The Bee Whisperer Goes Camping
This weekend, Todd and I went camping in Shenandoah National Forest. It was great. The weather was just about perfect, with a warm sun and cool breezes, and a sky so clear that at night, we could see the Milky Way.
We didn't really have a plan until Thursday night. We decided that we should spend Friday shopping for a few camping supplies we lacked, then head out Saturday morning, spend the night, and head back on Sunday.
So we drove out to Shenandoah with our gear in the trunk, and hiked the Whiteoak Canyon Trail, which passes by some lovely waterfalls, including an 86-foot fall right in the middle of the trail. The falls were pretty low, due to lack of rain, so we climbed up on the exposed rocks and ate lunch by a pool somewhere in the middle of the waterfall.
When we returned, we drove to Skyland lodge, where we purchased sweatshirts and a flashlight. We had completely forgotten to bring a flashlight and realized we might end up needing one in the middle of the night. Likewise with the sweatshirts - it was cooler than we'd expected in Shenandoah, and we figured it was going to get down into the high forties during the night. We decided on dinner at the lodge instead of dinner in the woods, ate up, drove to the Stony Man Horse Trail, and strapped on our backpacks (well, I was just using my regular backpack - Todd's the one who had to be strapped in). We followed that trail for a bit, then turned onto the Appalachian Trail, which apparently runs from Maine to Georgia. I was somewhat enchanted by the idea of taking six months to hike the entire thing. Just imagine how strong you'd be by the end!
But we didn't go anywhere near that far. We hiked until we found the cliffs mentioned on the map, then looked around in that area for a campsite. Once our tent was complete, we returned to the cliffs, sat down on a relatively flat spot, and watched as the earth rolled us away from the sun. It was gorgeous, watching the horizon go reddish-orange and seeing the stars slowly appear in the dark blue sky. We saw the Big Dipper, identified the North Star, saw a satellite moving on a polar orbit, marveled at the Milky way, and even caught sight of a few shooting stars.
When we'd had our fill of stargazing and had started to really feel the chilly wind coming over the cliffs, we took out our new flashlight, stumbled up a rocky slope to our campsite, and slept.
The next day began with bowls of corned beef hash, which I thought looked exactly like cat food, and a brief but delightful deer sighting. Once the cat food was all gone, we packed up our tent and headed back to the lodge for, at least in Todd's case, a cup of coffee. We went out on the balcony together to admire the view.
That was when I acquired a pet bee. For some reason, this bee decided that I was the most fascinating thing in the world, and that my watch was clearly a flower. Now, I am not afraid of bees, and I have always frowned upon the usual reaction to them, which is to freak out and flail in the bee's general direction. I feel the only advantage gained by this approach to bees is that it provides a small amount of exercise. They aren't aggressive unless provoked by excessive flailing or the like.
I blew on the bee to encourage it to leave - no luck. I tried walking away, but it followed me. It settled on my watch and tasted it, trying in vain to find the nectar. I thought perhaps the bee would realize there wasn't any and just leave on its own, but, well, bees aren't very smart.
The next tactic was to carry the bee over to a flower and hope that it would find the flower more enticing than my watch. The nearest stand of flowers was perhaps ten yards away. I started walking, but eventually the wind created by that motion disturbed the bee, and it flew up close to my face, so I slowed down and raised my watch. The bee settled back onto the watch, and I started walking again. It was disturbed a couple more times, flying behind me and close to my chest to avoid the wind, but each time I offered it my watch and it settled down again. When I was finally close to the flowers, I held out my wrist, and the bee left my watch to investigate. Within moments it was heading back in my direction, though, so I quickly stepped away, and at last I was free. Todd, amused by these antics, dubbed me "The Bee Whisperer."
We were so sore from all the hiking we'd done that we decided to stop hiking and head back home. Thus our Shenandoah trip concluded. Even though I was sore and my feet had developed blisters, I was sad to leave. As cheesy as this sounds, I left with a greater awareness of the earth and my body. I don't mean that in a spiritual sense - I simply find that when I've been very clean and comfortable for several weeks, I start to feel like a spirit moving through a world I can see but not touch. When we left Shenandoah, I was achy and kind of dirty and could still feel the rocks under my feet. That makes the world more real to me.
I can't wait to go camping again!
We didn't really have a plan until Thursday night. We decided that we should spend Friday shopping for a few camping supplies we lacked, then head out Saturday morning, spend the night, and head back on Sunday.
So we drove out to Shenandoah with our gear in the trunk, and hiked the Whiteoak Canyon Trail, which passes by some lovely waterfalls, including an 86-foot fall right in the middle of the trail. The falls were pretty low, due to lack of rain, so we climbed up on the exposed rocks and ate lunch by a pool somewhere in the middle of the waterfall.
When we returned, we drove to Skyland lodge, where we purchased sweatshirts and a flashlight. We had completely forgotten to bring a flashlight and realized we might end up needing one in the middle of the night. Likewise with the sweatshirts - it was cooler than we'd expected in Shenandoah, and we figured it was going to get down into the high forties during the night. We decided on dinner at the lodge instead of dinner in the woods, ate up, drove to the Stony Man Horse Trail, and strapped on our backpacks (well, I was just using my regular backpack - Todd's the one who had to be strapped in). We followed that trail for a bit, then turned onto the Appalachian Trail, which apparently runs from Maine to Georgia. I was somewhat enchanted by the idea of taking six months to hike the entire thing. Just imagine how strong you'd be by the end!
But we didn't go anywhere near that far. We hiked until we found the cliffs mentioned on the map, then looked around in that area for a campsite. Once our tent was complete, we returned to the cliffs, sat down on a relatively flat spot, and watched as the earth rolled us away from the sun. It was gorgeous, watching the horizon go reddish-orange and seeing the stars slowly appear in the dark blue sky. We saw the Big Dipper, identified the North Star, saw a satellite moving on a polar orbit, marveled at the Milky way, and even caught sight of a few shooting stars.
When we'd had our fill of stargazing and had started to really feel the chilly wind coming over the cliffs, we took out our new flashlight, stumbled up a rocky slope to our campsite, and slept.
The next day began with bowls of corned beef hash, which I thought looked exactly like cat food, and a brief but delightful deer sighting. Once the cat food was all gone, we packed up our tent and headed back to the lodge for, at least in Todd's case, a cup of coffee. We went out on the balcony together to admire the view.
That was when I acquired a pet bee. For some reason, this bee decided that I was the most fascinating thing in the world, and that my watch was clearly a flower. Now, I am not afraid of bees, and I have always frowned upon the usual reaction to them, which is to freak out and flail in the bee's general direction. I feel the only advantage gained by this approach to bees is that it provides a small amount of exercise. They aren't aggressive unless provoked by excessive flailing or the like.
I blew on the bee to encourage it to leave - no luck. I tried walking away, but it followed me. It settled on my watch and tasted it, trying in vain to find the nectar. I thought perhaps the bee would realize there wasn't any and just leave on its own, but, well, bees aren't very smart.
The next tactic was to carry the bee over to a flower and hope that it would find the flower more enticing than my watch. The nearest stand of flowers was perhaps ten yards away. I started walking, but eventually the wind created by that motion disturbed the bee, and it flew up close to my face, so I slowed down and raised my watch. The bee settled back onto the watch, and I started walking again. It was disturbed a couple more times, flying behind me and close to my chest to avoid the wind, but each time I offered it my watch and it settled down again. When I was finally close to the flowers, I held out my wrist, and the bee left my watch to investigate. Within moments it was heading back in my direction, though, so I quickly stepped away, and at last I was free. Todd, amused by these antics, dubbed me "The Bee Whisperer."
We were so sore from all the hiking we'd done that we decided to stop hiking and head back home. Thus our Shenandoah trip concluded. Even though I was sore and my feet had developed blisters, I was sad to leave. As cheesy as this sounds, I left with a greater awareness of the earth and my body. I don't mean that in a spiritual sense - I simply find that when I've been very clean and comfortable for several weeks, I start to feel like a spirit moving through a world I can see but not touch. When we left Shenandoah, I was achy and kind of dirty and could still feel the rocks under my feet. That makes the world more real to me.
I can't wait to go camping again!