Archives for posts with tag: solo camping

For a long time I daydreamt of having a home of my own. I couldn’t call it planning, at all, because… I wasn’t. I was just daydreaming. The difference, I think, being that a daydream can be expansive, fanciful, and very nearly wholly unconstrained by any sense of reality or real-world limitations from a practical perspective, and planning… well, it isn’t that. A plan has to account for reality, legitimate limitations in resources, time, skills, and opportunity. A plan can be (must be) acted upon to produce the desired result. Acting upon a daydream may result in that dream becoming a plan, and potentially, at some point, that plan becoming something real – but a daydream, as a daydream, is just the mental equivalent of cotton candy. Sweet, but without substance.

Now I’ve got my own home. I got there by way of good fortune, good timing, the help and support of my Traveling Partner, and a plan. I’ll note that if I’d planned sooner, more skillfully, and in a more forward-looking fashion, as a much younger woman, the reliance on good fortune and good timing may have been reduced, and perhaps I’d have had my own home sooner…? That’s something I think about now and then, although I’m quite content with the home I have. Things worked out pretty well.

…I do enjoy daydreaming, though…

I daydream about camping (and hiking) all the time. Any moment of stress is likely to find me turning my thoughts to a distant trail, a remote campsite, the long drive to get to the quiet place, until my mind is eased and the stressful moment has passed. Daydreaming has a function. I daydream when I’m stuck on a problem. I daydream when I’m bored. I daydream to calm my mind, and to find inspiration. I daydream as I drift off to sleep, until my daydreams become the surreal circus of nighttime dreams.

…I’m also super into planning…

I’ve been daydreaming of Spring camping for weeks, since well-before the temperatures were warm enough for my idea of comfortable camping. I whiled away delightful minutes thinking about one camp ground or another, various trails I’d like to walk, doing some wildflower photography, quietly meditating among the trees, or on the beach, or in the high desert… or… somewhere. As April has progressed, warmer temperatures have returned (at least in our area), and I shifted gears from daydreaming to planning… and now I have a plan. I’ve got a location picked out. I’ve got a camp site selected (and reserved). I’ve got my Oregon State Park Special Access Pass renewed. I’ve identified some trails I’d like to hike. I’ve also identified some things that need doing before I go (like get an oil change, and get my brakes done). I’ve laid out a list of equipment I definitely want to take, that I’ll need to get out of winter storage and look over for damage. I’ve got a plan. πŸ˜€ Looks like I’m going camping in May! I’m excited about that, and feeling pretty prepared, even though all I’ve done is make a plan. There’s joy in the planning itself, most especially because it allows me to more realistically enjoy the anticipation, while also maximizing the successful outcome of the experience itself; I’m more prepared through planning.

…It helps not be too attached to the outcome…

Plans are only plans. The map is not the world. Plans may lead to great things, but along the way there will be missteps, inconveniences, and reality having its way with the outcome. Being too attached to how things really happen can result in a lot of unnecessary stress, and in practical terms a loss of enjoyment. No reason to do that. I make a point to also plan for things to go wrong. For the plan to break down. For alternate options to be something that will be needed. I’m planning hikes – but what if it rains? Would I be hiking the sandy muddy trails then? Maybe not. So I’ll also bring a book. lol It’s part of the fun of planning, for me; anticipating the things most likely to go “wrong”, and to be just as ready for those things as for the things I’m legit planning for.

So… I’ve got my camping trip planned. Now there’s some waiting time, then I’ll begin to execute the plan – beginning with staging my gear and making a point to replace things like band-aids and Benadryl, and making a point to put a fresh bee sting kit in my pack. Shopping for food items. Packing clothes and gear. I’ll be so excited by the time I load the car… and according to my plan, that’ll be about 24 hours before I hit the road, heading for a campsite I’ve already reserved – because I planned. πŸ˜€

A future destination. I’ve got a plan.

It’s shortly after 05:00 a.m. I am tired. Groggy. Already in the office. I have a headache. At this point, I’d be awake most any work day. On this day, I woke with a panic attack, well before dawn, and even before my scheduled time to wake up. I zone in and out. It’s hard to focus. I did not get enough sleep. I was an emotional mess when I dressed and left the house quite abruptly; I don’t make my best decisions from deep within a panic attack. The point of my departure was exclusively to do with giving my Traveling Partner an opportunity to get much-needed sleep, himself. I sure wasn’t going to be going back to sleep. Now I’m stuck in that not-quite-awake/not-quite-sleeping place. Eyelids are heavy. I feel stupid and a bit dizzy.

…It’s these harder days that I practice for on all those easier days…

I left the house so early (before 04:00 a.m.) that there were no coffee shops open anywhere, on the entire drive into the city. The gas station near home was open, so I stopped in – my plan was to buy bottled or canned coffee. Coffee for the drive. I forgot all about doing that, and just got gas and got on the road to the office. lol The drive in was uneventful, aside from just… no other traffic at all, really. The streets were empty at that hour. It was spooky and pretty surreal. When I got into the city, the parking garage wasn’t even open yet. I parked on the street. I set a reminder on my phone to pay the meter; it is too early to do even that.

…I’m so tired…

Every time my consciousness lands on my waking-up experience of this morning, I start crying all over again. Weeping, to be more accurate. Tears well up and start falling. It definitely messed with my head to start my day from a place of panic, fear, and anxiety. I have a headache right on the edge of becoming a migraine. From the perspective of this fatigue and the associated lack of emotional resilience, tomorrow’s planned drive seems a tad daunting, at least for the moment. I wouldn’t want to be starting that journey from this point. “It’ll be easier once the sun rises,” I tell myself before rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and cleaning my smudgy glasses. “The world” absolutely will not actually care about “my bullshit” or chaos and damage, not even a little bit, and there is a whole new work day between me and setting forth on my weekend of driving, camping, and self-reflection. “One foot after the other,” I remind myself, “and don’t forget to breathe.”

…I get a can of cold-brew from the office kitchen…

Starting the day triggered is shitty. Just saying. I’m acknowledging that explicitly for myself because failing to do so would tend to set up the day as one on which I “don’t feel heard”, or cared for, or supported – because I need those things (feeling heard, cared for, and supported) from me every bit as much (more?) as I need them from anyone else. I take a minute to accept that the day started very poorly, and that I feel tired, and at a disadvantage. I definitely do not feel properly “engaged” or prepared for a routine day of work. My eyes glance at the time… I’ve got basically an hour to “sort myself out” and face the work day. Fuuuuuck. At least it is a “no meetings” day… that’s something. I know I can take some time to get my head right before other people have to deal with me.

…I’m so tired…

I keep sipping this coffee. It’s canned cold brew. It’s… fine? Not good. Adequate. It meets the need. I catch myself picking at my torn up cuticles (again), and sigh out loud as I let my hands drop back to the keyboard to type these words. It’s going to be that day, I guess. Tears start falling again. I let them. Now is not the time to beat myself up over a handful of fucking tears. It’s been a difficult morning. I mean, well, those first moments. The rest since then has been utterly uneventful aside from being stupidly fucking early. It takes me a while for the chemistry of some emotions to clear up… like being on a bad trip, I know it will pass. It’ll end. Things will be okay… later. For now… I sit here with this fairly crappy iced coffee, watching the sun rise beyond the windows.

…Good grief canned coffee is pretty dreadful…

The car is almost entirely packed for my roadtrip. I sip my coffee and contemplate getting on the road today, after work (although honestly I’m probably too tired for that, and may be taking a bit more than usual risk just driving home in commuter traffic later today). My timing is all based on an early departure tomorrow. I chuckle grimly; the early wake-up today will give me one advantage tomorrow morning; I’ll be “more used to” getting up earlier than I tend to for work. I’ll set my silent alarm for 04:00 and try to catch the sunrise in my rear view mirror, from the highway to the coast. I’ll just get up and leave whenever I wake. Why not? No reason I need to put any pressure on myself, and I’ll have at least 11 hours to make the 5-hour drive to my camp site for my first night. πŸ™‚ There are lots of beautiful places to stop to see sights and get pictures, and there is no need to rush. This adventure is about the time spent in my own good company.

…I feel a genuine smile form, and although it doesn’t linger it stills feels like progress…

I am so very much looking forward to a couple days without having to “deal with people” much (hardly at all)(including my Traveling Partner). Alone with my thoughts. Alone in my own head. Alone to sleep, to eat, to breathe, “interrupted” only by a few also greatly needed hours in the company of a dear old friend. I’ve been feeling hemmed in on all sides by what everyone else seems to need from me. I suspect that’s an illusion, and I don’t “trust myself” about that feeling. I do need a proper break from “things”, and a few hours in the company of an old friend. More than that, I need a few days to handle my self-care on my own, and see to the needs of the woman in the mirror. Having come face-to-face with the unexpected existence of internalized self-directed misogyny still lingering in the way that I treat myself, it’s time to do something to heal that wound. I don’t know if a 4-day roadtrip is sufficient to do that work (it’s a lot), but it is at least a beginning. I am a big fan of beginnings. πŸ™‚

…Isn’t each moment a small new beginning all its own…?

A yawn splits my face. I finish this coffee – probably the first of several, this morning. There’s definitely at least going to be one more following this one. lol My back aches. My head aches. The tears have dried up. That’s something. The steady whir of the A/C in the background softly suggests napping. I’m so tired.
“Soon enough,” I tell myself, “the work day will end, and it’ll be time to sleep again.” Probably make an early night of it. What else can I do? I’ve got to get some sleep before I drive a long distance or I’ll be at risk of falling asleep at the wheel. That’d be a poor choice. Safety first.

I look over my To-Do List… today seems the sort of day I’m likely to forget things. I check the list. There are still a couple items to toss in the car… my camera bag, the emergency satellite communicator, coffee beans, and my power brick for charging things. I’m glad I’ve got a list. I sit awhile wondering if I’ve overlooked anything. Coffee filters. I add them to the list. I print off the registration and window tag for each of my planned campsites; having them will be handy.

…I remember to take my morning medications (it was too early when I woke)…

I let my mind wander to the roadtrip ahead. I’m looking forward to the journey, and also looking forward to the camping. I’ve got some “new gear” to enjoy, like the fire pit we got for camping with the pickup – it’s well-suited to solo adventures, too, compact and light-weight, easy to store, easy to use… and because it is both a cook stove and also a heater, by design, I am planning on cooking real food while I camp instead of relying on dehydrated and freeze-dried food (which has been my usual practice for years). I’m excited about that. The little coffee grinder & pour-over setup that I’ve got now is also an exciting “upgrade” in gear; still compact, it will mean having a really excellent cup of very fresh coffee while I’m camping, instead of my usual “downgrade” to instant. πŸ˜€ Both items were recommended by my Traveling Partner, and it feels good to enjoy them with him in mind. I’m grateful for those suggestions, they’ll definitely be an improvement on my usual ways. πŸ˜€

I laugh outloud when I look over this morning’s post; I’ve obviously gone entirely too far with this. Definitely one of those 1500+ words posts. LOL …And my coffee is gone. Finished. Clearly, it’s time to set this aside and begin again. πŸ™‚

It seems ages since the season last turned… Fall to Winter it was. An eternity it go, it seems now. I smile and sip my coffee, cold brew out of a can. My sleep was restless after foolishly sipping on a 3rd rather overly caffeinated coffee late into the afternoon yesterday. Mindlessness comes at a cost, every time. I woke with effort, groggily pulling myself from dreams that seemed more engaging than life.

For now, the day gets off to an early rather ordinary beginning for a Tuesday on a work day. Later I’ll come home, and there will be sufficient daylight for a bit of gardening, and maybe grilling something pleasant for dinner. It’s a short week, so either tonight or tomorrow will be mostly spent on housework, and getting shit together for the long weekend in the country. I smile, thinking ahead to the weekend.

A late autumn perspective. What will Spring reveal?

I open another can of coffee with a smile. Why does icy cold canned cold brew coffee taste like summertime?

Spring, already? I have plans. My intention is to camp a lot more this year. Hike a lot more. Disconnect a lot more. Having a place to go in the countryside, and the opportunity to enjoy the company of my Traveling Partner more along the way, just makes all of that seem so easy. πŸ™‚

I’d been in the practice of hiking literally every weekend for quite a long while, then, moving into my own place sort of threw off my cadence a bit; there were other things to do, and all of them fell to me, daily. Adulting is busy work. No, I mean, seriously – it’s busywork. lol I ended up spending more time on other sorts of self-care entirely. Moving away from the park, last July, definitely changed the frequency of my hiking. First, the move itself, then… oh, right, my Traveling Partner moved down south, and I gained a car – and a commute that requires one. Then being sick, and the holidays, and more being sick, and then… What the hell? Why was that enough to stop me from hiking every weekend? Oh. Right. I spend of lot of those weekends driving down and back. LOL

Still – lots of great hikes down that way, and all of them are hikes I think I want to do. Time to research, plan, look over maps, and make it part of my experience when I’m down there. Spring is here. πŸ™‚

Where will the journey take me?

Time to begin again.

Sipping my coffee on a quiet comfortable morning, and I am musing at lessons learned on other days, in other moments. I am thinking about the crackling fire in the fireplace that kept me smiling much of the weekend. I am thinking about a camping trip last March in which I experienced a real moment of dread and anxiety – because I wasn’t easily able to make a fire. I am thinking about the distance I have traveled between those events, and what it has taken to grow from one to the other.

I wasn't as prepared as I felt.

I wasn’t as prepared as I felt.

In March, I had planned a camping trip of 4 days to gear-test new gear, and find out whether I was up to colder weather camping (newsflash: it’s not my preference to camp if low temperatures are below 45 – it’s an important planning detail). I headed for the trees thinking I had everything I needed. Truthfully, the lack of coffee wasΒ what kicked my ass emotionally (I’d also overlooked tea), and looking back it was a huge opportunity to overcome that limitation, but the headache spoke louder than reason. I had also not packed my bee sting kit, thinking that the weather was not yet ‘bee weather’. Being wrong about that was a safety issue, and that was the deciding factor to ‘call it’ only two days in and return home. My traveling partner retrieved me from the forest, and although he genially teased me just a bit about my lack of readiness, we both knew that was why I went out there for that particular trip; I’m planning much longer ones, solo, more remote – and on those occasions, it’s pretty urgent that obvious mistakes not be the mistakes I am making when I am too far from home to call for a ride. But this is simply some context on the experience; the lack of coffee may not have kicked my ass if I had been easily able to make fire from on-hand resources, no cheats.

Light without heat won't cook dinner.

Light without heat won’t boil water.

I camp fairly light, and I make sure I have flint and emergency fire-starting gear, but generally rely on Esbits for quick fuel to boil water. Doing so let’s me travel fairly light, and doesn’t place a requirement on me to actually build a fire and burn wood traveling through forests, or in places where a fire is a bad idea. It had been so long since I actually made a wood fire I had entirely lost those skills – and was wandering around in the world unaware of that (far more important than the loss of skillΒ was the fact that I was unaware of the short-coming). It was an embarrassing discovery. I had brought along an alcohol stove, another common hiker/camper favorite, but one I wasn’t so familiar with using and didn’t have a lifetime (any time) of personal experience; my use of fuel was inefficient, even wasteful, and I didn’t bring enough fuel to account for that. I used up my fuel figuring things out (and setting my cook pot handle on fire – don’t ask). To prevent myself from ‘falling back on favorites’ on this particular trip I hadn’t packed as many Esbits – Β and I “knew” I had enough alcohol. (I was wrong.) These sorts of things add up to potentially life-threatening fails under extreme circumstances, and it was wrecking my nerves even after I returned home. (I thought I could count on myself for fire for crying out loud!) I had some work to do. There would be verbs involved.

No skill required - yet.

No skill required – yet.

Over the winter holidays, I enjoyed a number of fires in the fireplace, and have continued to do so. Each new fire in the fireplace became an adventure, a learning experience, and part of a progression – the first one was just a Duraflame log, lit and enjoyed for a couple of hours (and an opportunity figure out the flue with confidence). Each successive fire has been more reliant on skill, until this past weekend I started a lovely warm fire without cheating it at all – lit with a lighter meant for lighting fires, but aside from that nothing made it effortless, and success was not assured. I learn from each stumble, each mistake, each new transition toward being more fully reliant on the basics (wood, oxygen, and spark or flame to begin it). This weekend I explored a variety of tweaks on placement of wood on the grate, size of kindling, timing of putting heavier wood on the fire, and had quite a lot of fun with the experience, and ending each day with a bed of coals banked and ready to begin again.

The cozy warmth of a fire built with purpose and skill.

The cozy warmth of a fire built with purpose and skill.

In between my March camping, and my lovely warm fire this past weekend there has been quite a lot of study, and some practice (with more practice yet to come – because a fire in the fireplace is not 100% analogous to making a fire in the cold, or the rain, or the wind, and there is much more to learn about fire, about readiness, and about self-sufficiency and interdependence). I’ll probably continue to hike and camp relying on what works best (and most reliably) for me, and what feels most comfortable, but I’ll be heading to the trees far more prepared to take care of me when circumstances don’t allow for what feels most comfortable, and more aware of what I may really need to enjoy the experience.

Taking care of me has a lot of verbs... and some nice perks. :-)

Taking care of me has a lot of verbs… and some nice perks. πŸ™‚

Today is a good day to be a student of life and love, open to new understanding. Today is a good day to put aside assumptions, and ask clarifying questions. Today is a good day to look suffering in the face with a mind open to understanding what my needs really are. It’s a journey worth taking. πŸ™‚

If you were to find that you must quickly, and immediately, depart for ‘points unknown’, and do so in as prepared a fashion as you could with minimal time spent ‘getting your things together’…what would you take with you?

Too much? Not enough? What matters most?

Too much? Not enough? What matters most?

Think about it for a moment. You can use any resources you may have – but whatever you take along on the journey needs to be light enough to manage alone, and serve you well for having rated high enough to be considered to take along, at all. You don’t know the destination – but I’ll at least observe that there will be challenges, and potential risk to your health, perhaps even your sanity. So. What do you take with you to handle most of your basic needs?

Are there also things you know with utter certainty you must leave behind?

If this scenario develops unexpectedly, in the wee hours perhaps, or late in the evening when you are already quite tired, or when you are in poor health, or hurting – does your packing list change? What about the time it takes to figure out the details?

What is on your list of essentials on life’s journey?

Today is a good day to consider questions. Today is a good day to travel light, and to be prepared for change. Today is a good day to reconsider my ‘packing list’ and lighten the baggage I carry day-to-day.