(and not enough of some others)

I love being in the woods. Or the forest.  (Whichever term you want to use.  I grew up calling it the Woods.  ‘Forest’ always has a fancy nuance to me.)

I remember long happy hours playing alone in the mostly pine woods that covered about 1/3-1/2 of the 10 acres my parents owned up until I was 12.  The school bus route also traveled along several dirt and gravel roads through woods, sometimes with the trees so close we’d have to lean away from the open windows to keep from getting slapped by the boughs.

One time on the bus some kid asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I was 9 or 10 years old.  I was staring out the window at the trees and the carpet of golden brown pine needles.  “A hermit,” I said.

I don’t remember how I knew about hermits.  But I’ve always had far more sympathy for the old woman living in the house made of sweets than I did for Hansel and Gretel.

My ideal house would be a large log cabin with a front deck that let out onto a sandy beach and salty bay or gulf water, and a back porch that let out onto a large grassy back yard with pine forest behind that going for… I don’t know… miles in all directions.  My nearest neighbor would be no closer than 5 miles.

Of course, the cabin would have Electricity, Hot and Cold Running Water and Indoor Toilets, Cable TV, Internet, and AC/Heat.  After all, we’re talking ‘ideal‘ here.  Or idyllic.  Take your pick.

Anyway, this is a long way around to talking about my recent Solo Camping Adventures. 

While I love being the woods, walking in the woods (also known as taking a hike), and sitting in the woods to contemplate the BIG questions I’m so fond of, I’ve discovered that I don’t much like camping alone in the woods.  I didn’t know that since I hadn’t done it ever until the last couple weeks.  But it’s not really even the camping itself I don’t like.  I don’t much mind that, really, as long as my campsite feels like a hermit’s hovel, isolated and private. 

What I don’t like are campgrounds.  They’re like hotels without walls.  Why on earth would I want to be cheek-to-jowl, elbow-to-elbow, with perfect strangers, close enough to hear their radios and conversations and cell phones, separated by only about 10 yards distance and the thinnest sheet of nylon mesh.  Why do I go to the trouble of having wooden walls and locks on my house (security and privacy) only to go ‘relax’ where there is neither security or privacy?

So… on the scale of 1-10, with 10 being the most fun and 1 being the least…

camping alone at a campground with neighbors?    -5
camping alone without neighbors      +5
camping with my husband      +7
hiking     +9
hiking with binoculars and camera   +9.5

(what?  I had to save ‘+10′ for activities of a more naughty nature, didn’t I?)

That’s why I did all this practice solo camping, as well as hiking with my loaded pack:  to learn what worked and what didn’t.  So, I’ve learned.

Now how do I apply what I’ve learned to my proposed 100 miles AT adventure for next month?

I’m not 100% sure yet, but I’m going to making some adjustments in time and distance… that much I know.  I think for my temperment and fitness level, 100 miles in 2 weeks is too big a bite for me to chew at this time. 

Any advice? 

I’ll keep you posted as to my decisions.

Yesterday I did my first 5 mile hike with a pack of gear on my back.  The pack was 20 lbs and included all the equipment I will take for the real backpacking adventure.  It didn’t include food or extra clothes and toiletries.

Anyway, I did the whole 5 (fairly flat) miles with the pack on, and my hiking boots on (another 3 lbs), and was happily tired but fine at the end of it.  I was very pleased with myself.

We had Mexican food for lunch, then we came home and I took a bubble bath, then we went to the mall (more walking – it’s a huge frakkin’ mall), then we saw Ironman (don’t bother – the flying is cool, but the rest is duller than dishwater).

I’m less sore than I expected to be today, which is also a good sign.  My mid-back muscles are a smidge tired and my legs are still a smidge tired, but overall I feel fine.  All good.

Later, I’ll do a walk around the neighborhood, with the dogpack (Lucky and Baby) but not the backpack – it’ll be an easy exercise day.

In a couple days, I’ll do another backpacking trial run, spending 48 hours on my own at a local national park, and if that goes well, next weekend I’m planning to go back down to Kiptopeke State Park and spending a few days on my own down there, hiking and practicing my hermit skills for my 100 mile AT experience.

I’ve sat here staring at the screen for at least 20 minutes now trying to decide what to write about.  I’ve got lots of things on my mind. 

• The floods in the mid-US and my experiences from 1993 living in Omaha, and the crazy weather we’ve had this year everywhere. 
• More of what I learned over the last couple days from my solo camping adventure. 
• Plans for future camping adventures. 
• Insights about the relationship between pioneers in covered wagons and modern camping.  
• All the chores and the long list of neglected tasks around the house that I need to tend to today. 
• The beginning of summer. 
• The high price of gas and how people have been complaining about oil and energy issues since the 70s when I was in junior high and still no real significant changes or progress has been made.
• The promised blog about the value of studying literature.
• All the various and sundry book ideas I have swarming around in my head.
• The fact that I just made my first bullet list ever on Xanga.

Focus, Mary, Focus.

Ahhh.  That’s better.

Although I had originally planned a 2 night solo camping adventure, I’m home after only 1 night.  I had a few minor technical difficulties, one equipment malfunction, and in my impatience I’d left behind a few minor supplies I could have used.  No one big thing went wrong that brought the adventure to an end.  And I learned a lot that will help me when I do a section of the AT next month, which was the point of this adventure.

One thing I learned was not to be impatient to go because you’ll forget things.

Another thing: hiking and being outside multiplies the hunger level.  And I didn’t even do a lot of hiking compared to how much I’ll be doing on the AT.

I did wear my fully loaded Kelty pack during part of the hike, though, and I was happily surprised at just how comfortable and easy it was to manage compared to my experiences with ordinary book backpacks with even 1/3 the weight.  I know carrying 30-40 lbs of gear will take a toll – seemingly in hunger pangs – but at least it won’t be misery to wear.

Another thing: It’s a real pain – literally and figuratively – to sleep, sit, eat, dress and undress, and everything else, either in the confines of a small tent or on the ground.  I know millions of people around the world live with little or no furniture, but I never remember how much more comfortable it makes our lives or how much we take it for granted until I go camping and don’t have a place to sit, or a way to lean back, or a table to set things on.  (The campsite actually did have a picnic table, and I ended up using it, but it was a constant reminder of how on the AT I wouldn’t have a table.)

And as an adjunct to that… I’m a 45 year old woman with some extra built-in weight.  The ground is a lot harder than it was 30-40 years ago and getting up from being down on the ground isn’t as easy as it looks anymore.  Those of you in your 20s… you don’t know.  Even being relatively strong and healthy as I am, there are aches and pains and stiffness – none of which I ever could have imagined when I was in my 20s.  So getting up and down off the ground takes a little more time and effort and pain tolerance than it used to.  I can do it, but… you know… just give me a moment. 

And now the last thing I’ll tell you about: I had a night of fitful sleep.  Partly due to the strange environs, which I expect for the first night or two away from home.  Partly from sleeping on the ground, because even with my Therm-a-rest mattress, my camping bed was significantly flatter and firmer than my Sleep Number bed here at home.  And my back and my hips didn’t much like it.  But even that I expected.

The unexpected reason I had a sleepless night was because there was this VERY loud, VERY persistant whip-o-will that called and sang all freakin’ night long!  omg!  Shut the frak up, you stupid bird!

In most species, it’s the male bird who does the calling and singing, and they do so to proclaim territory and to tell all the female birds, “Here I am, ladies…come and get it.”

I swear I’ve never wanted a bird to get laid more in my life than I was routing for that damn whip-o-will last night.

Today, after an appointment this morning, I begin my first ever solo camping adventure.  I’ll get a campsite at a nearby national park and spend 2 nights testing my new equipment and my long-held hermit aspirations.

I’ll have my car, my cell phone, and plenty of options for retreat if something goes wrong.  So don’t worry.  This is just a test.  This is only a test.  Had this been a real camping adventure…..

No, really, it’s a solo camping adventure.  A trial run for doing 100 miles of the Appalachian Trail next month.

Also, today is Terri’s birthday.  Click over and tell her Happy 45th.

I swear I need an entomologist on retainer.  I have a field guide to butterflies and another one for insects, yet it seems after every outing I have photos of bugs I can’t identify.

Anyone have a clue about this one?  He was pretty small – maybe a half inch or so long (not including legs or antenna).

Yesterday, I spent all morning walking around Leesylvania State Park, taking pictures and enjoying the views of the Potomac River, the forest, the Herons and the Butterflies.  Got a lot of gorgeous shots of Herons and Zebra Swallowtails.  Took over 500 photos which took an hour to upload from my compact flash card to my hard drive.

Then I added keyword metadata to all the photos and tagged the best ones.  Here are a few for your enjoyment.

Familiar Bluet Damselfly

Zebra Swallowtail

There’s a couple things about camping that are givens:

1- bugs.
2- dampness.

Although it’s easy to forget, since most of us in the US live and work in climate controlled buildings, nature is both buggy and damp.  Much of home ownership, too, is about keeping the buggy dampness (as well as other natural flora and fauna) outside where it belongs and not inside where we are living in relative comfort.

It’s also easy to forget that until the last 50-100 years, humans didn’t have that comfort.  For hundreds of thousands of years, humans lived 24/7 in the big buggy damp outdoors, even when they were indoors.  No one had air conditioning units to filter out the humidity, and most people from all stratas of civilization were buggy – lice, fleas, and worms were just three of the most common companions.

So, why give up modern creature comforts to go hike or live in the buggy, damp woods?

That’s a good question.  I don’t know if I can explain why I like being in the woods so much.  It’s quiet, peaceful, and it’s one of the few places I feel completely at ease.  Completely myself.  And free.

You may remember that I got bit by the Appalachian Trail bug last year (which is a whole different kind of bug than that usual type mentioned above ).  The whole trail is over 2000 miles long and runs from Georgia to Maine.  I’m not going to be doing the whole thing this year.  But I have committed myself – mostly by spending a hefty sum on ultralight gear – to walk an impressive chunk of it.

100 miles, to be exact, the length of the AT through Shenandoah National Park here in Virginia.  I’ve given myself 12 days to walk that 100 miles…. from July 13 to July 25.

If it doesn’t kill me, it will make me stronger.    Also if it doesn’t kill me, maybe I’ll give myself 6 months to do the whole 2000+ miles next year. 

Severe weather, the likes of which the news and weather people say has never happened here before, rolled through Northern Virginia yesterday dropped heavy rains, tearing apart trees and a few houses and power lines.  Lots of schools are closed in the DC metro area because of power outages which has also made a normally crappy commute a nightmare with traffic signals out and many roads closed for the downed trees. 

Luckily, our power here at the house is on, despite a few flickers yesterday, so I can tell you all this.

The super-thunderstorms that rushed through the region at 60 mph spawned something like 70 rotational events, but only 4 tornadoes actually touched down, I think.

Me and the dogs hid out downstairs for the 45 minutes that the worst of it passed over out neighborhood.  We’re all fine and have no known damage.

It’s supposed to be hot and humid over the weekend, with a chance of isolated thunderstorms in the afternoons.  I hope the campsite won’t be too muddy and the rain holds off.