Free the trout.
The allure of camping is being one with nature. Being closer to the universe. Feeling the dirt and dust on your skin soothing any pain. The sun warming your soul. The wind taking your troubles away. (For those that haven’t figured me out yet, I am obsessed with Jay Farrar).
I'm not sure where my first camping trip was or my age at the time. I would guess it was before my folks split up. I do remember camping with my dad many times between ages six and ten. We would go on fishing trips, National Park visits and road trips in the station wagon. He taught me how to bait fishing hooks, set the reel and rods of the poles, keep the fish on a stringer on the side of the boat to keep them fresh, gut and clean the fish and then how to cook them over a campfire. What he didn't recognize is that, as a seven year old girl, I was bored out of my mind sitting in the boat watching the ripples of the lake top swish by while waiting for the fish to bite. Oh, he tried to make it fun for me. Or at least his version of fun. That consisted of reciting the timestables from zero times zero to twelve times twelve along with advising what clubs I should join to get ahead in life - the math club, student government and the history club to name a few. I was more interested in music, boys, track and soccer. He also didn't realize that I made friends with our catch of the day. I would name the trout fun nicknames and have telepathic conversations about our day. I was then horrified when he cut off the heads and sliced open my new friends. To this day I refuse to eat trout.
When I started planning my current adventure, I had visions of setting up my favorite two-person aqua The North Face tent in a prime spot at the Watchman Campground in Zion National Park, directly in front of the ginormous red rock wall. The spruce trees would provide a shady spot for me to tie up my pups while I cooked a delicious breakfast consisting of pancakes and bacon. The universe would engulf my being, both mentally and physically, heal my wounds and I would once again be grounded.
As I started to look into reserving camping spots, I realized that many other folks had the same idea. Campgrounds in all of my favorite places were completely booked for months. Out of desperation, I did a search for “glamping”. An activity I never thought I would partake in as it wasn’t true camping and I can be a bit of a purist.
I found a spot that was intriguing - Under Canvas Moab. Accommodations included a canvas tent, a king size bed, a wood burning stove and running water. It was either glamping or sleeping on the side of the road somewhere so I opted for glamping.
As I drove the six hours from Idaho Springs, Colorado, stopping multiple times for doggy breaks, I wondered how big of a sellout I had become. Me…glamping…it was disgraceful. The experts say that we are our own worst critique, and I am no exception. I was not going to let myself off that easy. But as I checked in at the front desk, the host quickly put me to ease with her friendly and down to earth demeanor. She explained the camp rules; no WiFi, no eating in the tent, and quiet time starts at 10PM. S’mores and a group campfire were available from 7PM until 10. She gave the pups these massive treats and sent me on my way to tent number two.
The tent was huge and I was still feeling a little sheepish for my choice. That is until I realized there was an actual flush toilet behind a wall in the tent. The worst part about camping, and there are only one or two unpleasant things, is when you use the public bathroom or outhouse, pull down your pants, squat, start the stream going, and then realize there is a GIGANTIC spider looming above, waiting to bite you in the ass. It happens every single time. A spider-free throne - a girl could get used to that! Quickly I embraced the new me. This trip was about shifting my thinking and making a change after all. What better place to start than the crapper.
After unpacking my camp stove, solar powered string lights, extra blanket and other necessitates, I headed to the communal grill area and roasted some mini tri-colored potatoes in tin foil seasoned with crushed cayenne pepper, salt and a drop of sugar to give a sweet and spicy flavor along with a thick, grass-fed ground beef burger. After all, eating a cow I had never met was far better than gutting and grilling my fishy buddies from my youth!
I ate as the sun was setting, casting pink and orange hues on the already red walls of rock. Dinner was melt-in-your-mouth delicious and the scenery was breathtaking. I made some new friends around the campfire, sharing marshmallow treats, war stories about work and travel tips from recent days. Walking back to my tent I looked up and saw billions of stars in the deep, dark night sky. I thought about all the sadness and hurt that I had felt over the past few weeks. It just felt so insignificant compared to the Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt and the North Star. In the big picture, we are just small and irrelevant balls of energy trying to survive and not have our heads cut off and bodies gutted. I decided that life is hard enough as is. Instead of making life more challenging, why not give everyone the benefit of the doubt, enjoy life a little more and know that in our own way, we can not only create joy for ourselveslves but can pass that joy to others everyday. And as I drifted to sleep, I thought six times six is 36… six times seven is 42…and 42 is the answer.
