On Jul 1, 9:37 am, (Arch) wrote:

Camping was a change, never an escape.

I see and agree with a whole lot of what you said. Especially the "to
each his own" parts.

But for me, camping IS an escape, and a chance to do something I
really love to do.

My most fun camping trip was about 20 years ago when I went to
Yosemite, and hiked the high loop in the wilderness area. Since so
many people are hurt and killed in that area, they suggest you check
in every other day to make sure you are OK, but that too, is optional.

For about 12 days I carried my pack, tent, food, and equipment about
160 or so miles. I slept in the tent, filtered my drinking water from
the streams, ate dried food, bathed and washed clothes in the fresh
COLD mountain water, and walked through the prettiest terrain I had
ever seen in my life. I was with my BIL, and it was not as good a
trip for him because he got altitude sickness as the trip from the
floor of Yosemite valley to the upper rim of Mt. Vogelsang is quite a
difference in height.

With no business phones, no home phones, no pagers, no TV, or any of
the other trappings of my daily life I had the best time you can
imagine.

Strange what you remember. My natural tendency is to be a night
owl. However, that lifestyle wore me out so badly that I would make
camp, eat, sometimes read for a few minutes (I took Dumas' Three
Musketeers with me) and then go to bed. That meant that I got up at
dawn, as the birds couldn't wait to get going so they were sqawking
and singing away at first light. It was heaven.

I remember too, one of the things that gave me intense pleasure. I
would wake up, and in the dim light I would pour a cup full of water
in my large stainless cup and light my mountain camp stove. By the
time I had boiling water for coffee, the sun was usually just starting
to peek over the gorgeous scenery that seemed to be every place you
looked in Yosemite. I can't tell you what it was like to sit with a
cup of coffee on a 40 degree morning and watch the sun come up over
the mountains and pine trees.

Thanks for stirring that memory, Arch.

Robert