I went camping! Finally!
I’d found a cool new spot but another week passed while I pined to go. I did some research and the canoe landing was legal for free dispersed camping. Sweet!
Plans to camp Friday night (right after work) went to hell. I’d been to a doctor and he’d done doctor stuff. It’s all good and I’ll live and whatnot but I’d been put through a wringer and didn’t have the energy to pack the Jeep-Thing. Obviously, a motorcycle camping trip was inconceivable.
That night I slept poorly. I woke up creaky. While I’d been sleeping it had rained steadily. At this rate, the forest is going to go from spongy wet to flat out slime-mold!
However, by afternoon the rains were fading. I could stand no more. I’d camp even if it was in a downpour!
I started hurling shit into the Jeep-Thing during brief moments when the sky looked even remotely blue. I ignored my un-mowed feral lawn and hoped the drizzle would cease. It did, grudgingly, and I took off at the crack of 5:00 pm. That’s waaaaaay too late for a sane departure. It’s all I could manage.
I got to the location with limited sunlight left and my gear in total disarray. It was only a week after I found the spot and I hadn’t thought over which gear made sense for that particular location. I’d taken some of the stuff I’d separated from motorcycle camping, crammed it back into my Dodge-based Milwaukee Packouts, and hurled the Packouts into the Jeep-Thing. I wasn’t sure what I’d grabbed and what I’d forgot. However, I brought a lot of crap so I’d be OK. I’m adaptive if nothing else, the mishmash heaped in the vehicle probably included some combination of stuff that would work.
Also, I’d brought cold beer and a huge steak. What more did I really need?
There was a Toyota parked at the landing. Oh no! It would be unforgivably rude to setup camp if someone was already there. I’m not sure I’d have enough sunlight to find somewhere else!
Lucky for me, the Toyota was abandoned. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Someone had either parked it here and was merrily paddling downstream away from it, stationed it here and was paddling downstream toward it, or maybe they were only out for the afternoon and would return at dusk. Who knows? The important part was a logistics vehicle meant they weren’t camping so much as positioning equipment.
For those of you who don’t know; “dispersed camping” is a window into varying human interaction in the hinterland. It’s a whole different world. Allow me to expand upon this…
If you go to a State or Federal designated campground there will be dozens or hundreds of campsites. There will be vehicles, people, dogs, bicycles, kids, RVs, campers, tents, and the lively chatter of happy humans. There will also be rules and social norms. You’ll drop $20-$40 (usually through an online reservation system that takes an unavoidable fee for the service) and in exchange get a smallish spot amid a hive of beings. (Off season is a different thing. Once overnight temps drop below freezing, dogs, kids, RVs, and so forth cease to exist. All that are left are a few hardened self-supporting folk, much rarer and quieter.) Your money presumably pays for the services you get; plumbing or pit toilets, Park Rangers who prowl around looking grim but usually (unless you’re at the mercy of the simpleton bastards at Yellowstone National Park) leaving you unmolested, electric hookups, firewood (which you have to buy), mowed areas, and various other shit.
Dispersed camping is free and you get nothing. You know all those people who say they’re libertarian but never stop bitching about whatever service they demand from the Government? Well this calls their bluff with a two by four. Dispersed camping is your chance to experience true libertarian values. Which is why I love it!
Not everyone can roll with it. You need to be a different breed of cat to be fine with nothing. There are no reservations. No prowling Park Rangers. No outhouses (with some exceptions). Etc… Often, the best places aren’t even mapped. Are there bears? Probably. Will windthrown trees block your egress in the morning? Maybe. Is there cell service? Rarely.
“Campsites” vary from awful to majestic. They might be a tiny nook under a single tree or a vast prairie under the skies of God. The unruled, unknowable, absence of people is a wild card. Dispersed sites are often utterly empty, bereft of humans; which is my goal. Camp alone like that and you might learn things about yourself you didn’t know. I think many (most? nearly all?) people have never ever spent much time completely on their own. If you’re of the wrong personality the vast emptiness of the universe might swallow you up. It’s all up to you and who you are. If you’re like me, you might sip bourbon next to a campfire and laugh aloud at the joy of it all.
It’s a bit of a gamble deciding how close you’re willing to camp to someone else. I usually won’t camp within a mile or two of other dispersed people. That’s just my choice but I’m not the only one who thinks like that. People who prefer dispersed camping tend to be independent, self-supporting, solitary creatures or groups of just a few. If I want solitude it’s only fair to preserve it for others. Thus, it’s good form to actively avoid other dispersed campers. (Exceptions are dispersed “campsites” with multiple “camp spots”. Even then, pick a spot and leave the other spots alone.)
One special exception is if you stumble across a super redneck family clan in a dispersed camping situation. This is rare but it happens. You’ll occasionally find a mobilized multi-vehicle encampment in mid hootenanny… maybe it’s a family group… or a group that’s ostensibly hunting (which is basically the same thing but with more guns)… or even a family reunion (which has the same amount of guns but more old folks and kids). In any case, you’re not going to get a nature experience if you rudely camp nearby. Accept the inevitability of what you’ve encountered. Either clear out or wander over and crash the party… which I highly recommend. If you bravely walk in like a Stellar Jay looking for an abandoned crumb of food there’s a good chance you’ll be loaded with delicious food and awful beer in no time. Hold steady! Tough out the shitty music they’ll inevitably be playing and laugh at whatever jokes they’re telling. Soon you’re in like Flynn! You’re going to have all the fun you can survive. Trust me on this; you’ll never have a wilder time than when you crash a few dozen rednecks all camping at once. Unless you’re a bitchy vegan headcase, in which case you should run.
Anyway I was looking for solitude that night. That’s why, if there’d been a single pup tent near the Toyota, I’d have left rather than “crowd” them.
I staked my claim and set to making camp. I was mildly concerned I’d freak the canoers out by my mere presence. People strategically stashing vehicles at canoe landings might be a mite worried to find some bearded weirdo drinking beer next to a rusty Jeep-Thing. Then again, fuck ’em.
A note about leaving your vehicle in a dispersed camping area: If you park a Toyota and come back to find a bearded weirdo with a Jeep-Thing camping in the area, don’t panic. If he was going to steal it, your Toyota would already be gone. Also, this is the forest not the ‘hood, so raise your expectations of humanity. There’s far fewer thugs in the hinterland than you’ll find in an urban WalMart parking lot. Don’t freak out about rural white supremacist Jesus freak maniacs like the gibbering ninnies on NPR and you might meet an actual normal friendly human being.
Anyway, I made camp and all was well. More to come…