Having abandoned my plan to promptly depart after work Friday, I embraced the delay. I treated myself and my family to dinner at a restaurant. I’d made it through Friday. Sometimes that’s all you can do. Plus, family is the rock upon which we build our life. It was a good time.
More hassles delayed me the next day. Most of it was me. I just couldn’t focus. I was tired. I was dispirited. Luckily the weather was clear; so my camping junk sat in the truck bed without issue.
I left hours late. I immediately drove into a thunderstorm. My tent was in the back, probably soaked in the first ten minutes. Oh well.
It was a long drive but I don’t remember it.
I arrived at camp just as the rain stopped. Having attained escape velocity, things were now different. I was different. Events started to go my way.
There was nobody at the front gate. I expected this. I haven’t seen an attendant at a State Park all year. I’m not sure they exist anymore. Like bank tellers physically within banks, one starts to wonder what they ever did. (In the world of ATMs and direct deposit, I go years at a time without entering a bank. So do you.)
I scanned a big plywood kiosk with a thousand posted warnings; everything from poison oak to bear precautions. Such an unsettled people we are… or our systems make us unsettled. I was looking for verification of the fire restrictions. I found nothing about fire. In the trash can, next to the kiosk, was a laminated “FIRE DANGER: NO CAMPFIRES ALLOWED” sign. It was crumpled and tossed. Was that because the edict was officially rescinded or did a pissed off camper do a little civil disobedience?
After 3 days of rain and this afternoon’s thunderstorm, I couldn’t start a forest fire with a blowtorch. The foliage was wet. Ground too. I did a quick survey, about 1/3 of the camps had fire. Real wood fire. Which made sense. I decided to make sense too.
I lugged my designated traveling firewood garbage can out of the truck. (Relax, it’s brand new and squeaky clean; allocated for this purpose.) In it, I keep dry processed pallet wood, my folding firebox, matches, and my percolating coffee pot. I was glad I’d brought it.
After that I deployed “speed camp”. I have the world’s most awesome combination of tent, cot, mattress, and sleeping bag. None of these things are overly expensive, but I selected them as a combination and they work together very well. They fit my needs and this environment perfectly. The setup is fast fast fast! I had tent, cot, mattress, and sleeping bag all setup and cozy in 15 minutes. The tent, in it’s protective carrying case, had stayed pretty dry. Good to know.
Another 15 minutes and I had deployed the folding firebox (inside the camp’s metal fire ring) and a merry fire of kiln dried waste wood was cheering me mightily. (I didn’t build it very high, I just wanted cooking coals.) I had my lawnchair unfolded and a beer in my hand in another 5 minutes. A bratwurst was sizzling soon after. If you’ve ever gone backpacking, you’ve likely calibrated your camping experience to those sorts of logistics. By comparison, a cold beer in a lawn chair is unbelievably luxurious.
On the other side of the campsite, still strapped to her trailer, Honey Badger gleamed in the firelight.
“You and me will ride the world tomorrow!” I toasted my cheap little steed.
I drank several beers and slept like a baby. I was camping. I’d made it.
AC, I don’t know you, but am glad you had several beers and slept like a baby. The world needs more well-rested, mellowed people. I’m trusting you’re part of that group.
” a thousand posted warnings” My all-time favorite at a trailhead kiosk in a semi-wild area: “There are cougars in the area. Stay alert. Hikers have recently been stalked by cougars. Small children are seen as prey. There are many methods for deterring attack. Unfortunately, none of them work.” True story.
I love humor on the warning kiosks! I once canoe camped in a Canadian wilderness park that was having a bear problem with (probably) one specific black bear. There was a map with dispersed remote campsites and people had hand written warnings on it. There would be an X on the map with notes; “Bear at this location August 3rd, sunset.” Then another X; “Bear here August 4th, middle of night.” It looked like a bear was checking each of several camps every night, like a reverse trap line. It had been building and there were several X and note marks.
On the adjacent “how to avoid bears” poster next to the map, someone had scrawled “CARRY A BIG GUN”. In the same handwriting was an X on the map; “BEAR SCARED SHITLESS, AUG 9th.”
After that, no more marks!
Phuuken’ aaayyyyyy! Small victories, take ’em where ya can. You appreciate it, that’s what’s important. We appreciate the vicarious adventures.
Camping with a dry bed, a fire, and a beer in hand, what more could anyone ask for?
Thanks AC!
MSG Grumpy