Deep night fell with a hush on the campground, so The Boy and Burb Dawg and I retreated from the bat cave to our little site.
I forgot to bring a lamp.
But I remembered the pre-soaked charcoal -- and matches -- and there was a stray log in our fire ring. A fire commenced.
I broke out the Coleman burner and, with the help of my kid's way-too-big knife, cooked up a dinner fit for a preteen king: bacon. Just bacon. Well, okay, you know me -- I also had some tortillas and cheese to go with the pig. Nothing says love like a thick arterial coating.
The bacon-stirring was coming along nicely when The Boy sliced his finger open with the way-big knife that he'd convinced me just that day to buy for him. We'd been chatting while he did what any boy does with a new sharp object: cleaning bacon fat from the blade with his finger only to be so mezmerized as to test out that enticing edge...
He was incredibly stoic. We are so far from where we were several years back.
Soap-and-water, a little iodine, a band-aid, and back to the bacon. Burb Dawg watched the darkness that spoke to him with strange voices while he lay tethered on the concrete pad under our picnic table. Dawg Prison. The Boy and I burned marshmallows over our awesome fire and talked about life. Some of it's good.
Next, the obligatory photoshoot of UFO's, a quick trip for all campers to designated relief areas, and then to bed.
Burb Dawg prefers the Buddhamobile, figurin it to be our Little House on Wheels. The Boy and I were tent-cozy. The temperature outside was nothing less than perfect.
"No shoes in the tent!"
"But Mom, shouldn't you bring them in, in case it rains?"
"Nah, it'll be fine. It ain't gonna rain."
Of course, it rained. But not enough to make the tent leak, just enough to wake me and then lull me back to dreamland. And dampen my tennies.
The dawn saw a lonely Dawg and sleepy Boy.
I whipped up a fantastic camp breakfast,
then it was off to hike the eager paws off the dog,
catch a fat tadpole,
climb a hill,
see some pretty stuff,
and squeeze in a family photoshoot.
Then we loaded up basecamp and abandoned Dawg in the Buddhamobile
for a quick unencumbered jaunt on a different trail. The park map being what it was -- in need of updating, apparently -- I used the one bar I could find on my phone to text our whereabouts before setting out. Two bottles of water, a fourth of a chocolate bar (88%), half a bag of shelled sunflower seeds, and a couple of Pop-tarts accompanied us.
The quick jaunt took a couple of hours.
Eventually, The Boy laid down at a dry creek crossing, expressing his intention to die there. I was prepared to shoot video of his death, but we had too much fun laughing instead.
We kept trudging. Pretty sure that map needs an update.
But yes, we made it to where we thought we might come out (but where we'd kinda hoped not to, because it was a solid couple of miles from where the car was parked...)
I love hiking.
The Boy cratered about a mile down the road. He perched on a rock ledge while I finished a solo journey to the Buddhamobile. Burb Dawg was sleeping soundly. I drove back and fetched The Boy from the ledge.
On the way home, we grabbed a snack -- a Slim Jim and two boxes of Tic-Tacs, plus some juice -- at the only place open in a little town that was closed for Spring Break.
Stopped and shot a photo of the remainder of another town named for the trees that had been harvested for telegraph poles. The gas pump was stuck at $1.99...
The best part of camping is always the shower and comfy bed that follow.
The idea of donning a backpack and walking along (or thru) a huge land mass or exploring the flora and fauna one can really only see if one is IN its midst for a few days enchants me. It may not be everyone's cup of tea, but many spirited women I know love to be in the wilderness and don't mind missing a shower now and again to be there.
Posted by: mystery guest | 05/25/2011 at 08:29 PM