Moved Camp

I've made another move, this one deep into the woods where I'm much more out of sight of people moving by on the trails.  And they do move by.  Walking.  Ambling.  Being pulled along by this dog or that.  You know, just...walking...going by.

Anyway, I went back to the site while it was still daylight yesterday evening.  I was feeling a bit worn-out from the usual routine and more than a bit uneasy about where I'd been camping.  Along the way I stopped to cut off some particularly nasty thorny branches whose sole purpose seems to be to grab at me or the bike.

Tough little suckers.  Man!

I rolled the bike to the new site, then went and got my tent and blankets from the stash.  Still there.  Very good.  Not to have been there?  Not good.  That would have meant tarp and poncho, wrapped in every thread I've got.  Definitely not good.

But they were there.  At the site, I looked for stones and bumpitees which might disturb my rest.  This is not the Princess and the Pea type of thingie.  The carpet underlayment does a good job of smoothing the little things out.

Tent up, bed made, pillow inflated.  Ahhhhh, that pillow.  The wine bladder hobo pillow really did the trick.  An elegant solution.

 In the morning I'm sitting there smoking when I spot movement down at the last campsite.  Then I see two guys way off on the path, walking along, mismatched hard hats.  Hmmmm.  What's going on here?

They move on and I don't have a clue.  Do they represent a threat to the integrity of my camp?  I'm not thinking that.

Eventually I pack, leaving everything there.  The tent...gasp...UP.

See, there's so much condensation in the morning from my breathing during the night that to leave the blanket rolled up in the tent would pretty well dampen it out.  Uncomfortable.  Don't want that.

So the agreement is that I'll get a couple a plastic bags for from-now-on.  Hoping the Dancer aqrees.

I have only the backpack, loaded up with that which I simply cannot afford to lose along with layers of clothing in case it turns cool.

On my way out I run into one of the guys who'd passed by.  They've been maintaining the trail, apparently.  The movement I'd seen was a pickaxe being swung up and down.  Raking spoor everywhere.  Mystery solved.  Community Service?

The bike is light.  Amazingly so.  I hop on shortly after the dogs begin having a collective meltdown and ride down that bumpity rutted lane, dodging the bigger rocks and keeping the speed old-man-reasonable.

The day rubs the sleep out of its eyes now, and McDonald's is just ahead there on the right.  I'm rolling downhill now and the bike is just a-humming.  I feel just a bit of that thrill I felt as a child when I'd first really gained the skills to ride the bike.  Nearly sixty years ago.

So the day is beautiful.  Ahead of me, at both sides of me, to the rear of me. Beauty all around me.

Which is just another way of talking about...

You.


Peace, aloha, great campsites,

E.