You’ve been planning this adventure forever; you and your buddies – you’ve never been – don’t know the first thing – neither do your friends. But you’re going because you’ve heard stories – campfires – millions of stars – sucking on the community jug of Red Mountain – free, independent, nature.
Never built a campfire – it’s only when somebody told you about freeze-dried food that you realize packing two weeks worth of canned goods would kill you.
Bad enough you don’t own hiking boots – out of the five of you, only one has any clue how camping works. That’s because she was a Girl Scout in 6th grade – lucky for you she’s your buddy’s girlfriend.
You’re heading to Yosemite – you’re excited – can’t wait. Bolt out of bed at 3 in the morning – ready to leave by 5 – stuffed everything including a shortwave radio into a bulging backpack that weighs as much as a Clydesdale. How you’re going to make it on a 20 mile hike without collapsing in a puddle of your own sweat is a mystery, but it doesn’t cross your mind.
You stagger out the front door of your parents house – your mom packs you a lunch. Your friends laugh as they see you struggle. Baloney sandwich, carrot sticks and an apple – not food for a hardcore camping trip. Your buddy’s girlfriend eyes the overloaded backpack and snorts – she’s packed the least of everyone. You think she might know something that you don’t. She’s convinced you’re an idiot.
You finally get there – sail past Fresno – trundle into Yosemite Valley and head for the High Country – the smell of Pine fills your head, so does shortness of breath. You didn’t bring cigarettes – but somebody brought a dime bag of dope. Everyone agrees firing up a joint would be perfect.
Nature – something else. You make it to the start of the trail and park. You fall out and grab your backpacks.
Even though you’ve been planning this trip for years, it’s taken you by surprise – you’re the only one who appears to be hiding a family of four in the duffle bag stuck to your back. Your buddy and the Girl Scout take off, energized and ready for adventure – you swear up and down they’ve done this before – your other two friends patiently wait for you to get your shit together and bring up the rear.
It doesn’t take long before you’re so far behind you can’t see the others – the silence is deafening and the air is full of flies and mosquitos. You feel like you’ve hiked fifty miles but you can still see the parking lot slowly growing painfully distant behind you. You now understand the concept of hiking boots, as your tennis shoes navigate rocks and streams and fail miserably – you also have figured out why people on hikes wear shorts as the jeans you’re wearing are baking your legs.
Nature everywhere but it’s slipped past you unnoticed – you’re busy staring at the ground, hoping you don’t trip over something or go careening into a stream. You’re dying of thirst but it dawns on you that a canteen didn’t make your check list. Chalk this up to a bad idea. Stream water actually tastes good.
It’s dark by the time you make it to basecamp. You know it’s basecamp because your group is the only one for miles and you spot the faint amber glow of the campfire.
Starving, thirsty, filthy – drenched in sweat and the night air is like leaving the air conditioner on. You stagger to your friends and they are all passed out – asleep – snoring.
You stake out a corner – open the duffle bag – produce three blankets and your pillow from home and collapse – every muscle in your body has stopped working and has decided to go into spasm. The sky is absolutely crammed to capacity with stars.
The best you can possibly do is lay there, facing the night sky and watch the moon rise in the distance. It quietly takes your breath away along with every enflamed and gyrating joint in your body.
You lay there with your mouth open and say “oh wow” a few thousand times.
You don’t know why, but you start to laugh.
Nature just does that.
Music for camping courtesy KROQ from August 1979 if you could pick it up that far.
