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The ache is starting to become more bearable, but it's far from
gone. Glancing at my calendar to see "4 years" scratched out
triggers it and hard.
This weekend a small group of us trundled off to the mountains for a
campout to celebrate Todd's 30th birthday. Tammy and Todd, Miki and
Sean, Karen and JD, Jeanne, Doug, Patrick, Forrest, myself. Todd had
reserved a whole campground for us near Pollock Pines, a beautiful
spot right next to the river and with monumental rocks to perch on
like marmots.
Some universal camping truths:
Fall camping is tricky. It will be beautiful during the day but
freezing at night. A brand-new tent and mummy bag will help you
believe you will survive. Wacky self-activated handwarmer bags
stuffed inside your down jacket also help.
You must check to make sure the six-pack you buy is genuine alcoholic
beer, not near beer. Scary Gilka liquor complete with penguin
illustration on the bottle ("Tastes like liquid rye bread!") will get
the job done in a pinch, however.
Watch out for falling pine cones.
You will spend a restless night wondering if a bear would rip your
tent open in its search for your toothpaste.
Seeing your ex camping by himself in the tent you and he spent many a
snuggly night together is hard.
Everyone else will see amazing shooting stars, but you won't.
Luna bars are impossible to bite into first thing in the morning when
they've been frozen by the cold mountain air all night.
Pitching and striking your own tent provides a marvelous sense of
independence and accomplishment. Especially if you do said activities
in a skimpy top.
Vault toilets are scary.
Hunters suck.
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Heidi J. De Vries
