Camp And Sail Part 2: Keep Not Quitting

Having burned a week’s pay before my first cup of coffee, I grabbed my tent and headed for the truck. I was immediately crushed. There was ¼ ton of shingles in the truck bed! Shit!

Bad wrist or not I had no solution but to empty the truck. It didn’t take long but wore me out something fierce. Then I loaded the truck with my heavy Russian Bear Market UP2 tent and the accompanying woodstove and all sorts of stuff that’s overkill for mild autumn weather.

Not a backpacking tent.

Screen tent and oars for scale. (I didn’t need the screen tent. The mosquitoes are mostly dead.)

It seemed like a whole lot of gear but there’s a method to my madness. I like to test things before it matters. Especially because a complex tent that could burn down with me in it has a bigger learning curve than my simple summer tent.

Not only that but bringing a sailboat entails a whole different level of “gotta’ have it” equipment. The boat has a million little components. Forgetting any one of them will kibosh the whole attempt. Life vest, oars, detachable rudder, etc… I racked my brains trying to remember all the stuff I’d need.

I almost forgot the mast! It had been sitting on hangers in my shop all year just patiently collecting dust. (As an aside, the mast is one of the things I’ve built of which I’m most proud. If you’re the sort who pines to build a boat… begin today. It’ll be one of the best things you’ve ever done.)

Mast lashed to cargo rack.

The sail, yard, and boom are all wrapped up and stuffed in a sewer pipe I mounted to the truck roof. I hadn’t opened that pipe in a year! For all I know there’s a dead rotten mouse in there that ate half the sail before it died. Rather than open it and inspect it and risk crushing disappointment, I just trusted that I’d made the sewer pipe carrier very well and left it closed.

Having loaded everything in the truck bed, I hitched my trailer to carry the boat and…. SHIT!

The trailer was filled with crap shingles from the roof project. Before my wrist gave out I’d removed a couple hundred pounds of old shingles and dumped them in the trailer!

Ok Curmudgeon, you can deal with this. Just be patient and get ‘er done…

Also, one of the magnetic trailer tail lights was nuked because of course it was. I apparently dropped a load of old shingles on it. So I drove to the dump planning for only left turns and hoping the cops wouldn’t give me shit. I emptied the trailer

Then I swung by where I get my pallet wood for free. (I’ve been bringing nail free “processed” pallet wood on campouts and it’s a genius solution.) They’d “cleaned house” by burning it all up. The horror!

Then I stopped at a NAPA for magnetic lights. $91 for magnetic lights? Fuck them!

By now I was getting a teeny tiny bit frustrated. “Fuck everything,” I seethed, “I wanna’ get out of here!”

Back home I still had to flip the boat myself… alone… with a sore wrist.

It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t fast but I did it. It was one of those “easy for two guys, physics conundrum for one strapping young lad, damn near impossible puzzle for a one winged injured geezer” problems.

Halfway there…

It doesn’t look bad for it’s age and sitting outdoors and uncovered all winter.

It took almost two hours to get the boat’s cradle into the utility trailer, the mast lashed to the truck roof, the boat flipped over, moved to the trailer, slid onto the cradle, and strapped down (the old straps are pretty shot). I arranged the defunct lights as if they worked. (I was hoping for plausible deniability; “Gosh officer it worked when I left my house.”)

I grabbed what’s left of my palette wood and rolled out. I decided to camp somewhere simple. No “adventurous” dispersed camping after the day I’d been having!

En route to the campsite (it was a long drive!), I bought new straps and new lights and a toolbag to hold them. All three added up to less than $91!

I also picked up a bottle of liquor. I didn’t care how much it cost, I damn well had earned it.

I didn’t bother installing any of the lights or straps, I just put the parts in my truck. “Gosh officer, I just bought new lights and plan to install them once I get to camp.” (Which would be true, in case it actually matters.)

I had brought a 99% empty cooler (The cooler had one packet of home raised bacon and an onion. Nothing more!) Amid my gear I’d brought some random canned goods, my “don’t leave home without it” supply of coffee, and a few dehydrated meals.

I stopped at a grocery store for fresh provisions. I had a revelation… people buy meat. I almost exclusively eat that I raise or hunt. I sometimes forget the simple obvious solution of buying meat. I wanted something simple and tasty so I picked up $15 worth of beef kabobs. (The price per pound about floored me. I don’t get out much and inflation never sleeps!)

I also grabbed some eggs, a bag of ice, and a pack of cookies. I didn’t have any specific plans but I had enough components to “wing it”.

I really wanted to stop at McDonalds. I was starving. But it was getting late. There was no time left if I wanted to get to camp in time. I’d been loading shit into and out of my truck for hours!

I ate potato chips and drove. Driving wasn’t helping my sore wrist but what are ya’ gonna’ do? I got to camp before the sun set… barely.

In a rush lest I lose all remaining light, I erected my tent. I even installed the wood stove (unnecessary but one needs to practice these things).

In case you’re a camper too I’ll offer handy details; I’d setup possibly one of the most bad ass tents in creation; a Russian Bear Market UP2 with the Caminus M woodstove.

Warning: These are not normal tents! Russian Bear Market doesn’t sell “weekend at the park” equipment and it doesn’t charge Walmart prices. Don’t even think of clicking on the link unless you’re prepared to see prices that will bend your understanding of space and time. Add that to the price disturbances of yet another dipshit land war in the area that (fortunately) froze out both Napoleon and Hitler’s plans for world domination. Then layer in the inflation of the Bidenverse. Eventually you’re looking at numbers that will break your heart and kick your soul in the nuts. Also, this gear is massive overkill for a “normal” person. If you’re the sort of guy who wouldn’t rule out hunting polar bears while camping solo on an ice floe in Greenland… well then click away. If you think you’re tough because you wear REI hiking socks to the mall, steer clear!

This is a badass tent. Overkill compared to regular equipment; perfect for my plans.

The UP2 setup is not the sub 15 minute brilliance my summertime system but it’s impressively fast; especially considering I wasn’t so much setting up a tent than deploying a fabric fortress. I think I took 45 minutes in total (counting the stove and chimney). I could probably shave that down to half an hour with a little practice; maybe even faster.

Having finished the tent, stove, cot, bedding, and other details, I tossed some pallet wood into my trusty folding stove (outside and not in the tent!) and lit a match. I poured a cup of liquor, sipped it, and took a deep breath…

The world was new again.

I’d made it!

I’d persevered until the mundane world gave up fucking with me. I could almost hear my soul breathing a sigh of relief.

I lit my lantern and let the fire die down as the sun set. I sat in a little circle of light in the vast dark forest. I’d attained a moment where no other concerns were pressing on me. I was at peace. (*Note, while my tent is astronomically expensive and may go higher. Meanwhile, the lantern I bought this spring has gone down in price. Go figure.)

The kebabs were delicious. I cooked them on my grill with almost no effort. I ate in the dark and began to recover. I’d brought enough kebabs for two nights but ate them both right away.

I’d made is. I kept thinking how grateful I was to be there. Escape velocity had been attained. How lucky I am that I didn’t give up.

I didn’t light the fire in the tent’s woodstove. It wasn’t necessary. I kept drinking bourbon and eating steak until the moon rose. Then, perhaps a bit tipsy, I crashed on my cot. It doesn’t necessarily make sense that you’ve got to drive far away from your house and sit in a lawn chair next to a fabric shelter to attain peace… but that doesn’t make it less true.

Stay tuned…

A moment of peace.