Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Ode to Camping

No hot shower. No soft bed. Sunlight glaring in your face before you are ready to wake. Noisy trailer generators hum at varied distances, masking the sounds of birdsong you wanted to hear. Sap on tabletops. Your ancestors strived to live indoors. Conestoga wagons in the hot sun.

Now there is a caveat: a hike too far from civilization to plug in anything, a remote location where the stars at night seem to arrive in shifts as your eyes adjust to the darkness, a cool snow-melt lake, waves gently curving to shore as they have been since before humans took over, bare basics of food packed in, trash packed out, peace, quiet, observation, near silent walks on soft fallen pine-needles, conversation with like-minded companions, birds that flit, swoop and sing.  Raise the food high away from bears and deer, wrapped well against the squirrels.  Stare at the sky through branches, boughs even, rest. Of course there is a reason to camp. Do I want to go?  No.  But do I want to be there? Of course.

sequoia trees by jeanosullivan 2019 March Sequoia National Forest

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