Howdy,
About camping, What if?—or, If only …
This is the week’s topic. Camping’s got a week in it, right?
And I want to take a run at it for that long because camping is fascinating.
Because, camping, if you think about it … Camping is hope, since the outdoor activity seems to hinge drastically on the high expectations and assumed promises.
Camping holds an anticipation of relaxation.
Of adventure.
Of escape.
Of cheat foods, roasted over the fire.
Whatever camping is, it is anticipation—and it’s going to be epic.
So, as you’ll begin to see with an intro like which may get familiar as we go (or even just employing a copy of it), this week I’m thinking I’ll write some blur of camping accounts. Kind of like fictional camping. Blurs of my experiences and the romance with the adventuring into the wilderness that we place on camping and the activities and adventures that we hope take place while we’re there and the ones that do happen, whether we’d like them to our not.
I imagine the struggles, the negative takes, will come from either a place of attempting to be humorous or just telling the truth. It’s not all pretty out there, but we put a glorious face on it. Which is difficult to accomplish when actually camping. Have you seen that sleeping-bag bed-head?
Because my goal and purpose from the beginning, when I had this idea yesterday, was to come from a place of positive perspective on the event of wandering into a place where you’d then have to pitch a tent (or sleep outside with the hungry bears—though, truthfully, with combined consumption, I’m sure mosquitoes eat more of campers than do bears, and maybe all over predatory wildlife put together). This is the anticipation of camping—and how that sometimes plays out. We sweat hard for our escape and relaxation. Searching and seeking for a camp chair of fulfillment. Yesterday I said, idyllic. Isn’t it, that getting out into the wilderness?
Oh, happy camper.
Here we go again …
Oh, wait, since I’ve made an art of writing this introduction to our week of camping accounts, I think we’ll have to get to tomorrow to take on the mosquitoes.
Sleep tight on that lower-back rock, my friend. You’ll need your rest and strength, because tomorrow: we’re going camping!
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
Word Count: 137,717 / On Pace: 147,400 / Year’s Goal: 200,000
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