Month: June 2020

Along the dividing line of West Virginia and Virginia we spent our weekend. Trekking across one side of the primitive campground to another would find us standing in a different state. Somewhat meaningless yet also a touch odd to think that people sleeping in a neighboring site would be subject to a different jurisdiction’s laws. I did not analyze the map carefully though now I am curious whether any of the sites straddled the divider as well. Funny how the closer you get to liminal spaces the less defined things can become. You learn this concept in various forms at various ages, whether as Zeno’s paradox, Paul Simon’s Slip Sliding Away, To Kill a Mockingbird, or a host of other fodder for the brain. Truly, though, state lines such as this one matter little for the point of the adventure was to be outside, and for much of the time when immersed in the woods and surrounded by critters flocking about and the vacillations of weather concepts like state lines become inconsequential.

Generally, Kelly and I would not car camp if not for climbing or it being part of a larger trek, such as a stop along the way to a destination. Should we jet toward Ten Sleep this year, it likely won’t be via a plane but rather involve an extended drive to and from Wyoming, which will surely find us sleeping in tents as we churn through the miles. The prospect of this drive makes me desire a vehicle more suitable for sleeping within. Nothing against car camping, but my preference would find me trekking away from the car with my supplies on my back, to escape people and get deeper into the thick of the vistas and away from roads and the like. Some friends haven’t been camping and this seemed like a reasonable way to share this sort of experience without complicating things. And, it’s not like car camping isn’t fun, for we had a great time passing time through enjoying nature while conversing. And, I appreciated the convenience of a cooler and even the sanctuary of a car when rain arrived, though the tent would have sufficed as well.

 

It is lovely to listen to the birds as you feel the air currents and smell the richness of earth and flora. Owls called, as did scarlet tanagers, orioles, towhees, among others. Squirrels and chipmunks performed their frantic dashes. Surely somewhere a snake or two slithered and hid, though our eyes never noticed any such animals. Gnats and mosquitos had their ways with us at times, but they never felt rampant or bothersome, simply served as transient nuisances, appearing and then dispersing.

People were likely the most prevalent. Nine sites, each save one was taken when we arrived. Fortunate, indeed. Along the first trail we hiked, we saw numerous people. People on people. Giant groups of backpackers in the form of boy scouts as well as family units made more robust by their friends. This location is popular; beautiful, accessible hikes not far from metropolitan areas, yet not as renowned as the big-name nearby national park draws.

A solid weekend. I miss the campground already. Being home is simply not the same as roaming. I look forward to the weekend ahead. Only three days of work and then escape shall arrive.

Our plan to climb this weekend crumbled. Not unexpected, but its collapse fits within a label titled disappointing. I was excited to flail on some rock. Looking back at our last trip within this region, which now seems like so long ago, memories of routes and laughter and that buzzing energy that is friends delighting in nature, story forming, and an escape from the daily repetitions of urban life. Another week shall return me to this pursuit. For, given the breakdown of our small crew, we’ve turned to backpacking. To get away from electronics, the car and our home (which has been quite the mainstay of our hours) so that we might take in flora and fauna more directly while immersed in the visual, olfactory, and audible splendor of wilderness excites me. Climbing shall await another weekend.

I am curious to see if our relentless pursuit of physical exertion will prove useful during our trek. Backpacking is hard work. Hiking alone can often feel a touch brutal, with the elevation changes, uneven ground, and persistence of boulders and/or streams to navigate. Compiling into the equation a heavy pack notches up the intensity noticeably. Many memories exist of me struggling along a trail, overwhelmed by the weight and yearning for a campsite or car, depending on which stage of the trip serves as our narrative at that moment. The drudgery of motion conducted against adversary while surrounded by beautiful sights is an uplifting sensation hard to convey to those who dislike exertion and/or being outdoors. I suspect adventure shall prove difficult, as always. A distant, elusive reality remains in terms of what level of fitness must we obtain to lessen its brutality.

The prospect of becoming benighted while sitting near a tent pleases me. I look forward to the sky dimming until the darkness reaches its crescendo. Complete darkness offset by whatever phase the moon might be in. And as the sun’s direct blaze diminishes, those playful pinpricks of light bouncing off of Planets and emitting from stars shall pop into the sky’s breadth. All the while, the temperature shall transform down various degrees of warmth. And, certain animal sounds shall transition into silence as others awaken. These night creatures becoming our background symphony. Insects. Perhaps bats. The patter of various rodents.

I am excited. I look forward to this escape from the deep marks of familiar days that we have been etching. Climbing, that activity shall be experienced another week. For now, we take to our feet so that we might pare down and seek some escape into the essentials, of which nature shall be predominant.

Spotify provides a Discover Weekly playlist, which includes tracks from artists to which I’ve listened as well as similar artists of whom I may not be aware. It’s an eclectic mix filled with songs new to me, as well as covers of songs by bands that I haven’t before heard. I do not often check out the offerings when they refresh; and, when I do, I find the next track function to be my friend.

Today, I did not feel like listening to an audio book. I could sense that my mind wished to wander, thus it would pointless to try to play the current book on queue for I’d end up needing to repeat whatever played. Oftentimes, I’ll meander through thoughts and find myself hitting rewind, and, today, seemed like the entire venture of attempting to listen to an audio book would prove pointless.

A few successive tracks tucked about ten or so tracks into the mix pleased me. I had heard of one of the bands, though know not much about their music. One of the songs that followed has played many times for me, including versions by multiple artists, but never by the particular group, of whom I am not familiar. Onward went my journey through the playlist, with liberal use of the next button included.

Then I recognized another song: These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ by Parquet Courts. Again, though knowledgably of the song, the artist’s name meant nothing to me. The cover isn’t all that great, but it struck me. My brain started to fire quickly, meandering through related thoughts. My pace quickened. I had never before heard a male sing this song. Entwined in my consciousness as a female voice, the lyrics felt foreign and odd. Askew.

Then it struck me, I had imbued some social constructs into the song. The narrator, to me, needed to be female. It was a female perspective. I had gendered this particular tough persona in response to a wandering partner. How strange the male voice felt revealed to me assumptions I had imbued into the speaker of the song. Exposed perspectives, such as the femme fatale, that dwelled within concepts I understood, all related to this song. That a male singer had flipped the narrative, prompted me to question why I had certain viewpoints, felt beautiful Art does this, even if the rendition itself was not all that spectacle, it as a prodder to get me to adjust some aspects of this life thing justified me allowing it to play to conclusion.

Google informs me that Billy Ray Cyrus covered this song in 1992. Looks like this epiphany could have occurred years ago, had I only listened to popular country at the time. Though, I probably wasn’t receptive to this sort of pondering and reassessment back then.

Walk on out of me, societal beliefs built upon nothing more than the air of past voices.

Songbirds migrate at night to avoid predators. That’s something I learned today, though this fact did not arrive during trivia. Rare does something arise during trivia that’s notable. Though, now I can tell you who was the first actor to grace Time (the magazine), and Spielberg made a comedic war film early in his career (titled 1941). Neither of these facts interest me all that much, not as much as the one about songbirds. It’s one A.M (which is a film starring the first actor to appear on Time). I suppose warblers, cardinals, buntings, and others of their ilk travel the night skyways as I type these words. Kelly has migrated toward sleep. There, I should join her before long.

Speaking of movies, we watched Vast of Night over at a friend’s backyard. Projector. Five people in chairs, bellies full of shitty pizza, and a touch of dessert and alcohol describe the scene. As does an overgrown yard. Imagine someone had taken a box and pushed down the grass where we’d be sitting. Everywhere else, thigh high. I should have checked myself for ticks afterward. Fun, though, sitting outside as the sun vanished to send the temperature toward perfection. It was a fun film; good for the milieu. Not creepy or scary, but well filmed. Thoughtfully put together. Decent acting. Reminiscent of the Twilight Zone. Tension, build up, and aliens.

Prior to the film, dusk brought marvels. Bats swooped in, buzzing unnervingly near. Chaotic fluttering. Zipping and zooming. Diving. Erratic. Eaters of mosquitoes, I thank them. A raccoon also meandered into our zone, and by zone I do mean nearby. It was a touch alarming how close this critter desired itself to be. We chased it off – bright lights, loud words. The neighbor had a motion-sensor floodlight. The racoon, and or other night creatures, had its way with the sensor throughout the evening. A festive night for all, it seemed. Meanwhile, vireos, orioles, and other avians flit toward their destinations.

Not a bad weekend overall. We played with the camera, taking some silly photos and recording some videos that I’ll try to splice into short films. Ample gaming, with us exploring Sagrada and Barenpark, mostly. Simple games, though fun. Exercise and walking around outside also passed the time, as did cooking. Next weekend we may try to head somewhere to climb. It’ll be wild to climb again. It’s been months. I foresee struggling up easy routes. I’m quite excited! It’s going to be a lot of fun. Weather, please be kind.