In my last post, I arrived home after dark in my “old truck”. I was too tired to squeeze it in it’s corner of the barn. I parked it outdoors next to the hulking but modern Dodge. It was quite the contrast.
The hulking Dodge grumbled; “Carbureted? Do you even lift bro?”
The battle hardened old truck is easily triple the Dodge’s age but it’s tough as nails. If trucks can go to Valhalla this one will kick in the front door and take Odin’s lunch money. The old truck has been everywhere and “done things”. It was not impressed by the young gym rat Chrysler built. “Fuck with me and I’ll break you in half.”
Quoth the Dodge. “Yes sir.”
I’m going to assume our old hatchback kept its mouth shut.
The next day dawned glorious and sunny. I had plans to mow the lawn (which has been criminally ignored). The “old truck” had other plans.
“Morning trucks.” I grinned. I’d have to move both of them to make room for the lawn mower. (Don’t you park on the grass too?)
“Get in!” The old truck ordered. “It’s sunny. In a week or a month there will be snow. Do it now!”
I instantly agreed. I’d found a nice dispersed campsite on a dirt bike ride the week previous. It’s hard finding a GOOD dispersed site and especially one that might be (given a good enough truck) winter accessible. It was the perfect weekend to “investigate further”.
Mrs. Curmudgeon was delighted to hear the old truck fire up. There has been too much sorrow in our house this year. She knows I’m happier when I “adventure”. I grabbed a cooler and stuffed a couple hot dogs and a few beers in it. I grabbed my “coffee kit” too. And matches of course. She gave me a big hug and sent me off to play. A loving wife is the best thing a man can ever have. (I’m sure she was glad to have the house to herself for the day too.)
I headed out and promptly got lost. I’d only been there once and my dirtbike naturally takes trails differently than the truck. This has less to do with logistics than regulation. The modern world of big two seat UTVs has created trails wide enough for most smallish trucks or jeeps. Within reason, either of my vehicles can handle most trails, but some are for vehicle class X and some are for class Y. I try hard to obey the many confusing regulations. The truck had to go around certain places where the bike went over. This disoriented me. I wound up zig zagging in the vicinity without finding my target.
On a sandy road/trail without a name I found a “herd” of UTVs. There were maybe six or eight of them. Humans travel in packs. When they’re on “recreational equipment” they form packs of like minded people with similar machinery. The men all gathered around my truck asking about MPG and enthusing that I could go anywhere with that. Funny to see a guy with a new $20,000 Razor impressed that my antique rustbucket can traverse tough terrain. Admittedly, I’ve got more clearance than a Razor but they’re both awesome machines. Short of tracks what more is there for either of us? (I laughingly think that anything that could stop any of the machines present would be passible to my dirtbike.)
One UTV guy’s wife called my truck “cute” or maybe me… but I’m guessing the truck.
Did they know about the dispersed camping site? Not really. I was within a mile or less but couldn’t quite figure out if I should go south or north. Some people drive through nature and others camp in it and there’s surprisingly little overlap among the two. The toughest coolest heavily modded UTVs are less likely to be dispersed camping than some redneck in a battered F-150.
One of the younger riders surprised me. He was fiddling with his phone but then he suddenly looked up and announced my destination was due south. He held up a satellite map. Nice!
I memorized the map and set off. Shortly I found the place. It was perfect!
I had work on Monday. The limit of my precious available time was a single afternoon. There was no time to camp overnight. All I wanted to do was “chill”. Also I wanted to ponder camping here in the future.
This place, with a righteous fire ring, was perfect! It was quiet, accessible but not too accessible, clean, and mellow.
I’d brought one of my favorite modern camping toys… an electric chainsaw. Too heavy for backpacking but light as a feather to a truck. How much easier Boy Scouts would have been if battery operated chainsaws had existed back then! I buzzed up a small dead pine and soon had a spiffy fire going.
I’d brought a full size lawnchair but wound up in my little backpacking chair. I didn’t plan it, it just happened. I notice a lot more “it just happened” on the tail end of a hard year.
I slumped in my chair and lost attention long enough to turn a perfectly good hotdog into charcoal. Which didn’t bother me one bit; I crunched into it like I didn’t give a shit, which I didn’t.
I felt a little lonely; an occupational hazard of solo woodsmen. To my surprise, there was cell phone service. I chatted happily with friends from far away. Then I grabbed my hunting jacket and wandered around an hour or so getting absolutely outwitted by a couple squirrels; not that I minded.
Back at the truck, I surveyed my little domain. A big flat open spot in the middle of a young pine plantation. Excellent fire ring. The grass was short and convenient. Either someone mows it a couple times a year or it gets burned in the spring. Probably the former. Not a lot of wood nearby but enough for immediate needs and if I got there by truck I could go find an infinite supply within a quarter mile. With my little chainsaw the sky is the limit.
I didn’t want to go home.
I drank a cold beer and then restarted the fire to brew hot cocoa. Both were delicious. Time passed in a happy pointless haze. I had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no worries about anything.
I enjoyed the “now” and I dreamed of the future.
I haven’t been “brave enough” to take my hot tent into the forest during the winter yet. This spot might change my calculations. It is pretty accessible. If there’s less than a foot of snow my “old truck” can get there. This isn’t a simple thing though. The old truck doesn’t have a heater. In the winter it’s like driving a frozen tin shed in a hurricane wind.
Maybe the old ATV could be coaxed to life.. but only for a few inches of snow. No matter, that’s a tomorrow problem. Today’s goal was to bank up on depleted “chill” and I’d done a fine job of it.
Just before sunset, I rolled out. My old truck found its way home; trusty as a compass.
I’m glad I took its counsel.