Dawn View Through My Tent

Sproul State Forest Spring Backpack Trip, Day 2 of 2. (You may find the summary of Day 1's adventures in the prior blip.)

I woke up in my tent and opened my eyes. And then I reached for my camera. For the view through my tent's stargazer panels was just lovely: all green pine trees and dappled morning light. Can the day start any better than this? These are some of the most precious moments in any camping trip: waking up in the woods.

It was quite chilly out; below freezing, in fact. For the frost they had predicted had come. Our overnight low at the Pine Glen campsite had been just 28 degrees F. I listened for sounds of stirring in the tent next to me, but all I heard was snoring. My husband was still fast asleep. So I spent the half-hour until he awoke just gazing at the sky and thinking deep thoughts.

My husband got out of his tent immediately when he woke up; sat in his chair. He is not one for lollygagging. Then again, his tent isn't nearly as spacious and roomy and airy as mine! (Thank you, stargazer panels.) One of his first acts of the day was to set up our music system for our enjoyment: an iPod and a little speaker, and some mellow music to start the morning. A little James Taylor to ease into the day? Why, thanks; that's just about perfect. (Gordon Lightfoot is another great choice.)

I spent a few hours enjoying the comfort of my tent. And outside, at some point, I heard the noise of tent stakes being removed, and then the poles, and then the tent itself came down. "Taking down your tent?" I asked my husband. "Naw . . . " he said, "Not really." But in a second, his tent was all down, with his gear airing out in the sun nearby. This is a game we play. He takes down his tent, all the while denying he's doing it. He puts it up the same way.

And so eventually, reluctantly, I got out of my own tent and began breaking camp. For we had miles to go before our path would take us home, and many things to accomplish. I took all my stuff out of the tent, stashed it on the half-groundsheet that I use for things like that, took my own tent down, put my tent groundsheet in the sun, aired everything out, and then began packing it up.

For the trick is not just getting everything you need TO the woods (no, that's just half of it), but getting it all back in the proper sacks and strapped back onto the pack for the walk out, and then into the car for the journey home. By early afternoon, we were both strapping the last few things onto our packs. I was done before my husband, which is unusual. He looked at me proudly, as I strapped the last thing on. "I see I've turned you into a backpacker," he said. I raised my eyebrows, gave a shrug: "I'm not really sure yet that I'm going to be a backpacker," I said to him with a grin.

And then we shouldered our packs and we packed it out, and got our gear into the car, and headed for home. We had seen a sign at a local market the day before advertising a steak special. We stopped and bought three things: a few packs of New York strip steaks, two bottles of olives, and a half-gallon of milk. We stopped just once more: to fill up my car with gasoline at Sheetz.

And then we headed home, with all of the normal tasks of "after the camping trip" ahead of us. Unpacking the car, rinsing a thick layer of green pollen off it with the hose, emptying the cooler, airing out and putting away our gear, and getting back to all of the business of civilization.

But there would be no finer moment in the day than the one in this picture: those silent, peaceful moments in the tent at dawn, with the freshness of a new morning all about me, the dappled sun above me, and all of the promises of the day ahead of me.

For the soundtrack to this picture, I've selected one of the James Taylor tunes we listened to on this morning. Here is a favorite: JT, with Sweet Baby James.