I have this belief that if all else fails on the depression front, going up my mountain will fix me. It’s pretty much my fail-safe solution. It probably has to do with sleeping inside a tiny tent with the people who are driving you crazy. You go to sleep and there they are. You wake up and yep- that’s them again. You walk out to get some coffee, and three pairs of feet follow you to the camp stove.
There is no escape- only acceptance.
Plus there is all that fresh air and those piny smells. You’re covered in grime from head to toes. You can’t be glamorous while camping. You can only be yourself: crazy hair, dirt under your fingernails and your stomach filled with s’mores and hotdogs. It’s elemental in a way. You don’t get a choice about what you are going to do. You don’t have to plan anything or meet any deadlines. There is no one to pretend to like, or not like. And there is never a minute to get bored.
There are campfires and card games,
and camera tricks at dusk,
and pond fishing and hiking to keep everyone entertained.
And there are adorable little munchkins on their best behavior because they get to fill their bellies with powdered donuts for breakfast and hot chocolate and s’mores and CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE. And Mommy never says no because there is nothing to say no about. So, pretty much every one is happy.
Even me.
It’s possible that some people might not get the same mileage out of a camping trip that I get. I feel sorry for them. It feels like Mother Nature picked me up, dusted me off and gave me a big ‘ole smackeroo right on my forehead.
I don’t even mind coming home again because that means I get to hop in the shower and wash off all the grime. I get to feel clean and refreshed. The first camping trip of the year is like shedding my winter coat. Suddenly I’m a new.
Sometimes I wonder why I am still living here after all these years. It’s not the people. It’s not the schools. It’s not this rickety old house. There is really nothing keeping me here. And then I remember that this is just fifteen winding miles from my doorstep:
I can give up a lot to get to live with that little bit of information.
(There are half a million other pictures on my Flickr set: Camping 2010)
That’s awesome! What a beautiful place to camp. I agree, camping is such a beautiful way to spend a few days – and the first shower once you get home is bliss!
I’m trying to think of a word better than bliss and I can’t. But that’s what it is- better than bliss. Orgasmic? Okay, not quite that great.
Um that picture? You and baby boy? Seriously breathtaking in it’s simplicity and calm. Frame it!!
Mine is the beach. The beach is home to me. It makes me feel human, no matter what. Better. Brighter. Shiny. Something. Like the world is an okay place.
So I get this….even though camping and I don’t get along.
The beach has the same effect on me. If I was going to move any where ever again, it would be within driving distance of the beach. This mountain living is nice, but I would trade it in a second for some surf and sand.