Camping, at long last!
It has been forever since I had the chance to go camping. At college, camping was a luxury I could ill afford, both in time and money. Besides, Ellensburg was so undeveloped that it was almost like camping at times. There was also little need to use camping as a pretense of
I love the outdoors. I can even forgive the outdoors for the lack of electricity and proper sanitation, because it is so damned nice to not have air and noise pollution at every turn. Cooking is a little more primitive, but it still tastes so good. The relaxation factor does take a little discipline - after being in the city where job and life are an endless chain of one activity after another in rapid succession lacking much time to take a breather, let alone get a decent night's sleep, camping has no pace other than what you give it. Sleep in a bit, make a nice little breakfast, eat it at leisure, tidy up, take a walk around, watch the sky for a bit, sit back and sip a mug of cocoa or water, maybe pick up a fishing pole and toss the line out a few times... There are things to do, but there's no rush and no optimal order of which to speak.
I went with my friend Mike to the North Fork campground. It's a small campground with less than two dozen sites and situated right along the north fork of the Cispus River. There was some fine fly-fishing and also plenty of rain, but the trees are just dense enough to provide some filtering. We relaxed a lot, though I was a bit of a stressed wreck in trying to get there.
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New rules of camping:
1. Courtesy dictates that you must walk over and kick in the teeth of any parents with ruly, noisy brats. Forced sterilization with crude camping implements is encouraged.
One of our neighbors had four squalling, unwashed FUCKSPAWN with all the discipline of the monkeys on display at the zoo. They ran around like it was a McDonald's Playland, screaming at the top of their lungs and crying for attention at the slightest provocation of a sibling. The estimated ages showed that the parents most likely get to fucking as soon as the slovenly woman squirted another welfare-draining meatlump out of her cooter. They had a kid of no more than two years of age, who bawled in abject terror at several points through every night. Their attempts at disciplining their offspring were half-hearted at best and showed a complete lack of an authority structure in their family unit. Hell, the parents were even having sex at one point, too! Mike and I have two hypotheses going: Either they are shooting for quantity over quality, or they are simply trying to see if they can produce an offspring that ISN'T a raging retard.
"*SPLOOT* Oh damn, this one's an idiot too. Let's try again honey!"
2. When drinking the boozahol, walking near the campfire without assistance is expressly forbidden.
Sunday night, Mike and I had been enjoying the company of Jack Daniels in our relatively empty tummies (side note: granola bars and trail mix aren't quite enough to help buffer against alcohol). Mike stumbled around the firepit and tripped. He's lucky he didn't cook his face in our mini-inferno of a campfire, but he did manage to give himself a nice burn on the lower right part of his right palm - it made a lovely blister and the night's buzz was lost to first aid and self-recrimination.
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Oh yeah, I also did some real flyfishing for the first time. I caught two fish, but they weren't keepers. All in all, I had a good time and hopefully there will be more camping in the near future!
I love the outdoors. I can even forgive the outdoors for the lack of electricity and proper sanitation, because it is so damned nice to not have air and noise pollution at every turn. Cooking is a little more primitive, but it still tastes so good. The relaxation factor does take a little discipline - after being in the city where job and life are an endless chain of one activity after another in rapid succession lacking much time to take a breather, let alone get a decent night's sleep, camping has no pace other than what you give it. Sleep in a bit, make a nice little breakfast, eat it at leisure, tidy up, take a walk around, watch the sky for a bit, sit back and sip a mug of cocoa or water, maybe pick up a fishing pole and toss the line out a few times... There are things to do, but there's no rush and no optimal order of which to speak.
I went with my friend Mike to the North Fork campground. It's a small campground with less than two dozen sites and situated right along the north fork of the Cispus River. There was some fine fly-fishing and also plenty of rain, but the trees are just dense enough to provide some filtering. We relaxed a lot, though I was a bit of a stressed wreck in trying to get there.
==========================================================
New rules of camping:
1. Courtesy dictates that you must walk over and kick in the teeth of any parents with ruly, noisy brats. Forced sterilization with crude camping implements is encouraged.
One of our neighbors had four squalling, unwashed FUCKSPAWN with all the discipline of the monkeys on display at the zoo. They ran around like it was a McDonald's Playland, screaming at the top of their lungs and crying for attention at the slightest provocation of a sibling. The estimated ages showed that the parents most likely get to fucking as soon as the slovenly woman squirted another welfare-draining meatlump out of her cooter. They had a kid of no more than two years of age, who bawled in abject terror at several points through every night. Their attempts at disciplining their offspring were half-hearted at best and showed a complete lack of an authority structure in their family unit. Hell, the parents were even having sex at one point, too! Mike and I have two hypotheses going: Either they are shooting for quantity over quality, or they are simply trying to see if they can produce an offspring that ISN'T a raging retard.
"*SPLOOT* Oh damn, this one's an idiot too. Let's try again honey!"
2. When drinking the boozahol, walking near the campfire without assistance is expressly forbidden.
Sunday night, Mike and I had been enjoying the company of Jack Daniels in our relatively empty tummies (side note: granola bars and trail mix aren't quite enough to help buffer against alcohol). Mike stumbled around the firepit and tripped. He's lucky he didn't cook his face in our mini-inferno of a campfire, but he did manage to give himself a nice burn on the lower right part of his right palm - it made a lovely blister and the night's buzz was lost to first aid and self-recrimination.
==========================================================
Oh yeah, I also did some real flyfishing for the first time. I caught two fish, but they weren't keepers. All in all, I had a good time and hopefully there will be more camping in the near future!