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Recently the wife and I ventured into the cold, dark heart
of nature in order to prove to our long-gone ancestors that we are capable of surviving
as they did, in harsh and angry world devoid of modern comforts. Just as they
did, we spent our days walking and our nights under the stars. We cooked our
food over a roaring fire and raised a toasted marshmallow in tribute to those
who came before us.
Oh and
also like our ancestors, we kept a car close by. You know, to keep us and our
food safe from marauding bears and to drive in case we wanted to go somewhere that
was really far away and we didn’t
feel like walking.
Alright
fine, so maybe our ancestors wouldn’t exactly have been bowled over by our definition
of roughin’ it, but still, we did survive a weekend spent predominantly
outdoors. That has to count for something. Get off my back, ancestors.
Probably
the most important part of any camping trip, after the tent, a knife and
finding a cool walking stick, is the fire. Without a fire, you got nothing. No
s’mores, no light, no warmth. (Editor’s
Note: These things are listed in order of importance from most important to
least important.)
As I’ve found out from past camping
experiences, lighting a fire without the benefit of electricity or propane or
what have you can be trying. Very trying. You got to find the right blend of
large and small bits of wood, you need something to get it going with, be it
matches or flint, etc. So this time, I planned ahead. On the way home from work
on the day we were set to depart, I stopped at a local grocery store and picked
up two Duraflame logs. Duraflame logs are amazing. They’re what Prometheus got
busted stealing from the gods. At my wife’s suggestion we also packed a bunch
of wood that’s been collecting in our backyard. We had prepackaged
corporate/Ancient Greek fire and we had lumber. We were set.
First night, the Duraflame log
worked like a charm. We had ourselves a nice roaring fire and all was well.
However, I think I got a bit overzealous with feeding said fire and on the
second day, I began to worry that we may be running short on wood. We couldn’t
spend a night camping without fire. That meant no s’mores. If we didn’t have s’mores,
we might as well have just stayed home.
On our hikes during the second day,
I kept my eyes peeled for tree parts. Being as though we were in a public
campground, the pickings were slim. Still I managed to find a few promising
subjects and we brought them back to our campsite. I still feared it might not
be enough.
I was right. Before the sun had
set, our second Duraflame log had consumed all of the rest of our wood,
including what we’d found that day. I had to act. S’mores are a nighttime food
and our fire wouldn’t make it without more wood.
Luckily there just so happened to
be a trail next to our campsite which led to another series of campsites, all
of which had been shut down for the season. I spied a few interesting pieces up
there during our hikes earlier in the day and so that was where I headed. I
made a beeline passed a nice family and their three small dogs who were just
out for a stroll. I was on a mission. I reached the campsite I’d noticed
earlier and found a number of helpful small branches … and one giant log. Using
all the strength I had in my surgically-repaired robo-wrist, I lifted the log
and the branches and headed back to my fire. I once again passed the nice
family with the dogs. They looked perplexed.
We were once again back in
business. My plunderings carried us through s’more time and well into the evening.
Soon, we were once again facing a wood shortage. The smaller pieces were all gone
and the remnants of the Duraflame were no match for the giant log which
remained. Even though it was now completely dark, I knew what needed to be
done.
I ventured back up to the abandoned
campsite with flashlight in hand to search for more wood.
In very
short order I realized two things. One: It was going to be a lot harder to find
wood. The campsite I’d hit up earlier was tapped out so I needed a new spot and
now it was dark. The other thing I realized is that, a slightly inebriated male
aged 18-30 wandering alone in the woods is a prime target for any iconic,
mask-wearing mass murderers who just so happened to be vacationing in the area.
This made me quite nervous. The constant snapping of twigs and branches I heard
also made me quite nervous. They also annoyed me because I could use those
twigs and branches for the fire. Where were they?
Eventually
I found a good-sized log and returned – quickly – to my fire. Sadly, the log
was too wet to do much of anything with and we had to let our fire die. I’d faced
down almost certain death at the hands of any number of horror movie monsters
and all for naught. Ah well. It’s all part of the camping experience.
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