kenjisan

Camping Notes

This weekend, I set aside my city ways and went into the woods in search of spiritual enlightenment. Well, sort of. Big Meadows wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I mentioned camping, but it was still a lot of fun. I'd never been "drive-up" camping before, and while we weren't pitching our tent right next to the trusty Protege5, it wasn't like we were cursing ourselves when we forgot something either. It also didn't help that the people to the left and right of us had those propane lanterns that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns (the people to our left had two of them... two thousand suns?), and that another group somewhere in the distance had a not-so-talented folk soloist in their midst.

My boss asked me last week why people feel the need to forego a comfortable bed, running water, and all the conveniences of home and hearth. What draw is there to sleep on the ground in the woods?

Interestingly, without any media devices/input, it's really difficult to tell time. I literally have no idea what time I went to bed. I know it was dark. I know that it had been dark for some time. But was it an hour? Three hours? Six hours? I'll never know. Same goes for the time I woke up, and the only reason I know the answer to that one was because I checked. I thought it was 10. It was 8. Sounds kind of disheartening, but it was actually wonderfully freeing. I went to bed when I was tired, I woke up when I was not. Simple as that.

I'm not sure how to answer my boss's pragmatic questions. I don't know what compels me to camp, or hike, or do anything that has no obvious purpose. Even now, after doing it, all I can do is shrug and say, "It was fun." But I think there are intangibles to be taken into account here. Inspiration, for example. Wonder. And in the end, what's wrong with "It was fun." I enjoyed it. What better reason is there than that?