Dreams, Adventure, And Risk: Part 3

Dreams are sneaky buggers. They’ll come up from behind when you least expect it. You’ll be minding your own business when WHAM; the dream is already in your mind.

It’s fuzzy at first. Undeveloped, incomplete. But the idea will grow. You’ll imagine all aspects of it. You’ll imagine all the fun times you’ll have. You’ll imagine the feeling of accomplishment, or beauty, or peace, or fellowship… whatever makes your clock tick is what you’ll imagine. This is good. A man without dreams is already dead.

You’ll try to ignore it. “I can’t do that thing right now. I’m broke. I’m tired. I’ve got to mow the lawn.” Still the idea will grow; the more spirit you have the greater the dream’s pull. Along the way a funny thing happens; the dream grows from your spirit but the spirit grows from the dream. Directed toward healthy ends, the dream is good for you.

Then comes the part where almost everyone fails. They fail to act. Actions don’t have to be grand; even the simplest step on the path is enough… just to take the step is the point. It’s when you begin to shake off life’s inertia. Fail to act, and you’ve done yourself a disservice. The brain learns your dreams are silly distractions. It stops having them. Deny yourself enough times and you’ll stop trusting your own heart. Then, five or fifty years after you’ve already died, they plant your ass in the ground.

Got your attention? Good, I take stupid dreams seriously and here’s a new one for me.


Many moons ago, as a young Curmudgeon, I loved camping in the winter. The forests were all mine. What others perceived as hassles, I experienced as adventure. As a Boy Scout I earned the Year Round Camper patch. I was proud of that. It did nothing to advance rank. I didn’t care. Ranks aren’t my motivator.

Later, as a young man, I’d drive whatever crappy vehicle I owned to nowhere in particular, wander around the frozen wood, sleep somewhere like a vagabond, and return home feeling renewed. It was pointless and I was always alone… which is to say it was deeply meaningful and I became at peace with myself.

I was limited to shitty equipment purchased on a budget of zero. The exception was my sleeping bag. I scraped and saved to buy the best damn sleeping bag I could afford. That was enough. Good boots and a top quality sleeping bag will get you pretty far. Sometimes I’d toss a cheap tarp on top of a snowdrift, plunk my sleeping bag on top, and nestle in as the bag sank into the drift. I’d pull the tarp over me, hope my nose didn’t freeze off, and sleep like a baby.

Time came and went and the distractions of life did what they do; college, and work, and broken down cars, and moving from place to place all seemed important. A job became a career, and there were kids, and marriage (to the world’s most delightful wife!). Day to day focus, took my optional winter camping trips out behind the barn and put a bullet in them. I still camped sometimes. Maybe one campout per winter at best and a lot of camping by canoe. However, a canoe (like my motorcycle) is a creature of warm months. I was generally trapped indoors until the waters thawed enough to float canoes once more.

Recently, I’ve been camping more often. I’ve enjoyed ridiculously easy “State Park” summer camping. Nothing impressive, just a base camp from which to sail my homemade boat or ride my off-road motorcycle. Those simple campouts felt like a “renaissance”. Perhaps the wisest use of my time is to sit under a tree?


All was well until two months ago.

I was sleeping in my wonderful “Supertent“* with my awesome cot*. I was on a motorcycle ride / grouse hunt trip. When I rolled out of bed, it was chilly. I shivered. It was a shot across the logistical bow!

I wound up huddling by the fire cursing at how long the coffee took to heat. It wasn’t a big deal. Within an hour I was nice and toasty. By mid afternoon it was sweatshirt (not T-shirt) weather… but I’d gotten the hint. Winter was coming.

That was to be my last campout of the year. Soon the motorcycle would be stored, unused and inert. The tent too. It was a downer in a tough month. President Potato’s vaccine mandates were worming their way into my life. All has been chaos with society for years. My off grid solo campouts had become less a luxury than a necessary line to sanity. I felt a stab of cabin fever. So soon! Before the first flake of snow I already felt trapped.


This is when the dream snuck up on me and stuck a shiv in my head.

I camped in the winter when I was young and stupid. Why not camp in the winter now that I’m old and stupid?

Why indeed?

I unpacked good memories of winter camping and examined them. I’m no longer that guy. My back aches just thinking about lying in the fucking snow. Was I tough or dumb? Perhaps both. Regardless, laying on snow is officially done for me. I like my cot!

The idea wouldn’t leave. In retrospect the idea has been growing for years. Just simmering beneath the surface.

Something about that morning a few months ago pushed it over the top. Probably because it was paired with the threat of losing my job and the friction of a society that’s slowly crawling up its own ass; the need for escape to nature seems more urgent than ever before.

Do it now!

The Universe was offering the adventure. The heart wanted it, the spirit craved it, and the body was on board so long as the cot came with the package deal. It was the moment when one makes their choice. Does one drift in a state of catatonic loss or take action knowing the attending risk, expense, and hassle?

You already know how I roll. I’ve ordered this*:

And this*:

 

Wish me luck. Things might get interesting!

A.C.

*Note: Amazon gives me a small kickback if you buy something (anything!) from a link on my blog. It costs you nothing but I get beer money out of it.

About AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Adaptive Curmudgeon is handsome, brave, and wise.
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13 Responses to Dreams, Adventure, And Risk: Part 3

  1. Rob says:

    I wondered about that “young” curmudgeon remark, can there actually be a “young” curmudgeon? I always thought that was an old person only. I looked “curmudgeon” up…

    >>cur·mudg·eon
    /kərˈməjən/

    noun
    a bad-tempered person, especially an old one.
    Similar: bad-tempered person, crank, crosspatch, sourpuss, old trout.<<

    It says "especially an old one", so age is not a requirement in being a curmudgeon . It's good to learn something new everyday!

    Nice looking tent & wood burner, I hope it does what you want it to!

  2. Steve Otto says:

    i also did a lot of winter camping when young and stupid, not so much now (although we’re staying pretty well full-time in our recreational cabin, which is wood heat only – an acceptable compromise). My free advice (worth every penny you paid) is to have a in-tent stove near your cot, where you can reach it without getting out of your bag. It make a world or difference to be able to have a hot drink ready to go as you transfer from the warm coccoon to the cold, cold world (even inside the tent, it will be cold – and you probably can’t start the fire from on the cot).
    I am really enjoying your posts — thank you for sharing with me.

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      I’m already getting the idea. First thing I realized is that the opening where you put wood is a foot off the ground. So you can’t easily glance in there and carefully position the fuel. You sorta’ reach down and shove it in and hope for the best (which is usually fine). I think I’ll make some firestarters to compensate for reduced control. Other than that, it’s a nice little stove.

      Also, I don’t have a great sleeping bag. My old super cold weather ones are confining mummy bags (and decades old). My go-to bag is a comfy square shaped Teton bag rated for 0. I think I’ll eventually buy a Teton bag rated for colder. Or maybe some good wool blankets to go with it? Amusingly, sleeping bags are much cheaper if you can accept a bulky, heavy one. Since the tent’s already well over 50 pounds I don’t see the need for a lightweight bag.

      • Steffen says:

        You can always tuck an additional poncho liner or blanket inside the bag to improve heat retention. I’m sure you already know that a sleeping mat underneath with a high R value is a must.

        • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

          Underneath I have an elevated cot and a 3” thick Teton XXL mattress. Takes up a ton of space but it’s oh so comfortable.

          You’ve got a good idea. I’m thinking an “over blanket” might be superior to a heavy sleeping bag because half the time a hot tent is roasting and it’s easy to kick off.

  3. Mark Matis says:

    Never forget that tents on fire, especially if you are INSIDE at that time, are exciting! One hopes you carry an appropriate fire extinguisher and keep it readily available during your adventures…

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      It’s all pretty safe. The stove came with a genuine Russian smoke alarm with a genuine Russian 9volt battery. The battery was weak so I replaced it. The manual in Russian so I’ve no clue about the details. I think it’s a smoke detector but not a CO detector. I may get a CO detector too… in case I use a Mr. Heater. I still don’t know if a Mr. Heater with Oxygen sensor is a problem in the tent (either from exhaust or condensation). I haven’t yet found a tent sized fire extinguisher.

  4. JW says:

    First Alert Fire Extinguisher | Kitchen Value Pack, Tundra Fire Extinguishing Aerosol Spray, Pack of 2, AF400-2 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08148WXMM/ref=cm_sw_r_em_apa_glt_i_SE9DXN9K7TKQ7HJ720EF

  5. Otto says:

    Another bit of “really makes a difference” gear are insulated booties – down or one of the synthetic fills. It is nearly indescribable how much more comfortable you feel when you can get out of your heavy ( maybe wet and cold ) boots and slip into a warm, light bootie that you can wear outside or in the tent. You can even wear them in the morning, till your body is revved up and daytime footwear has been warmed to at least a few degrees above freezing.

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      I was thinking about that. I did a test run with croks as “not boot lounge footwear” and it was lame. Also I tracked in excess snow coming and going so the floor immediately in front of the stove was wet. (Or maybe I melted snow from underneath but I doubt it.) No big deal but no fun on bare feet. Definitely a thing to learn to manage.

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