So my last post I said that I would like to camp again. This weekend I DID. Not only that, I backpacked. It was so fantastic.
We climbed 1,000 feet in the first hour, which was the most significant portion of the hike. The steepness made us feel silly about our pace up when we went so quickly back down.
After getting to the site we set up camp. Alexia and I were cast off by ourselves because there wasn't enough room at the girls camp, and boys had to keep a safe distance. We concluded that this was more for their sake when night came and we were telling bedtime stories, then for the sake of modesty. Our instructor was kind and set up camp within shouting distance.
I kept running off into the woods, overjoyed with the presence of trees, streams, and an abundance of pine-cones. I LOVE pine-cones. They hang in front of my fireplace, and on the wall at the head of my bed.
Plastic makes us sad. LEAVE NO TRACE.
John (our instructor) told us some scary stories at night. I boastfully disregarded them with my intelligence ("What did the 'ghost' LOOK like? . . A Light? Well, how did he give matches to a LIGHT?").
The next morning Alexia and I woke up to John throwing sticks and rocks at our tent and snickering, at which time we got up, packed up camp, ate some oatmeal and climbed back down.
"We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us. Our flesh-and-bone tabernacle seems transparent as glass to the beauty about us" - John Muir, "My First Summer in the Sierra"
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