First Backpack: Sunset at Our Moshannon Campsite

Well, Mother Nature and our schedules finally strung together two quite lovely days indeed, with a clear night in between, at a time when neither of us had medical appointments, car appointments, lunch dates, or family or other commitments. So we packed up our gear and went backpacking for the very first time this year!

It seemed like it had been way too long, and when I got my gear out of the closet, it didn't even seem familiar. But I have a checklist that I keep for most things, and yes, I have one for backpacking too, and so I whipped out my list on Thursday afternoon when I got home from my lunch date and started packing.

So it was that on Friday morning around 9:30, we left our house, with all of our gear in the car, and headed for Moshannon State Forest. It was a bit colder out than I'd expected (our high for the day would be 59 degrees F), but cooler is better than hotter for backpacking, at least for people like us. And soon we were in our element. Which is to say, the woods!

By shortly after noon, we'd had a hot breakfast along the way, packed up our gear, and walked in to our campsite above Black Moshannon. The walk is not an overly hard one, but there is a tricky part in the middle, of finding your way into, and then back out of, the area of woods where we camp.

One time we strung a white Walmart bag across a key tree, that hangs at an angle over the trail. When we used that strategy, we had no trouble at all finding our way back out in the end. This time, we kicked our game up a notch: my husband brought an orange ribbon, which we would place on the tree on our way in, navigate by it, and remove it on our way out.

So we were feeling pretty slick and hopeful about the whole thing. But the gear seemed strange to my hands, it had been so long. I found myself handling my tent poles and finding them to be at LEAST 12 feet too long! (They actually did fit in the end.)

We always have music going, and so our camping tasks AND our relaxation always occur to a soundtrack, as you shall see. In short order, we had our campsite set up in the back-country. My husband hung his orange hat above my tent so I would not get shot, as spring gobbler hunting season would open the next morning.

One of the fine amenities of modern camping is the lightweight blow-up sleeping pad, and I have a very nice one called Big Agnes. Big Agnes is green and she provides a better night's sleep than regular flat sleeping pads. But she is a real b*tch to pump up. It takes a while, sometimes a long while.

I go in my tent and hump and pump, and Big Agnes is unfazed. Eventually, I get a charley horse, my feet start to sweat, my limbs go numb, and I lose all hope. I look at the thing: is there even any AIR in it? But at this point, the evening was young. I was full of hope.

Around dusk, I went into my tent and started on Big Agnes. I remember it well because my husband had just started the Stevie Nicks album, Bella Donna, which is one of my absolute favorites. I pumped through the first five songs of Bella Donna, and we were well into the sixth, Edge of Seventeen, when I gave up. (We're talking around 25 minutes here.)

Later, as I was walking around my tent, admiring the view, I thought Agnes looked a little flat. So in I went, with my trusty pump. I pumped Agnes halfway through the Doors song The End. (Those of you who know this song know it's a LONG one.) And I thought I was done, but I wasn't. Oh, there is more.

But in the meantime, the sun would set around 8:30 p.m., and it was very peaceful and mellow at our campsite, and a whip-poor-will called, and the company and the music were good, and we weren't anywhere near home, so we couldn't be held accountable for accomplishing any of the things we'd left undone there. (Including leaving the door to the freezer open an inch on the refrigerator, as it turns out; but we would not learn THAT news until after we arrived back home, the following day.)

Later in the evening, my husband went into HIS own tent to blow up HIS sleeping pad. (Yes, he has an even better one than I do.) A few minutes later, I asked him how it was going. He said, "Both my wrists ache, I have a cramp in my right leg and buttock, I feel light-headed and nauseated, and I don't know how much longer I can go on!" (Well, so things are going SWIMMINGLY then, eh?)

And as the evening shadows drew long, the temperature fell, and what happens then is that the air constricts inside a blow-up sleeping pad. And what did this mean, when I finally went into my tent around 10 p.m.? Yep. A very flat green Agnes awaited me (Is there a HOLE in this thing? I asked), and I pumped her some more, entirely through the Don Henley song I Will Not Go Quietly. So as Don Henley and Axl Rose wailed their way through the cold night air, and a fine canopy of stars sparkled overhead, I finally had my sleeping area in order and ready for bed!

Now, about this photo. Here is a picture of our campsite. That is my Alps Mountaineering tent (the green thing on the floor is Agnes her very own self!) and Kelty backpack on the left. There's my husband sitting in his chair watching the sun go down, with his tent in the distance (yes, we each take our own tent; trust me on this, I love my husband dearly, but it is so much better this way). The whip-poor-will had not yet called when this picture was taken, so we had not yet learned the important news, eagerly awaited by us children every spring: that it's finally time to go barefootin'!

My soundtrack for this story is the three songs in my tale where I thought my task with Agnes might be done.
Stevie Nicks, with Edge of Seventeen.
The Doors, with The End.
Don Henley with Axl Rose, I Will Not Go Quietly.

Tune in tomorrow for the rest of the tale!