Why I Went to the Woods

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
- Henry David Thoreau

All week, the weather forecasters had been calling for a delightful, warm, and sunny weekend. So we planned our final backpack of the year into the Quehanna Wild Area, about an hour and a half's drive from where we live.

Saturday morning, a few unexpected rain showers passed through the area. So we waited till noon for them to clear out, and then we set the cat feeder to cover meals for the Tabby during our absence, packed our gear into the car, and took off for the woods.

When we got to the parking area, we found three hunters swapping lies (How can you tell when hunters are lying? Their lips are moving!), making a good deal of commotion, and packing up their gear with all the speed of molasses in January. We didn't want to walk in with them, so we waited them out in the parking lot, then quietly sneaked off a side path to our own private hideaway in the wilderness, in what we call the Valley of the Elk.

We arrived at our camp site in the pines shortly after 3 pm. And there we set up our tents, then headed out to the rock overlooking the valley, to catch the last of the day's light. I've shown you the view of this valley in a prior blip. And I've also shown you the green pathway in, lined with trees and ferns (that isn't quite so green these days, as many of the leaves are down, and the ferns turn from green to golden brown when the leaves change color in the fall).

Alas, there was no itty bitty green welcoming committee in November. And if there was a moon, I never saw it. Unlike that wonderful full moon I photographed here back in April, rising over the Valley of the Elk.

However, there was still plenty to see and do. Eventually we got to watch a stunning pink sunset over the valley. It was peaceful and quiet, except for one set of yipping coyotes we heard in the distance (and quite possibly, mixed in, the stray whistle or bugle of an elk; it was hard to discern just who was yipping at what).

We had talked about building a fire, but truth be told, a fire is a lot of work! We haven't built a fire in the woods in years and years. First there would be the work of selecting a spot far enough from our actual camp site so that embers wouldn't put holes in our tents and gear. Then the clearing of a spot and bringing rocks up from the stream to line it. Then the collecting and dragging of wood, in an area replete with poison ivy and the occasional tick. And then being an endless slave to the fire through the evening hours.

So after we thought about it, we decided that bringing an LED lantern and some candles was an easier, more efficient, and more environmentally friendly way to go. So while it got dark by about 5:30, we had plenty of light in our campsite and spent the next few hours hanging out, listening to music (an AM/FM radio and at least one iPod and a mini speaker or two usually accompany us), and putting on increasing amounts of gear as the temperatures dropped.

And then finally, around 9:30, I called it quits for the night and retired to my own tent. After years and years of sharing a tent with my husband, I finally moved up in the world and bought my own tent about 10 or so years ago. Let me tell you that having my own tent brought about a huge improvement in my camping experience! I can sprawl out in it, dig out all my stuff, and do pretty much whatever I want in it!

And having your own tent means that when you wake up in the night and roll around a little, there's nobody to disturb. (And nobody disturbing you by unzipping the sleeping bag and tent door to go out in the night when nature calls.) It's so much better!

I took about four hundred photos on the two days of our backpacking trip, and it was hard to pick just one to post for this day. But I thought I would show you my gear. To the left is my Kelty blue women's external frame backpack, purchased from L.L. Bean in the late 1980s. (Yes, I know, it looks quite boxy and retro; nothing like the sleek newer models you see now!) To the right is my tent, which I bought from Sierra Trading Post maybe 10 or so years ago.

The fly is not on the tent but stowed inside because it's to be a clear night, no chance of rain. Before bedtime, we will hang my backpack - mostly empty, because I take almost all of its contents inside - on one of the branches on the tree to the left.

When I'm fully loaded up for backpacking, I carry about 40 pounds on my back. Here's a short list of what I carry:

backpack
tent
sleeping bag
sleeping pads (more of them as I get older!)
numerous cords for attaching stuff to backpack
a blanket
a full ground sheet for under the tent
clothes and sturdy hiking boots
reading materials
journal
music
one stuffed alligator, and his tiny green sleeping bag
a mini cooler
food, drink, spoons and forks, frisbee
several empty bags (good for carrying garbage out)
toiletries
a flashlight
a tote bag
a mini ground sheet
a folding chair
my camera!

Now, my husband insists, every time we go camping, that I take "too much stuff!" And I admit I am not generally a girl who travels light. However, when backpacking, at least I travel lighter than usual. There is something about being forced to choose the things you will carry along, knowing you will bear their weight for several miles, that makes you more thoughtful about your choices; that makes you try to slim things down.

What must I carry? What can I leave behind? And this kind of thoughtful winnowing, friends, goes for things that are not necessarily things in life, either. What are you carrying? Do you still need to carry it now? Is it something you can leave behind? Nobody needs to give you permission but yourself, my friend, to lay that heavy burden down!

I will admit here that I do not necessarily trumpet gleefully the thrills of backpacking itself, which is to say the walking in with all this junk strapped on my back. No, I do not like that much at all. "And now we enter the stooped position of the backpacker," my husband says (not without some level of glee), as he lifts my pack and helps put it on my back. Me, groaning: "Are we there yet?"

But once I am in the woods, far from civilization, self-sufficient and with only what I've brought to sustain me, it's a wonderful feeling. I particularly enjoy waking up in the woods. You'll never see a glimpse of dawn from here unless you slept here. But you'll get to read all about that in my Sunday blip. :-)

(Read about Day 2's adventures here.)