Binge Camping

In the past month and a half I’ve been camping twice, which is two more times than I have been since Table Rock way back in 2004.

In October, I and a few other friends flew out to Seattle for an overdue visit to Andy. Then the five of us drove out to Hurricane Ridge in the Olympics and camped in the mountains. It was a beautiful place to camp, and we were even lucky enough to miss any rain during the trip. The next day we intended to drive to the mountain peak, but the road was closed for weather or some reason. So instead, we went hiking, and I found out just how much a decent uphill grade and uneven terrain can cut down on one’s walking speed—especially when that one is not in particularly good shape to begin.

So big kudos to Andy (and Adam, who also lives out there and apparently even scouted the site) for what was definitely one of the best camping trips I’ve ever taken.

Then, Nat and Adam and I went camping the weekend before last. It was at least partially prompted by my account of my previous trip, and when those two get a wild hair they don’t half-ass it. It wasn’t nearly as ambitious of a destination of course: we went hiking at Platte River State Park and stayed at Louisville State Park, just 30 minutes away. But we had some unseasonably warm weather, and good times were had by all. Adam and I were introduced to a few Japanese camping traditions: some of them, like yakiimo, we liked, and others, like dancing around the campfire, we declined to participate in.

Even with Roxy along to keep us on our toes, we noticed that the whole affair was unfortunately a little stagnant with just three people. As Nat put it, “You should get a girlfriend.” Talk about your understatements.

The camping trend is currently on hold until warmer weather, or at least post-holidays, but I am open to suggestions on my next destination. I’ve heard that Indian Cave is cool.