Post by desert dweller on Jun 20, 2021 14:09:05 GMT -8
I was going through some old document files on the computer and came across this entry. The oldest date on the file is from November 2002. I've posted it here before some many of you will remember it. I've done both of these kinds of camping. Pam, the person in the second scenario is still a friend. I found written in one of my old calendars that we did the hike in 1990.
Two Scenarios
Scenario One
A couple with children arrives at the trailhead. Five people and one very excited dog get
out of the SUV and start to remove hiking gear. Two large packs and three relatively
smaller packs are lined up against the vehicle. The adults make last minute preparations:
distributing the weight and checking the inventory one last time. The three kids look
around at the trees and run up to see the sign and bulletin board where the trail starts.
They run back and confirm to Morn and Dad that they are indeed at the right place.
The trail is familiar to them and they aren't worried about making time. The family stays
relatively together. However, the kids run ahead on occasion to scout the trail, catch up
with Fido and make discoveries. Everybody drinks plenty of watered down Gatorade,
eats their gorp and they do not litter. After a few hours they arrive at their regular
campsite by the lake.
The fire ring is set three hundred feet from the lake's edge. The kids immediately throw
off their packs and run for the water with the faithful pup right on their heels. The parents
Scenario One
A couple with children arrives at the trailhead. Five people and one very excited dog get
out of the SUV and start to remove hiking gear. Two large packs and three relatively
smaller packs are lined up against the vehicle. The adults make last minute preparations:
distributing the weight and checking the inventory one last time. The three kids look
around at the trees and run up to see the sign and bulletin board where the trail starts.
They run back and confirm to Morn and Dad that they are indeed at the right place.
The trail is familiar to them and they aren't worried about making time. The family stays
relatively together. However, the kids run ahead on occasion to scout the trail, catch up
with Fido and make discoveries. Everybody drinks plenty of watered down Gatorade,
eats their gorp and they do not litter. After a few hours they arrive at their regular
campsite by the lake.
The fire ring is set three hundred feet from the lake's edge. The kids immediately throw
off their packs and run for the water with the faithful pup right on their heels. The parents
expected this and smiled and shouted the mandatory yet moot warning to the kids about
being careful. The kids yell back that everything would be o.k. They know the routine.
The folks set up the tents first and start to get the camp looking like a camp. The children
come walking back and they are set out again to look for downed wood for the fire. While
they are out, the dog chases squirrels and birds, without catching any, and sniffs at everything.
The two boys and girl come back with arms loaded full of wood. The fire is started and it is
an hour before the sun goes down.
They all sit around the fire and tell stories and relate what is going on in their lives. When
the coals are just right food is cooked and eaten. Smoores and Jiffypop are consumed.
The fire warms them and acts like familial glue. Dad points out some of the brighter stars
and they look for meteors. The kids are in bed by nine and Mom and Dad stay up arm in
arm while the flames die on the last piece of wood and all that is left are the deep orange
and red coals of a well made and much appreciated fire.
The next morning the parents get up around eight and start a breakfast fire. The kids
mosey out of their tent and run once again for the lake's edge. They know that they will
be heading back that afternoon. When the morning ritual is finished, they pack everything
up. The campsite is thoroughly checked. The fire is out, the little pieces of camp litter are
found and everything they came with is going back with them.
Back at the trailhead they load up the vehicle and start back down the primitive road to
the highway. The kids and dog have fallen asleep by time they reach it. Morn and Dad
smile. They know that hiking and camping is one of the best activities a family can do
together.
Scenario Two
On the drive down we don't say much. After weeks of interacting at work, being
inundated by TV and family life, the silence seems like a gift from God. We have
backpacked together many times and share some of the same philosophies when it comes
to getting out. More than a treat, it is more like a mini-retreat to remind us what life is all
about. In addition to working, Pam is married and has two boys aged six and four.
Murray, her husband, does not hike so we have continued our ventures even after they
had gotten together.
Even though we are going to a favorite place and can visualize every step, the experience
will be unique. The mountains look different every month of the year. Temperatures,
flora, clouds, colors, wildlife, the number of other hikers we see, all change from day to
day. Some changes are subtle and some are dramatic. On this day the summer heat is
stifling. At the trailhead we make a few comments which reflect our excitement of
heading out again. Our equipment and supplies are redundant. Different about our packs
are the little personal things we bring and the food we eat. We are independent and could
each survive without the other.
Like turning off a steadily dripping faucet our first step on to the trail mutes us. The
spring is about six miles in. We will travel through manzanita groves, thickets of scrub
oak and juniper, gardens of cacti and on into old growth ponderosas and spruce
intermingled with black walnut, Mexican pine and alligator bark junipers. Occasionally,
we will exclaim about the overwhelming and intricate beauty of an unspoiled land. For
the entire trek to the campsite we have spoken less than ten sentences each.
Arriving at the spring we look around for recent use. The first thing to do is to dismantle
the fire ring that has been placed too close to the seep and it's puddle. Our tent goes up at
a small but adequate flat area. There is not a lot to clean up from the previous hikers that
have been here lately. After doing so we explore the canyon separately. I go to a large
boulder hidden from view by a clump of trees. Sitting on the rock with eyes closed the
breeze brings a soothing coolness. I can hear the rustle of leaves, the buzzing of bugs and
an occasional distant snap of a branch. I have brought binoculars and a bird book and
spend the time trying to find the source of the calls. Soon a couple of hours have passed
and I head back toward the tent.
Pam is there preparing her dinner from scratch using ingredients she brought. I can hear
the roar of her stove before I get there. From the pack I grab my usual freeze-dried stuff
and start the boil-soak-boil-soak-boil-soak ritual to get my food into a palatable state.
We talk softly. So different from city life is this that we greatly treasure the moment.
After dinner and our pots are cleaned it is getting dark. As the sun goes down our eyes
adjust to the blackness.
Through the treetops the sky is filled with points of light so thick that there is little space
between them. Even without a moon there is enough light in the forest to see the ghostly
movements of nothing. For fun I get out my night vision goggle and look to see what
makes the sounds we hear. When it is later and I haven't looked up at the stars and my
eyes have totally adjusted to the blackness, I will try to follow the trail testing my night
vision. I get about a hundred or so yards being guided by subtle shades of gray and the
feel of the trail edges under my boot. But, the going is slow and I use my flashlight to
make my way back to camp. Pam is already in her bag and half asleep. I get in mine and
They all sit around the fire and tell stories and relate what is going on in their lives. When
the coals are just right food is cooked and eaten. Smoores and Jiffypop are consumed.
The fire warms them and acts like familial glue. Dad points out some of the brighter stars
and they look for meteors. The kids are in bed by nine and Mom and Dad stay up arm in
arm while the flames die on the last piece of wood and all that is left are the deep orange
and red coals of a well made and much appreciated fire.
The next morning the parents get up around eight and start a breakfast fire. The kids
mosey out of their tent and run once again for the lake's edge. They know that they will
be heading back that afternoon. When the morning ritual is finished, they pack everything
up. The campsite is thoroughly checked. The fire is out, the little pieces of camp litter are
found and everything they came with is going back with them.
Back at the trailhead they load up the vehicle and start back down the primitive road to
the highway. The kids and dog have fallen asleep by time they reach it. Morn and Dad
smile. They know that hiking and camping is one of the best activities a family can do
together.
Scenario Two
On the drive down we don't say much. After weeks of interacting at work, being
inundated by TV and family life, the silence seems like a gift from God. We have
backpacked together many times and share some of the same philosophies when it comes
to getting out. More than a treat, it is more like a mini-retreat to remind us what life is all
about. In addition to working, Pam is married and has two boys aged six and four.
Murray, her husband, does not hike so we have continued our ventures even after they
had gotten together.
Even though we are going to a favorite place and can visualize every step, the experience
will be unique. The mountains look different every month of the year. Temperatures,
flora, clouds, colors, wildlife, the number of other hikers we see, all change from day to
day. Some changes are subtle and some are dramatic. On this day the summer heat is
stifling. At the trailhead we make a few comments which reflect our excitement of
heading out again. Our equipment and supplies are redundant. Different about our packs
are the little personal things we bring and the food we eat. We are independent and could
each survive without the other.
Like turning off a steadily dripping faucet our first step on to the trail mutes us. The
spring is about six miles in. We will travel through manzanita groves, thickets of scrub
oak and juniper, gardens of cacti and on into old growth ponderosas and spruce
intermingled with black walnut, Mexican pine and alligator bark junipers. Occasionally,
we will exclaim about the overwhelming and intricate beauty of an unspoiled land. For
the entire trek to the campsite we have spoken less than ten sentences each.
Arriving at the spring we look around for recent use. The first thing to do is to dismantle
the fire ring that has been placed too close to the seep and it's puddle. Our tent goes up at
a small but adequate flat area. There is not a lot to clean up from the previous hikers that
have been here lately. After doing so we explore the canyon separately. I go to a large
boulder hidden from view by a clump of trees. Sitting on the rock with eyes closed the
breeze brings a soothing coolness. I can hear the rustle of leaves, the buzzing of bugs and
an occasional distant snap of a branch. I have brought binoculars and a bird book and
spend the time trying to find the source of the calls. Soon a couple of hours have passed
and I head back toward the tent.
Pam is there preparing her dinner from scratch using ingredients she brought. I can hear
the roar of her stove before I get there. From the pack I grab my usual freeze-dried stuff
and start the boil-soak-boil-soak-boil-soak ritual to get my food into a palatable state.
We talk softly. So different from city life is this that we greatly treasure the moment.
After dinner and our pots are cleaned it is getting dark. As the sun goes down our eyes
adjust to the blackness.
Through the treetops the sky is filled with points of light so thick that there is little space
between them. Even without a moon there is enough light in the forest to see the ghostly
movements of nothing. For fun I get out my night vision goggle and look to see what
makes the sounds we hear. When it is later and I haven't looked up at the stars and my
eyes have totally adjusted to the blackness, I will try to follow the trail testing my night
vision. I get about a hundred or so yards being guided by subtle shades of gray and the
feel of the trail edges under my boot. But, the going is slow and I use my flashlight to
make my way back to camp. Pam is already in her bag and half asleep. I get in mine and
mumble a good night and a thank-you to the forest.
The next morning I make coffee and eat a granola bar. We head out about mid-morning
after checking the site one more time. Back at the truck we feel refreshed, renewed and a
little wiser.
Statement and question:
To me these two scenarios represent different philosophies. The first one is what I call the
"camping" experience. The second one I call the "wilderness" experience. I don't know if these
are valid terms or could even be considered different methods of backpacking. Perhaps I
am splitting hairs to even mention it.
So is there a difference between "camping" experience and "wilderness" experience? Are
"camping and hiking" and "backpacking" the same things?
I am just curious.
dd
The next morning I make coffee and eat a granola bar. We head out about mid-morning
after checking the site one more time. Back at the truck we feel refreshed, renewed and a
little wiser.
Statement and question:
To me these two scenarios represent different philosophies. The first one is what I call the
"camping" experience. The second one I call the "wilderness" experience. I don't know if these
are valid terms or could even be considered different methods of backpacking. Perhaps I
am splitting hairs to even mention it.
So is there a difference between "camping" experience and "wilderness" experience? Are
"camping and hiking" and "backpacking" the same things?
I am just curious.
dd
