I came home from my camping trip a day early. No particular reason, aside from knowing my Traveling Partner was missing me, and the day looked rainy when I woke this morning, and honestly? I felt “done”. It was a great camping trip, filled with self-reflection, meditation, coffee-drinking (it was terrible), sleeping on the ground (with very comfortable mats, and it was deeply restful, if not continuous), birdsong, breezes, and aggravatingly long walks to well-cared for vault toilets. So… it was a good camping trip that met many needs, with few complaints (I’d have to really dig deep, and I don’t care to make that effort just now).
I got to the site on Sunday, earlier than I’d planned – and damn am I grateful that I made that change! The peak heat of the day hit 96 degrees, even out there in the trees, and there was no breeze to cool off with that day. The air was still and stifling hot. My gear felt heavy. So heavy. I broke it down into smaller loads and slowed down; 4 trips down the trail and back to get my gear into camp. By the end of that first day, I was exhausted. I was also fine. I made a point to drink ample water, and brought a good supply of my own on the chance that the water in the park might for any reason be limited, inaccessible to me, or not potable for some reason. I also stocked the big cooler with proper electrolyte beverages (in this case, Pedialyte). I was glad I did. That first day could have turned out poorly without good hydration – and a plan to stay well-hydrated in spite of the heat.
Time well-spent.
The days rolled by gently, and the weather cooled off for the rest of my time out among the trees. That first night several large-ish groups and several obvious families lugged their gear down into the camp site, got set up, got frustrated with the heat, packed up all their shit and headed back out before the sun ever even set. By morning, there were only three sites occupied (out of 21), and I may as well have been alone. The solitude was drenching and thoroughly delightful. I wiled away quite a few lovely hours just listening to the wind blow, the chatter of nearby chipmunks, and the buzzing of insect life all around me. I let everything else just… go. Once, during the night, on one evening or another, my anxiety began to flare up for no obvious reason. My brain chased after it, like a cat after a dangled string. I got up from my resting place, restlessly, and wandered out into the darkness. I spotted the fat golden moon – some “super moon” or another. It was lovely and large, looming over the night, peeking through the hemlocks and maples. My anxiety fled – it could not compete with that fat round moon. LOL
Lovely quiet days. Lovely quiet nights. I read a book my Traveling Partner gave me (Richard Feynman’s “Six Easy Pieces”). I drank dreadful instant coffee, smiling so hard my face hurt. I relaxed. Thoroughly. I slept well and deeply. I even managed to enjoy my stay without becoming a feast for the mosquitoes – only just found a couple bites this afternoon, on my shoulder in a spot I obviously missed with the Deet. LOL There’s a lesson in there somewhere.
I glance at my email. Messages from friends and former colleagues, things that can wait for tomorrow. Soon enough to begin again.
I will soon be measuring self-care in miles kilometers… or maybe pounds kilograms. I’m looking forward to my camping trip. Excited about the location. Excited about the downtime. Giving my gear a little side-eye. There is real effort involved in packing my gear to the site, and then packing it back out. I’m not even bitching – a lot of things require a handful of verbs and some real effort. Sweat.
The forecast is for some sunny summer weather. Not horrifically hot (or I’d cancel and stay home), and definitely summer. There is a small chance of rain showers about mid-way through my trip. My Traveling Partner teases me about the potential I may give up on it and come home early. I often do. About 40% of my camping plans face some sort of significant change between plan and execution. I don’t take that personally about myself – it’s not a lack of commitment to the adventure. It’s more a firm commitment to skillfully taking care of myself. I’m okay with that. 😀
I still haven’t found my Kindle. My Traveling Partner gently suggests, perhaps, maybe, there is some limited potential that I may have, inadvertently, tossed it out in some careless or absent-minded moment? I can’t eliminate that possibility. I’ll no doubt have to replace it at some point. In the meantime, it’s not a high priority, and I’ve got plenty of bound books. I pick a couple for the trip. My partner buys me a book he thinks I’d enjoy and I add that to my items to be packed.
Looks like an interesting selection. Where to begin? Feynman.
I am looking forward to this handful of hot days with a light heart. A few miles on the trail and a couple days in the trees with my camera sounds really good, and I am ready to go. 🙂 One more night of good sleep here at home, and coffee with this human being I hold so dear, and then… some time listening to myself think. 😀
Omg, just… fuck this entire day, already. I’d laugh but I’m still working through pulling myself back from the brink of this absolutely pointless and unproductive tantrum. Honestly, I suspect I’m just thoroughly “peopled out” and then some; I really really really earnestly and most definitely just need a real break and some time (days) alone. It feels like one thing after another, right now, and I’m at grave risk moment-to-moment of losing perspective. I mean – it could be worse. I could be living a life that puts me at real risk of actual harm. This is not that. I could be struggling to survive at all, and this is not that, either. I’m just fussy, and over having to attend to the demands of others around me (without regard to whether those are reasonable, or whether I’m paid to deal with those). Over. It. I need some me time, and I’ve let this need go unmet too long, most recently simply because I was too sick to enjoy the plans I had made to meet this need – the postponement was necessary. Now I’ve just got to get through this week…
…One new beginning at a time.
So, yeah. I’m cross. My morning hike was okay. The sunrise was lovely. It was fine. Hard to find real satisfaction in it; my Traveling Partner woke while I was out on the trail. Our first (digital) interaction was complicated by my involvement with other things and his pre-coffee state. Misunderstanding and miscommunication – sorted out before I returned home, but before any of that, it distracted me from my own experience and what I was doing (for myself) in the moment. Later I got to be talked-down-to by a stranger helping my neighbor next door. He could not have known I am an artist and I work in color – a lot – or that I’m knowledgeable about such matters. A discussion between my partner and I about the color the house next door is being painted opened the door for this other person to “helpfully” interject his opinions. I managed not to bite his head off, but I was on the edge of being rude when I firmly dismissed his opinion and turned my back. Two or three more such moments, in the context of the work day, stacked up on each other and I’m just fucking done. I have shit to do, and prefer to be quietly productive and not interrupted. So far, even that isn’t working out ideally well.
I end up starting my Monday cross with the world, and daydreaming about my upcoming camping trip intently. I keep pulling myself back to the work in front of me – which reminds me how irritable I am, all over again. Not my best bit of adulting, today. I let my irritability keep driving me to follow-up on the details. Power bricks all charged? No? Do that. Hey, how about that Kindle? Am I taking it? Maybe? Is it charged? No? Do that, too. Camera batteries all fully charged? They get their turn on the charger, too. Are my toiletries packed for camping? I make a note to tackle that on a break, later. Little details that matter out on the trail; I just keep at it. The thoughts come. I put them to use. It’s one way to burn off some of this irritation through useful activity. My results vary, but I figure if I just keep at it, eventually I’ll be over my bullshit.
No idea what the noise outside is… sounds like someone cranking an engine that will not start. Could be something to do with the painting going on next door. A construction project in my partner’s shop? I just want to work. I just want to stop hearing things. My tinnitus is so loud… how is there still all this annoying noise?? I breathe. Exhale. Relax. Remind myself to let it go; none of this, not any of it, is at all personal – even my irritability is likely more symptomatic than “about” anything happening right now. I put on noise canceling ear-covering heavily padded headphones. No music. Just… quiet. It’s that day. At least right now. Now I’ve simply got to nudge myself in the direction of beginning again…
Sick time activities tend on the easy low-effort side, for me, and I’ve spent quite a lot of time the last few days (between naps and hot showers) looking over pictures of previous camping trips to the same general location I’ll be going next. I noticed fairly quickly that “the numbers don’t add up” – the campsites are numbered, and I reliably snap a picture of the site I’ve selected, and note the number in my itinerary and various writings. I tend to favor sites that are the most distant from other campers, wherever I go. As I’ve said before; I go for the solitude. 🙂
Like, seriously, out among the trees, camped surrounded by dense tall nettles. Manufactured solitude. 😀
During the pandemic, I didn’t get much camping in. (Duh) There was that last trip in August 2019 – before the pandemic – and then “at long last” another in August 2021, when pandemic restrictions were beginning to lift (rather briefly, as I recall, before returning for some while…I hope I am remembering that correctly). That most recent trip was not down into the deeper, quieter, hike-in camping – that camp ground was closed for substantial repairs, and even the trail down into that area was closed. There had been some serious storms that took down trees, flooded trails, and caused a lot of damage (I read, but did not see for myself). When I went to book my upcoming trip, I noticed something odd… there was a particular site I was considering reserving… only… it didn’t exist on the map at all, now. Actually – there are two fewer sites than there had been, and two of those that were removed were among the four sites that were singularly “remote” (by a notable distance) from the others (and each other). One of these now-missing sites was one I greatly enjoyed. Change is. The other I hadn’t yet tried out, but found visually very pleasing, and had considered it more than once. These changes briefly tested my sanity; could I really be remembering things this incorrectly?? Could I be so wrong about where that site was??
This is no longer site #9. This is the past. Gone now.
This site is gone, too. I wonder what reminder of the past may linger there now?
Now there are just two sites in the hike-in campground that truly stand out as being quite a bit more distant from any other camp sites. One of those is a “walk-in only” and can’t be reserved at all (and is generally occupied any time I’ve gone there). The other? My personal favorite spot. The thing that I found amusing-confusing is that the numbering (of course) had to be updated to “make sense” on the ground for folks seeking their reserved site… and now, the carefully recording numbering of prior visits that I see in my notes and pictures makes no sense; it doesn’t match the map as it exists now. My preferred site was #23, which “no longer exists” but strictly speaking it’s right there on the map – just bearing a different number. So many lovely visits to #23… only… now it’ll be #21, and of course the one trip I had previously made to #21 would be better numbered, now, as #17. Sites #22 and #9, as they had existed, are simply gone now. There is no need for a #22 at all and #9 is attached to a different site altogether. Vexing. But… change is. These are certainly the sorts of changes that can screw with a person’s memories of the past, though. lol
Sometimes I get hung up on such details. What something is called now versus what it used to be named. Street names. Business locations. Changes in which streets are one-way. I sometimes struggle to reconcile what I recall with what I see in front of me. I don’t think that’s unique or unusual; I think we all deal with it because change is. Sorting out these photos and getting them organized by camping trip has been fun and I love the reminders of each one. The pictures take me back down trails as they once were, and each visit has its utterly unique and splendidly different moments… on the same trails. Different weather. Different light. Different flowers in bloom. New or old signs. Well-maintained or falling into disrepair. These small variations don’t reflect “poor memory for details” at all, they simply remind me that “change is”, and that this affects us all, with every experience. The map is not the world. The trail is not the hike. Each moment is an experience all its own.
Still the same favorite, but the number has changed. LOL It’ll be #21 on the new map. The map is not the world.
I’ve camped at this place in March. I found it a bit chilly (and definitely unpleasantly so at night). It was rainy. I find that I would rather wait for later weeks, generally, instead of camping in March. lol
I’ve camped here in May. May was also rainy, but the nights were pretty comfortable, and the thimbleberries along the trails were ripe. It’s a lovely time for wildflowers. The trails are sometimes muddy.
I’ve camped here in July. The summer heat often hasn’t really gotten going, and everything is lush and green, and the trails are dry and easy to walk.
I’ve camped here in August, several times. Comfortable nights, followed by cool mornings well-suited to long hikes. The afternoons are hot – good for napping after a hike. The birdsong, crickets, and peeping frogs make a delightful racket.
I’ve camped here in September a couple times, too. Chilly evenings develop from warm afternoons. Sometimes it has rained briefly, most often it has been dry. Creeks are at their lowest flow. Trails are dry, and so are the meadow grasses. A few wildflowers remain.
Funny thing… while it makes quite a bit of sense that I don’t typically camp earlier than March (don’t like being cold all the time)… looking over my photos, I am a little surprised to see that I have not camped later than mid-September, either. Why is that so odd? Well, the weather around this location is quite mild and suited to camping well into November before it begins getting properly chilly again. Not that it matters relative to most other things, I just found it peculiar, and find myself wondering if I should plan something for October this year? Catch the autumn in her glory, perhaps?
What I was getting to, though, is that each experience has been quite different for reasons other than camp site or season. That March trip? It was dreadful, and I cut it short. I was out there primarily doing a “gear check” for longer more remote trips into wilderness areas with only dispersed camping available, and no “conveniences” (like potable water and vault toilets). I utterly failed to be adequately prepared even for the chill of a pleasant March weekend. lol I forgot my coffee. (Nooooooo!) Seriously? I even forgot any sort of hot beverage, even tea or broth. Forgot my bee sting kit (omg, bees in March??). Couldn’t start a fire – just, for whatever reason, completely forgot how to make that happen on this whole other “do not go solo camping you nitwit” level. The ultra-light cot I had such high hopes for? Flimsy and would not support my weight. Fucking hell. After one overnight I was tired, stressed, and miserable. After two? I called my Traveling Partner to come get me. Embarrassing. I still get occasional teasing about that one. lol
Most of my camping trips are just excuses to hit trails I can’t easily reach on a weekend morning, and to get away for some “me time” and take pictures of flowers. They sort of blend together – until I see the pictures, and look back on each trip as its own thing. A singular experience. Each one of them is quite different, and by making a practice of savoring every pleasant moment at great length, my longer-term memory of all of them is of these wonderful experiences out among the trees – even that March trip.
How often do we taint our memories of the life we live by focusing on the shittiest moments with the whole of our attention, picking them apart, re-analyzing them, talking and writing about them at length, thinking of them often – while failing to do the same for all the pleasant ones? When I stopped doing that, and started putting more of my focus on the choice moments, joyful moments, a-ha moments, and wow moments instead, my experience of life over-all improved quite a lot. I recommend it. When I catch myself ruminating on some bullshit moment of chaos or unhappiness, I make a point to follow that with reflections on lovely moments. Legit. Real. Mine. Doing this has definitely changed my “implicit memory” of life and the world for the better. It’s a choice I make regularly. It’s been very effective as a strategy for ensuring that life feels worth living, every day. Figured I’d share that with you. 🙂 I hope you find it helpful.
…The tl;dr? Don’t get mired in your own bullshit. Reflect on your joys, your wins, what works, and what you love. Take time for that. Sip your coffee (or tea, or… you know, whatever you like) and focus on what delights you in your surroundings right now. I mean… I’m not telling you what to do, just sharing what has been working for me. 🙂 You’re walking your own path, of your own choosing. You can begin again.
Choose your path and walk it. Your results may vary.
Damn today has been fairly shitty. My partner and I are both still sick, and we have been fussing at each other as if we were adversaries on opposing sides of a long-standing conflict who are forced to interact through diplomatic circumstances. Icy moments interspersed with snarling. Tears and slammed doors. The increasingly full waste baskets accumulating used tissues are a visual reminder moment-to-moment that we really are both just sick. It’s unpleasant – it’ll pass.
I thought maybe a nice dish of coffee gelato might be refreshing. I lost interest quickly; limited appetite, even after 10 days of being ill, and I’m just sort of “meh” on food. Without meaning to, I gave up cannabis at some point in the past several days… couldn’t vape. The coughing it caused was intense and painful. I might just leave it as is see how things go. (I mean… if I don’t miss it, does it matter?)
I’m pretty “meh” on any number of subjects right now. Being sick has a tendency to refocus my attention. This afternoon, my attention landed on my rather messy collection of music and video playlists, and more than any meal or flavor this really engaged me; disorder in my environment, over time, adds up to disorder in my thinking. Could just be me, but it’s a thing I know to watch out for. It was my default “Watch Later” list on YouTube that got my attention. It was woefully out-of-date, clogged with shit I’d already watched, or had lost interest in. I cleaned that up, then noticed that a particular music playlist had several tracks that had subsequently been deleted from YouTube… so… I cleaned those up, too. I noticed that my “everything” playlist (literally just all the videos I’ve liked/enjoyed/been fascinated by in one place – b-sides and one-hitters, cool visual art, just… everything) didn’t actually have all of my everything in it, any more… there were new things added to other playlists that never got saved over. I cleaned that up, too. My “favorites” playlist seemed a bit stale… so many tracks that aren’t really “favorites” at this point that should live on over on the “everything” list instead. I cleaned that up, too. As I worked from list to list, tidying up, I experienced that same surge of satisfaction and contentment that I get when I clean the bathroom, kitchen, or tidy some particular space such that everywhere I look is just… right. The details matter, when it comes to our sanity, right? 🙂
I’m not saying that any of this is a cure for stress or anxiety, or in any way a substitute for proper therapy, medical care, or healthy practices generally. It isn’t. It’s more a nice addition, and something to do on a sick day when I’m feeling fussy. Well, I was feeling fussy. Now I’m mostly just chilling. A better feel for a summer Saturday. The music plays on. Videos on one monitor, and this “blank page” on the other. Part of what feels so good about self-care is simply the obvious; self-care feels good. We all want to be cared for. Sometimes I forget how easily that can start with how I care for myself. 🙂
I’m also thinking ahead to my camping trip. I don’t always sleep well when I’m camping. Those wee hours of darkness and solitude are sometimes best passed with some sort of entertainment available – a good book, something to study, some music. Having all my playlists sorted and “in good working order” could be handy. One of my camping trips, I slept during the afternoons almost exclusively. I was wakeful and restless during the night, eager to hit the trail in the mornings, so it was afternoons when I took my ease and got rested. Those were long nights. LOL That location had no connectivity.
Self-care matters. What does it take to feel cared for? How much of that can I do for myself? That kind of emotional self-sufficiency doesn’t just lighten the load on our partners and friends, it also provides a level of all-over independence that reduces how easily we succumb to heartache, loneliness, or manipulation. I feel a surge of anger that I got so sick at all – I’ve got shit to do!! Places to go! Fitness to pursue! A garden to take care of! Meals I’d like to cook! I glance at the clock, keeping an eye out for timing on the next round of cold remedies to take. This will pass.
…I can tell I am at least starting to feel better; I keep wanting to do more, or to cook, or tackle a project. Attempting to respond to the inclination with real action generally still results in frustration, breaking out in a sweat, getting dizzy or woozy, and just giving myself up to the visceral reminder that yeah, I’m still sick. LOL It’s a very human experience.
Evening Light 