Camping Solo

Never has there been a more manly activity than camping in the woods alone. There's something rather glamorous about braving the elements with only the items you can fit into a backpack. No cell phones, no watches, no computers, no TV's, and no one to keep you company... in simplest terms, it's man vs. nature, man vs. himself, man vs. can of beenie weenies that won't open. Yes, spending a day and night in the great outdoors was just what I needed or so I thought until the sun began to set. The idea that nightfall wouldn't be accompanied by the cosy orange glow of a thousand sodium vapor lamps hadn't really set in until around dusk. No sir, when the sun went down that was it. We are talking dark here folks, the kind of dark that makes children hide under their covers, the kind of dark that made man invent artificial light, the kind of dark that bears, wolves, bobcats, and rabid deer love using to stalk unsuspecting city folks foolish enough to go camping alone. For a few short moments I was sure I was wild creature fodder. But as with all great men, when the going gets tough, the tough build bonfires big enough to signal naval craft. So without hesitation I sought out all forms of matter that would burn, generally some part of a deceased tree, and with a single match I might add (the manliest act of my camping expedition), I started one of best fires I've ever made. The creeping shadows retreated, warm, dry air replaced the cold and damp, and the fears that had only a few minutes ago seemed set on ruining a perfectly good evening in the mountains disappeared. Once again, man had conquered nature. I had no idea my biggest challenge was yet to come.

The rest of my evening passed in blissful relaxation. A full moon, a small flask of brandy, and a book of poetry by Robert Frost soon joined the fire as my evening guests. I have no idea how much time passed as I sat before the fire reflecting on life or nothing at all. Time was told by the passing of the moon alone. As it rose to its apex and the fire burned low, I retired to my warm sleeping bag and lay for a while gazing at the stars above wondering how many had spent the night alone in this hollow, gazing at the same stars. I drifted off to sleep and only woke long enough to take a brisk, barefooted trip to the little boy's... errr I mean manly men's room.

I awoke the next morning to chilly air and a shadowed forest. The sun still had not risen above the ridge to the east. I grudgingly climbed out of my sleeping bag and went about the business of putting together some semblance of breakfast. First came the easy food, the powdered mini-donuts I had bought at a little country store the day before, a banana... but it somehow seemed inadequate. I dug around my backpack and pulled out the family-sized can of beans and franks that I hadn't eaten the night before. Yeah, "man fuel" as the not-so manly Domino's Pizza guy would say. I figured after the hiking I did the previous day I could really use the calories. Needless to say I didn't realize I would expend as many calories opening the can as there were actually in it. For anyone who's ever opened a can with a basic can opener you already know what I mean. Hook the can lip underneath, press down, poke hole in top, turn can 1 millimeter, repeat... It usually takes 5-10 minutes to get through one ordinary sized can (yeah I'm no Eagle Scout) but of course I had to have the jumbo-sized one. So for two agonizing hours (well more like 15 minutes but it felt like two hours), I cut into that accursed can, the smell of beenie weenies drifting up, teasing me. When I finally finished the task I was actually too tired to eat it and decided to go back to sleep (just kidding). I finally got to eat my hearty meal of cold beans and hotdogs but I learned a valuable lesson. I will without a doubt be bringing my electric can opener next time. What's that you say? Pop-tops? Sorry, never heard of 'em.

So the time finally came to say goodbye to my campsite and the quaint little stream and waterfall nearby. I packed my things and headed back towards civilization. When I got out of the mountains I turned my cell-phone back on and checked my messages. My cousin Kerry whom I had taken out to lunch the day before, had had a gall bladder attack and was in the hospital (probably because of the Italian food I had bought her) and an ex-girlfriend had called to ask me to take care of her dogs while she was away. Joy! The only good news came from my friend in California who had called to tell me about a radio station that was playing one song over and over and to ask me if I had added a link to my blog. Sorry Benjamin, I haven't yet but I'll get around to it soon...

Yes indeed folks, there's just something about camping solo in the woods.