Hallo,

As I sit here scratching at about 10 chigger bites, trying not to scratch poison ivy, and wondering how many other insect and plant bites yet to be identified on my body I find the courage to say:

“Camping is gre-ea-at.”

It actually is. This past weekend is the first time I’ve gotten poison ivy in my life and it still doesn’t hold a candle to the goodness of the weekend. Don’t get me wrong. Camping will present you with opportunities to think of your nice, cozy house as you lay in a tent trying to get to sleep and counting raindrops, but it will also stun you with beauty when you wake up in the middle of the night and look at the silhouettes of the trees, and the sky beyond them. The roar of the creek nearby is better than any white noise machine ever was, and there’s no light pollution to sully the night.

HARPERS CREEK FALLS

We collected a group of friends, a decent amount of groceries and coffee, a skillet or two and packed it all in a way that could be carried upon one’s back. Packing back in is always more involved than drive-up camping. For one thing, you have to think through absolutely everything. How much food do we really need? Is it worth sticking in the hand-crank coffee grinder for the fresh-ground smell as the fire crackles just beyond and sleepy morning faces emerge?

Aside: I love that camping brings you a different face of friendship than the normal life version. You get up and whatever your face looks like is what people see, and no one cares.

We ended up hauling in a camp stove because while one can build fires in the woods to cook upon, and no doubt it’s the hardcore woodsy thing to do, have you ever had the convenience of a camp stove? Totally worth hauling in stove and fuel. I mean, totally worth having one of the guys haul it in.

I say this every single time I write a blog post about camping, but seriously, having guys there is just amazing all around. They can chop down trees licketty-split and have muscles that are much more heavy duty. When the occasion rises, they can flip a mean pancake or fried egg. Sometimes it’s not fair how multi-talented they can be.

In this case the guys really did chop down a tree for firewood. Unfortunately it was too wet to burn, but it did provide us with one of the most magical things I’ve ever seen in the woods, which I shall talk about presently.

When we arrived Friday night it was to a few rumbles of thunder to the distance. We hurried to set up camp the rest of the way, and then because we were all sweaty and sticky from hauling in large packs and food decided to go swimming on a whim. I was optimistic it would just be a short squall anyway.

We pulled on swim clothes and headed down the trails to get to the falls. When we got there it was for me to discover that the only way down to the falls was to hang on to a rope and back down a steep slope. It was about to rain, but eh, there’s a rope and if you hang on hard enough you won’t fall far.

Just on some rocks. No big deal.

It turned out not to be difficult at all, and it was stunning there. The lightning and thunder had started playing in earnest and it’s hard to describe what it’s like to swim at the base of a waterfall, at the base of a storm, with twilight falling fast.

I can still feel those mists as the wind picked up.

When we came back the next day I grabbed a few photos to show what the spot looked like.

BACK TO THE WOODS

We got thoroughly soaked on our way back to camp after the twilight swim, so the sensible thing to do seemed to be to set up a tarp, the trusty little camp stove, and make some tea and coffee to have with cookies.

There’s nothing like huddling under a tarp while the rain blows to create a memory. Think a bunch of verywethumans clutching mugs and downing molasses cookies. What a time.

What a time it all was. The next morning the sun came out, and we pulled out the coffee and food. Having skipped dinner myself the night before it was a subject of more than general interest to me to make some breakfast. It was my meal to make, and oh! It was so funny. I couldn’t figure out why the pancakes were so thick and weird in texture.

Until I discovered the oil that was supposed to go into it in my pack the next day.

Well. I’ve only made that recipe 50 times, but… in the confusion of cooking a camp breakfast I suppose there’s grace.

Yup, camp stoves are a good way to go.

Not because it’s the best, but this next photo is one of my favorites. It’s heart-warming somehow, in its togetherness.

We spent the day doing exactly what one ought to do in the woods while camping: nothing. Besides the cooking, swimming, and laying around in hammocks there wasn’t much else to do. Oh, except chopping down a tree.

Though it was too wet to burn, the tree gave us a little magic at the end of the day. I went to the creek to brush my teeth and as I came back saw that the fire ring was evacuated and everyone was standing around the tree stump.

After I turned off my headlamp I saw one of the prettiest things I have ever seen:

Glowing wood. It was like a blue/white/green color and it was all over the ground and in the tree stump. I’d never seen anything like it, and none of us knew what it was. We didn’t have any service to Google it as we would normally have done, so we just stood around marveling and speculating.

I found out what it was the next day when we returned home.

The strange glow is foxfire, which can create a light bright enough to read by. Indeed people have used foxfire to illuminate their homes or as makeshift torches as if it were fire. But rather than flames, it comes from bioluminescent fungus that feeds on the rotting logs and emanates a blue-green light.

The wood chip I brought home no longer has its light, but the weekend does.

This post had to be capped with a photo of a young visitor to the camp on Sunday. He asked to have his photo taken and struck the pose of the weekend. Such spice.

I predict swim trunks, axes, and chacos will be the next trend in camping outfits.

The new line will be entitled, “Foxfire.”

L. Raine