I just went camping for the first time in two years, and a trip like that was about two years overdue. It was with an old friend, and all totally low-key and not overplanned. Because all you really need when camping is a little pop-tent, some matches, and a screw-top bottle of wine.
After going on a 2-hour hike through a beautiful gorge and seeing some spectacular views of mountains and rushing rivers, we gathered firewood, set up camp, made a rather kick-ass, blazing fire, and ate our pre-purchased Subway sandwich while we shared stories, had girl talk, and laughed about religious nuts. It wasn't a completely convenience-less, roughin-it situation, but time spent away from computers and running water was nice. And breaking branches for the fire was therapeutic, minor scrapes and scratches and all. Made me feel tough. I got the bloody scabs to prove it. Arrrgh.
I could have stayed another night or two. Let's face it, it wasn't exactly nice to come home to my crappy little abode. But I am thrilled to say that I only have two more nights in this place: I am getting ready to bid farewell to this ghetto 'burban hovel. But at least there's a working shower. It'll be good to wash away a day and a half's worth of dirt, campfire soot, and tree sap caked onto my filthy body.
Let's hear it for nature.
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