenient eh? The doc didn’t think I broke anything and I didn’t even need x-rays. How awesome is that?

P.S.2. I’m not saying exercise makes you impervious, but maybe it helped? Did “working out” with trekking poles turn “you’ll need a cast” into “walk it off”? Who knows?

[I had plans to go camping by motorcycle. I abandoned them and chose instead a simple, easy, lame single overnight with my truck.]

Compared to my motorcycle plans, the truck’s air conditioning (and therefore also filtered air) was a lot less stress. I gave up on all the light, rugged gear and switched to my rock solid, tried and true, truck camping array of gear. At camp, my setup time (counting the CPAP) was about 16 minutes.

The wind had indeed shifted toward “clean”. The air had cooled considerably.

It was the perfect climate. I’d made the right call!

The campground was (literally!) completely occupied. I feared it would feel crowded. Driving from my very remote home to a less remote campsite seems silly but it worked out.

Also, the people at the campground shone like a jewel! I basked in a level of civilized pleasantry you can scarcely believe still exists! It gives me hope for humanity. A zillion tents and RVs and people and pets and cars and kids and bicycles and campfires and hot dogs cooking on grills all co-existed in peace and cordiality. Unplug from social media and go camping. You’ll be like a European discovering Buc-ees.

It took me a few years to get used to camping at normal campgrounds. Being newly retired I’m getting used to camping midweek during peak season. Most of my life’s campouts have been dispersed camping at the ass end of nowhere during precious holidays and weekends, usually in the sketchiest season possible. Sampling a life of ease is very inviting. Even “crowds” haven’t been a problem.

I predicted a packed rabble of Budweiser soaked miscreants. Nothing could be further from the truth. Children played, people laughed, everyone was quietly pleasant. People huddling in their designated sites turned a “crowd” into a cordial little neighborhood. Kids zoomed by on bikes just like I did as a child. At sunset everyone walked their dog. Norman Rockwell couldn’t have imagined a better version of heaven!

Who knew?

Was it really that awesome? I dunno’. Felt like it to me. Probably a lot had to do with the gentle breeze that had dropped the temperature 20 degrees and air that felt clean. Is a lawnchair and a fresh cool breeze enough to make the whole world into puppies and kittens? I think so.

This campground has cell service. I called a friend.

“Sup?” I like that guys communicate with few words and sometimes single syllables.

“Did I tell you about that thing that happened?”

“Nope.”

He proceeded to tell me a story. It began with “getting old doesn’t come with a manual” and ended with surgery! He’d elected to do an outdoor recreation activity that seemed pretty creampuff to me. He had the same opinion. We were wrong! He got injured. His experience was apparently a textbook example of shit you ought not do after a certain number of birthdays. He even had a quote about it from a literal medical textbook!

“Damn! I would’ve thought that activity was no big deal.”

“Yah, me too.”

We agreed that someone ought to write up a manual. I’d vote for Dave Barry.

While cooking dinner I thought about our conversation and all the stupid shit I do. I’m not “old” but that’s subjective. As all men will tell you, there’s a time when your mind thinks you’re 26 and your body ain’t. I ride motorcycles, hike in extreme heat, run chainsaws… my friend got nailed doing just a fraction of that. It was just an innocent underestimation but he got seriously hurt. Something neither of us thought of as dangerous at “our age” had bit him in the ass!.

What hidden risks am I missing? Are there things should I be phasing out right damn now?

Dinner was done (and delicious). I had some firewood in the truck, but it wasn’t cut. I was using my little electric chainsaw (perfect for a campground, it’s no louder than an electric can opener) to lop wood into smaller bits on my tailgate.

I eyed the little saw. “Are you the thing that will try to fell me in old-ish age?” Nah, saws are dangerous at any age.

I climbed up into the truck to grab the last piece of wood. I was about to jump down like I always do.

Ah ha!

My truck is pretty tall. Every time I hop off the tailgate I’m rolling the dice. It wouldn’t take much to twist an ankle or hyperextend a knee. I’m sure Dave Barry would have some thoughts about that. There are YouTube videos and jokes about old dudes falling off trucks. (A cliché right up there with videos of dudes loading motorcycles.)

Thinking of our conversation, I decided to play it safe.

I hunkered down and got on my hands and knees on the tailgate. I’d climb down like a gentle panda rather than going airborne and landing weird on a pinecone or something. I reached one leg off the tailgate and stretched down to the ground. I was being very cautious and deliberate.

And I fell off the damn tailgate!

I fell hard. I didn’t land on dirt and pinecones, I hit cement. The only cement in the vicinity was a concrete parking curb and I landed on it. What an absolute moron!

It wasn’t gradual. I didn’t roll. Ka pow! Flat onto the concrete; slamming into my body.

Laying there, unseen on the ground behind my truck, I had four thoughts:

1. I didn’t hit my head. It could be worse. I could be out cold.
2. My cell phone is 20′ away. How much drama will that 20′ create?
3. I’ve never ridden in an ambulance. Maybe I’m due?
4. This was supposed to be a completely drama free evening!

I’ll stop here. The rest is in the next post.

Spoiler alert, I’m OK.

I had a plan. I wanted to test the moto-camping gear I’d used in the Wyoming backcountry in 2024 (and test myself with the lighter, less comfortable situation). I’d strap the small-ish, light-ish, gear on my large carrying capacity Honda PC800 motorcycle and I’d stash my bulky CPAP in the bike’s excellent bedonkadonk (the PC800’s unique “saddlebags”). I’m now a CPAP person (ugh!) but I don’t have a light battery pack or a “travel CPAP”. To address this, I’d bring an extension cord, reserve a campsite with AC to power the CPAP, and Bob’s your uncle.

Ideally I’d verify the gear from 2024 is in good shape (I suspect it is). I’d learn if my body has recovered enough to approach my 2024 baseline or at least sleep on a mat instead of my Teton XXL cot (I suspect I’m still not “leveled up” again but I’m getting there). If the extension cord worked I’d prove I could ditch my huge battery and survive with a cheap extension cord. That last bit had me worried. It’s the sort of thing that sounds foolproof until you find out some detail you didn’t know. Things that “look good on paper” often fail in reality. (I’m paranoid about the CPAP which I view as more like life support than a minor thing.) If a plug won’t fit or circuits are unreliable I’d like to find out in a controlled situation.

All this sounds reasonable. So, of course, it didn’t happen.

A heat wave delayed me for a couple weeks. Then a plume of forest fire smoke curbstomped me.

I had a plan, the gear, a bike, and a destination picked to get me out of the pollution (or at least most of it). On my departure day the smoke plume shifted. I’d be riding deeper into pollution instead of evading it. Smoke’s a “no go”.

Heeding the pollution map, I picked another direction. Within range there were no campsites with AC power. The whole “experiment” hinged on a site with AC!

Angrily, I considered saying “fuck it” and just going nuts with distance. I’d get on the highway and blast hundreds and hundreds of miles. I don’t really have the fuel budget but clean air is a big deal. Also, I’m retired and not yet adapted to the idea. Why would a retired guy not use that freedom to flee pollution?

A text interrupted my scheming. I had a doctor appointment the following afternoon. (I’d forgotten about it.) A crazy multi-state anti-pollution stampede was officially impossible. My sole option was a one night, no-AC power, excursion… or just bag it and stay home.

Camping is a big deal. Unwilling to give up, I booked one of the last two (!) tent spots I could find. It was at a place I hadn’t planned. It was close enough and comported OK with smoke plume conditions. There was no power (which saved me $10!). I’d take my truck. When I drive my truck, my heavy battery pack is not an issue. I could power the CPAP. It was good enough. Never let “perfect” be the enemy of “good enough”.

I rolled out ridiculously late (which seems a pattern for me) but I wasn’t worried. This was going to be a drama free, single overnight, where nothing interesting happened.

In case you’re wondering, that last sentence was foreshadowing. (Though it still was a fun campout.)

More in the next post.