I had driven, with a truckload of camping gear, to exactly the forest meadow I wanted. Then came a huge plot twist. (There’s always a plot twist. That’s why dispersed camping is nothing like renting a designated campsite.)
The meadow was in an area where “dispersed camping” wasn’t allowed! Land under Federal control has a plethora of rules, limits, regulations, zones, and plans. When I’d been there a few weeks prior I’d checked and rechecked the map. I was sure the meadow was appropriate for “dispersed camping”. But when I got there it obviously just wasn’t so.
It was on the wrong side of an arbitrary boundary line! How had I missed that line just a few weeks earlier? It was pretty clear once I noticed it. I glared at the map and the sign in the forest and considered it from all angles. I was screwed. No amount of squinting at the compass would change the boundary. The meadow was OK for hunting or a picnic but not OK for overnight camping. Damnit!
I try to follow natural resource rules as best I can. Obeying rules (when they’re reasonable), is one of the traits that separate the honorable man from politicians and assholes. Nobody would have cared (or noticed) if I camped there but I’d have known and that’s all that matters. I certainly could have “hidden my camp”. It would be easy to setup out of view of the road. The road is almost always empty anyway. It’s dirt, hardly used, and goes from nowhere to nowhere. (When I’d been there for the picnic we saw only one truck drive by in 3+ hours.) But that wouldn’t change the fact of my behavior. I could cheat, but that’s not my way. (One caveat; in a true wilderness emergency I’ll setup camp anywhere necessary and do so without hesitation.)
I got back in the truck and kept driving.
So now what? Sunset was coming fast and I didn’t have a plan.
I sifted though my mental model of the terrain and pointed the truck toward a different place. Half an hour later I was at a sweet little semi-abandoned church in the forest. It’s on Forest Service land but the vicinity had a few camping spots and fire rings indicating it’s fine for camping. It wasn’t my original plan but it was the only nearby option. I found it just about a year ago. I wrote about it here:
“Nestled beneath tall pines, was a crude little church. It was in an area that had clearly been flattened in an old forest fire. These pines must have grown after the fire, and most of that happened after the homesteads and villages were gone? The little church was older than the trees around it. It was shady there and sweet smelling. I counted seven UTVs and one ATV. There was a smattering of picnic tables. Some were unused, some had UTVs and people picnicking there. A bit further off, a group had started a fire in a steel ring. They were cooking over the fire and lounging in chairs.”
I was nervous about this. The planned empty meadow (without the slightest hint of services) fit my style. It was terribly remote but that’s just a logistics issue. Solve problems in the order and urgency in which you see fit. Provide for yourself what nobody else is providing. Easy peasy.
The new alternative was entirely different; it was a church!
Who knows what that entails? A church means a community. Someone takes care of that church. People must worship there. They might invite me to attend. There might be introductions and, God forbid, hugging! I like the idea of churches and I’m super glad people go to them but I’m a part of no groups. I have a great deal of respect but no desire to join. I was near sick with concern I’d be doing some faux pas on the holy grounds of the little church.
Alas, you do what you must with what options you’re given. At that moment I needed a firepit and flat ground; and I needed it soon. It was the best option left.
As I’d remembered, there were a few informal spots and an outhouse adjacent to the old pioneer church. I remembered a slightly removed little opening, the remnant of a long gone homestead. That would put me a bit further away. But as I swung the truck around I saw it was occupied by a clan (or family). There were three trucks, two campers, a handful of UTVs, some dogs and (judging from the sound) a few kids. I couldn’t impose upon that!
There was naught for me but to camp closer. I was right in the shadow of the church. This wasn’t just any church. It was an old revered aging pioneer church from a lost time and built to serve a town that’s gone. If you’re going to trod your unworthy feet around a church uninvited, it ought to be one of those crappy urban shopping center churches. They lack the whiff of holy. This was totally different. I have reverence for that which merits reverence, and this place is special. I sometimes show my respect for special things by keeping my ignorant self away from them. This whole situation made me nervous.
I parked the truck and hoped I had a good enough soul for what I was about to do.
The small but cozy campsite was a couple hundred yards from the happy clan. Closer to the church. There was nobody else for miles and miles. Despite my misgivings, the site was gorgeous. It was nestled deep in a shady conifer grove. The ground was flat and mossy underfoot. (No need to worry about grass!) There was a nice, if somewhat battered, picnic table. There was a rusted but serviceable fire ring. Tree branches spread overhead, outhouses were stationed not far away, and an endless flow of water from a little artisan well burbled in the distance. It was beautiful and had everything I needed. I could hardly complain.
The temperature was dropping fast but, wisely, I didn’t rush. I setup my hot tent with extra care. I staked down more than the minimum, fretted over the orientation of the door, installed the optional “hard door” (a sweet feature on this tent!), and so forth. Even so, it didn’t take long.
By my reckoning it took less than 45 minutes to go from “truck is parked” to “ready to ride out the worst of winter conditions”. That includes everything. No cheating! Camp is ready when the cot is setup in a well staked tent, and the sleeping bag and mattress are rolled out, and there’s some minimal firewood positioned in the hot tent near the stove. (And of course the stove and chimney are assembled and installed.)
In that time I’d even lit the lantern. It was sitting on the picnic table with my food box and lawn chair close by. Everything was ready to start cooking dinner.
45 minutes is not as fast as my patented 11 minute summer camp setup, but it’s good for what I was doing. (I’ll never break 11 minutes with a winter setup anyway. There are far more details for winter stuff; half of which is the assembly of the stove itself.)
With practice I’ll have it down to half an hour for “truck parked” to “fire lit”. You never know; heat and shelter in 30 minutes might save my life someday.
Speaking of heat, the firewood in the tent was the last of my pallet wood… my pallet source has dried up! The area around camp had tons of fuel but a lot of it was fairly wet and the rest was partly rotten. Using adequate but punky materials, I lit a smoky fire in the fire ring (not in the tent’s wood stove). I used the fire to dry out more wood for use later in the evening. It was getting chilly!
The clan in the other campsite was relatively quiet. Nothing to complain about. I had plans for an elaborate dinner but there had been just too much hassle just getting there. I defaulted to Mountain House.
When all needs had been attended to, I did the most important thing of all: I sat by the fire for many hours.
More on that in the next post…