A Humid Hocking Hills (& a canoe trip)

It's about time I started posting again. It's been 3/4s of a year, but on July 22nd of 2011, I went camping with my brother Bryan in Hocking Hills.

It is, of course, a common place for us to visit due to its convenience. But it's far from the most rugged and wild experience.

How this trip would go was perhaps foreshadowed by the fact that my plans to backpack in the Great Smokies were shut down. We even were planning on going to Mohican (since he hadn't been there in the summer), but those sites were full.

So at 6:30pm, we got a walk-in primitive site, H-13, at Hocking Hills. We got the tent set up quickly, and got everything inside, when it instantly started raining. We lied around listening to the rain, which was welcome as it cooled things down.

This summer and spring has been hot and humid, partly due to La Nina, and (I suspect), somewhat due to climate change (at least the intensity of the heat, not the heat per se).

At night, it rained some more for a little bit. The cool air was welcome. I saw lots of stars through the tree canopies.

The night was pretty awful though; my sinuses were completely stuffed up. I kept getting temporary relief by blowing my nose and popping my ears. Somehow, I eventually fell asleep, and woke up the next day with a clear nose.

Well, the next morning we went on a much needed jog up and down the campsite path. Did about 2 miles. After that, we drove to the visitor's center to cool off, and then hiked at Old Man's Cave. Waded through the water a bit.

Then we drove to Rock House and explored that. We napped in the parking lot for a bit, and I kept having dreams about us not hiking I think. Then we went to the Rock House and I had Bryan go down the ol' Rock Slide with me.

Then we drove around and looked at some random little gift shops and food areas. There were a lot of random kitschy baubles. Then we drove to a place called Lake Logan. It was an artificial lake created by a dam. And it had a fake beach.

It was pretty windy and cool, and we could see a storm brewing in the distance. Nice weather, and it was admittedly quite relaxing to sit around there. But it all felt so out of place.

After that, we returned to the campsite. At one point during the evening (8:22 according to my written journal), there was a bit of serenity. Droplets coaxed by the wind fell from the canopy above onto our tent. Fog was rolling like silence through the forest floor. It was beautiful. Both the humidity and the hectic pace of consumer America were quashed by the cool dampness that seemed to be emitting from the trees. Even the frantic flies had settled. There was just a bird or two. Sitting. Singing softly. Serenity.

That night was a bit better in terms of my sinuses, though I did have a headache, which I relieved by putting a heavy object on my forehead.

The next morning was deceivingly cool. We had foregone dinner the previous evening, so we both had 2 hot dogs.

We packed some things up and headed over to Conkle's Hollow and Ash Cave. They were, of course, beautiful.

We decided not to stay another night. Around 4pm, we went to a local Italian diner to eat. It was quite tasty.

Here is what I wrote on my journal about this experience:

"It was very humid the whole trip, and I wonder if I could have backpacked in this weather. I believe a problem with this trip was that we always were in a car to drive somewhere, so we A) never adjusted to the heat and B) Always had our mind on the future, the A/C, rather than the present.

I also wonder if my thoughts of Allison kept me distracted from the present.*

Another issue is that Hocking Hills is such a sight-seeing park. In Ash Cave, as I stared at the beautiful waterfall, the layers of jade-green leaves and their dark trunks, and the looming, somehow iridescent cave, I felt that desire for "more," to "take it in." It felt like the same urge you get when you try to fulfill true needs with reified material things.

I realized this is the same sort of nature objectification that millions take part in each year around the country.

To fully revel in nature, you must BE it. I wanted to climb the rocks & trees, swim in the water, and go barefoot.

How else can you truly experience nature? This is why a backpacking trip with close friends in true wilderness is necessary and desirable. Real, Genuine human beings & nature are the key to life. Otherwise, there is no fulfillment. There is no actualization & fulfillment. There is no wonder, there is no transcendence."

That is all I have to say about Hocking Hills.

But as a side-note, 2 weeks prior to this trip I went on a day trip canoeing with 5 friends on the Little Miami River in Ohio. It was a good time. We swam around sometimes in the river and explored the land. Other highlights include a jumping platform someone had made from barrels (it brought me back to Phelps Lake), and a rope swing tied to a tree. I went off of it twice, and on my second time, went high and far. It was exhilarating.

*A girl that I had a crush on. After this trip, I visited her in Seattle and we are now dating. hoorah!

Hocking Hills in the Winter

I was stressed from school and society, and both Robby and I had been itching for some nature. So we planned an impromptu trip that took place on the weekend of January 15, 2011, or MLK Weekend.

That Saturday, he arrived at about 5:20 on campus. I grabbed my backpack and walked out to his car. We got food at a fantastic restaurant on High Street in Columbus called Ali Baba's. This was near my friends Nneka and Laura's apartment, so I popped in and said hi.

Robby and I ate our platters (I had the veggie platter and he the lamb) as we drove on the highway to our destination. It became dark very quickly (it already was dusk when we departed). That drive was quite memorable and enjoyable; there was a great feeling of excitement and joy, and the food was delicious, and we just talked passionately about society.

We talked about things like dancing and inhibition, and how being around people who are willing to dance with you make it so much easier to disinhibit yourself. We talked about how for us, the biggest worries in life were being anxious about being yelled at or judged. I thought of how, if everyone had what they needed to survive, and nobody was judgmental, and more people were connected to their humanity, everyone could be so happy.

At one point as we drove, we took a detour at an intersection simply to explore and see what there was. There wasn't much, but it was worth it to check, haha. I believe we saw some sign that sounded interesting.

Finally, we arrived. We peed in a forest near the visitor's center, and then started to register ourselves to a campsite. We stopped and drove to look for a campsite, and saw the old primitive sites that we had stayed at during our first visit to Hocking Hills.

These sites were closed, however, so we went back to the registration site to reorient ourselves and figure out where the non-electric sites were. When we got back to the visitor's center, a park ranger pulled up in his truck and came out to talk to us. He helped us figure out where to go, and was extremely fun. Once again, I am impressed at how unintimidating and friendly park rangers are, especially for being authority figures. This is how all authority should be. I wonder if all that nature just gets to their souls and makes them absolutely open and happy.

The ranger also told us that we had missed the big annual winter hike (I had heard about it before online), and that they had about I believe he said 3,500 or maybe 350 people. Either way, a very impressive number. It is good information for the future.

We thanked the ranger and made our way to the campsites, which we realized were the same we had used during our spring trip. Well, we saw two other groups camping, which was quite good to know; we told ourselves we HAD to talk to other people who were around, and were looking forward to it. One had two people who were already in the tent, shining their lights around. Another was chattery and lively, and had a good fire going. So we walked over to say hi to them.

They were very friendly, and many were from Columbus, and others from some place in Indiana. One worked at a bike shop called Bare (Baer?) Wheels (which he told us the next morning). Anyhow, we sat down wtih them by the fire and introduced ourselves. They told us about themselves as well, and pointed out one of the girls who had not been camping often. We were impressed that she was winter camping on her second trip only. They offered us ale, but we didn't want any. We did, however, have some cold s'mores they gave us, which were delicious. My pants were getting soaked a bit, so one gave me a perfect sitting log. They were a bit tipsy, and one had actually commented that she had never gone camping and stayed sober. Which was sorta shocking to me. I can certainly see the appeal of drunken camping, but to not be sober in nature ever is quite a shame. But we finished talking and departed.

We walked to the resevoir (Lake Rogers) to sit around. We passed by a small ampitheater (I remember seeing it last time), and did some shadow puppets on the screen. For some reason, we have this fascination with ampitheaters. I guess just the strangeness that they are always at nature parks, and the appeal of the idea of everybody gathering round to watch a good old fashioned performance or speech. And, perhaps, also our love of performing ourselves.

We continued on, past the bathrooms, and past a large encampment of boyscouts. They were mostly in this picnic structure, though some were by a fire. We said hello but they said nothing.

The path was icy and we had to do what we called the "Pow-wow walk" to prevent ourselves from walking too hastily and slipping. We just stomped hard with each step. We also joked that "Two white men by the fire is worth one Indian slipping in the ice."

Well, we finally got to the resevoir, and walked down the steep, slippery hill to the actual shore. It was beautiful. There were thick winter clouds above, and the lake was frozen over with varying patterns of ice and powdery snow.



We simply gazed out at the lake, and then lied down and stared at the moving clouds, which were beautifully eerie and strangely nostalgic. We crossed the small bridge and looked at the forest, which, despite the darkness, was strangely unimposing and clear due to the blanket of snow and the bare broad-leaf trees. We hiked for a short while on trails that went along the lake shore, talking about how it was quite scary, and then turned back and returned to the campsite.

We got back to the campsite and started setting up the tent. I believe we saw our friends from the other campsite while we did this. The tent finally got up, and we took all these blankets from Robby's car and put them in there. It was quite a cozy setup.

We then snacked on some cold, fluffy pancakes he had made previously. He said they didn't taste good, but when we ate them, they were absolutely wonderful. They hit the spot perfectly, especially when combined with that cool, fresh water. We also ate a piece of chocolate bar that Robby had accidentally pilfered from the people we met.

As I wrote in my journal and read, Robby played some Alan Watts on the good old portable speakers. Perfect example of how nature and technology blend wonderfully when done right. Finally I "went to bed" at ten. At midnight, my mom had called, but I did not answer. At the time I didn't know who was calling, I just knew I did not want to answer.

It was strange. All throughout the night, I was not sure if I had fallen asleep or not. I was very aware of being awake it seemed, and every time I "woke up" I wondered if I had actually been asleep at all. I even had a dream that I was in a cold tent (albeit a very big, festival-esque one), trying to stay warm, and that Bryan was all sarco-mummied up (which Robby was in real life). At one point, our friend Derek came in and was wearing only a T-shirt and shorts, which Robby and I both felt seemed like something he would do in real life.

At around 4:00am, I awoke, again unsure if I had been asleep. I went out to pee, because my need to pee was making it harder to fall asleep. Robby did too, and when he did it (I didn't have my glasses on at first), he gasped at the fact that the sky had cleared, and there were stars. How strange and magical that they would be out at this opportune time.



Click for a better look!

And so we just lied in the tent for a bit, doors open, and stared at the stars. They were so bright, so refreshing to see, so beautiful...

We started talking about/in the Native American accent that we had been using. We laughed hysterically, I remember, about a variety of things, but mostly the accent and the fact that we were using it. It was a great mid-night happening.

I fell asleep again, this time dreaming that we were at Lake Rogers (though it seemed more like a swimming pool), and Robby was impressing a crowd by walking across water (he was at the place where the ground is right where the water is, forming an illusion). I was acting surprised, but then went to do it myself, but for some reason it did not work and I ended up swimming in the water.

Well, we awoke at 7:00 and hiked over to Lake Rogers. We wanted to watch the sunrise, and we hiked around a bit through the forest trails. It seemed it was too cloudy to see the sunrise.


But as we were making our way back to the campsite, we could see the glowing disc of the sun through the trees. It was beautiful, and the colors cast themselves across the sky.

We packed up our tent and put everything in the car, and then headed off to find a grocery store for breakfast.

We ended up finding a local, small supply store that had everything we needed. There was an old woman, Pat, and an old man, we think Everett, working there. We bought flour, bacon, eggs, a can of chilly beans, a block of pepperjack cheese, oil, wood, and firestarter.

We came back to the campsite and began preparing for the breakfast feast. We lit up a fire, and Robby got his newly bought iron skillet out. We oiled it up after it got hot and Robby cooked six eggs on it. I then took flour and water and a bit of oil and mixed it all with a chopstick in Robby's new camping cup (a gift from Sun-Jan). The cup was PERFECT for stirring dough. Robby put the eggs into a different cup of the same camping set, and cooked up the bacon. After cooking the bacon, we used the bacon grease for our flatbread/frybread. It was so fun to press that dough into the perfect discs, and then cook them up. Definitely becoming a camping tradition.





It was all so delicious, and we feasted indeed. Finally, we cooked up those chilly beans, which we both thought an odd choice (but when I had seen they had "medium sauce" flavor, I thought they might be good). They proved to be delicious, like miniature potatoes in a tobasco-esque sauce. We also cracked one egg into the skillet to mix it up a bit.

It should perhaps be noted that I am usually vegetarian, but temporarily abstained from my abstinence for this trip.



The Morning.

We also had offered food to the group we met the previous night, but they were heading off to bob evans. I found this funny considering we had gone there during the previous 2 Hocking Hills trips with more than 2 people.

Well, we said goodbye to them, and then warmed ourselves by the dying fire before heading out. The fire felt extremely good on my cold hands.



We packed up all our trash and stuff and made our way to the trails. But first, we had to find a gas station. We drove all around, and finally made our way to the town Logan. I drove to the station because Robby wanted to look at the map. We filled up, and Robby's inner fat man kicked in, so we stopped by walmart to get some softee donuts, some cheese dip, some townhouse crackers, and bananas.


Shameful. Also, that dog.

We then made our way to Cedar Falls. We stopped first at a bridge and walked over it and met a friendly old couple. We talked to them about the falls as we realized we were going the wrong way.



We drove over to a different trailhead and did a short hike to the falls. But first, we saw a large rock wall.



We got to the falls, and there was a huge group of hikers who were on the trail as well. That didn't stop us from climbing up on the rocks and sliding carefully across the frozen waters. Icicles were hanging from the overhang above, and the waterfall was partially frozen, with water trickling beneath the translucent ice.



We messed around for a while and took pictures. I could have sat on that rock for hours just taking in the scenery and the air. It was quite beautiful.





As I clamored over the rocks to make it back to the main trail, I saw a disgusting sight: someone had stuck a food can underneath one of the rocks, and it had mold growing all over it. Robby also saw caution tape, though that may have been tied there on purpose. But it was also an eyesore, completely disrupting the natural beauty.



So we took the trash, hiked out, and threw it away. We then drove a while to good old Rock House. It was so beautiful and it still impressed me at how massive the "house" was, despite my having been there before.





We looked around in awe, and then we had to climb down and go down the Rock Slide.



At the end of the slide was a huge, icy waterfall. It was incredible, and we watched it for a while, just lying in the snow. The different layers if icicles, the drips of water like evidence of life from a once lively creature, now in hibernation...





We hiked back to the parking lot and just sat in the snow for a while, taking in the winter atmosphere.

After this, we went to a place up north we had both not been to called Cantwell Cliffs. We hiked on a trail surrounded by huge rocks and went through a tight place called "Fat Woman's Squeeze." We hiked around until we saw a massive mound of ice in the center of a large, ampitheater-like cavernous structure. Icicles hung down from its walls.


This is not the Fat Woman's Squeeze. That was actually even narrower.




We walked carefully until we were able to climb down and get next to the ice structure. It was very precarious because of all the ice-covered ground.

It really was like an amphitheater, by the way. Here's the proof:



I wonder if Native Americans once used it as such. They were known to roam around in this park.

We ran into a few people and talked. One of them seemed like he was from Somalia or that general region. He probably lived in Ohio, but it made me wonder how well known this state park is around the world. We asked where he had hiked to, and he told us he saw another waterfall the opposite way of the big ice mound.


So we went through the Squeeze again and hiked a short distance until we saw it. It was grand, but after seeing the mound of ice, we didn't want to keep hiking.

So after that, we headed out.

But the fun did not end there. As we drove, we listened to Michael Franti music, some of his rare tunes. I drove most of the way because Robby was too tired.


We got back to the familiar Powell and got some Greek food (Mediterranian again!) from Greek Express. Then we met up with Bryan at the condo and just hung around in peace after laughing hysterically while using Native American accents.

Good times, good times.

Tales, Thoughts, and Tidbits

First, I would like to post about two pseudo camping trips I had in November of 2010. I had participated in a protest to support the labor workers of Sodexo, a multi-national corporation that abuses workers everywhere. It's headquarters are in Paris, and it threatens workers trying to form a union/cuts the wages of those who already are in them. It gives unfair hours and poverty wages in America. There is rampant racial, gender, and age discrimination. In other places, like Columbia, a pregnancy test is required before women are hired. In Africa, they still have segregated cafeterias for the workers! The previous year, actor Danny Glover participated in a civil disobedience demonstration in our very own Columbus, Ohio. There was another CD event this year, but I was unable to make it. Anyway, I slept in a tent on campus for the entire week (monday night till friday, I had missed sunday night though). And you know, it was better sleep than what I had gotten in the dorms, even with the artificial lights.

We were given bagels for breakfast all the time. It was nice getting to know everybody in the cold weather, and I'm now good friends with a lot of them.

After this event, I went with some friends (who were also involved) from an environmentalist/social justice group known as Free The Planet to Hocking Hills. I just remember the absolute relief I felt when we arrived. Peeing and staring at the starry, clear, open night, taking in the silence and fresh air... We camped on the property of someone they knew (who was apparently trying to turn the big field into an eco-community). We had a great night, eating pasta and cold salsa, drinking wine from a jug, and talking by the fire. But due to the wine and perhaps some herbs, I got really weird during the night, and felt terrible the next day. Vomiting, awkward bowel movement, etc. The mere smell of the campfire smoke sickened me. So I stayed in the car while they hiked Old Man's Cave. It was a good bonding moment though!

Anyways...

I just have two nature-related thoughts. One: My cousin Robby once told me that it is natural (or at least this happens when camping a lot) to wake up frequently throughout the night. And indeed, this certainly happens when it is cold. I wonder if first, this is true. And if it is, I wonder if it is a way for the body to appreciate sleep in the present moment. That might be too metaphysical/philosophical for some, but all I know is living in the present is good, and when you are aware of how precious that sleep is, it helps you do that.

This is especially relevant to my next post about an impromptu camping trip we took to Hocking Hills on January 15th, 2011. That will come later.

Another thought I had came to me last year as I looked over a paper I had written during the Spring Quarter of my freshman year at college. It was for an Environment and Natural Resources/Landscape Architecture writing course, and was about a place we valued in our heart. Mine was Shenandoah National Park, and I talked about how at first, I was underwhelmed by the constant, seemingly unchanging forest environment. Compared to the Sierras of the west, it at first seemed slightly boring.

But I realized just how connected this environment made me to the landscape and to nature. I found beauty in it anyway, not only in its aesthetics, but also the values it taught me of simplicity, freedom, and more.

What I realized was that too often, we objectify nature.

Think about it. Take Sarah Palin's show on TLC for example. The very same politician who's motto during the election was "Drill, baby, drill!" and who does not support the poor and oppressed said of the Alaskan wilderness: "Why can't everybody enjoy this tranquility?"

The extreme hypocrisy bothers me. She wants to drill for oil, and calls any policy to help the poor (who don't get nearly enough exposure to nature, especially wild nature) "socialism," yet she wonders why every American cannot enjoy the absolute privilege she has of being in the wilderness?

This comes from this objectifying mentality. A congressman once made the argument in support of drilling in ANWR because it looked like a blank, white piece of paper he held up. Not only is this a complete misrepresentation of the land's beauty, but it misses the point entirely.

We cannot only preserve those areas that are undoubtedly and obviously beautiful. We cannot let the simple forests of the midwest, or snowy, rocky tundras, or any other generally aesthetically "unappealing" wilderness go to waste and become developed. These areas have their own beauty, and they teach the important values of simplicity, true happiness, etc., that are so lacking in society.

There is an eco-feminist movement, and though I don't know if they have talked about the objectification of nature, I do know that the idea is that mother nature is, to the male gender role mentality, a feminine object meant to be destroyed and controlled. Masculinity as defined by society as tough, strong, uncaring, ends up not only harming women, but also raping the environment. I think there is certainly truth to this sociological perspective.

This overtly masculine, socially constructed mindset can result in the objectification of nature, where landscapes that are extremely beautiful are held in esteem, but for all the wrong reasons. Like a supermodel on the cover of a magazine, Yosemite or Yellowstone are reduced to non-living objects, to be viewed at a distance from the roadside.

Landscapes that do not meet the social standard of natural beauty are undervalued, and thus mountaintops are removed for coalmining. Who would do this in the rockies? Perhaps these lands, being undervalued, are seen as "vulnerable" and therefore people "rape" them.

Well, all I know is that I've grown extremely fond of the plain old forests of Shenandoah. I hope soon to go backpacking in the Great Smoky Mountains, which I imagine have a similar landscape.

Oh, I have a few more things to write about: Just before winter break, there was at one point a very snowy storm that went on while the red sun was setting. It was one of the most beautiful, alluring, mysterious things I had seen. The video does not do it justice. It was a chaotic flurry of snowflakes everywhere, and in the distance, they blended into a crimson haze. The sunlight seemed to diffuse through the cold haziness, making the air glitter and glow.



Also, check out these pictures/video of a hawk eating a cold squirrel on campus that I photographed recently:







And now, a couple obligatory sky pictures and a video:


"Burn the land and boil the sea; you can't take the sky from me." - firefly



Oh, one more thing: I've been reading this great environment-related book called Greed to Green by Charles Derber. It takes a sociological look at the global warming issue, illustrating how denial is still produced with corporate green washing, and how global warming may be far more catastrophic than people say. Also, it often hits on how the environment is related to social justice and inequality, which is extremely important considering the white, upper-middle class air a lot of outdoors/nature activities have.

Nature is for all.

Petoskey State Park Camping (and more!)

Due to computer problems and laziness, I had not yet made a post about my latest [real] camping trip in Petoskey, Michigan.

The trip took place early September near the end of my summer break, and I had really wanted to go backpacking somewhere, like North Manitou Island of Sleeping Bear Sanddunes. But, my parents wanted to go to an area close enough to the national lakeshore to taunt me, but far enough to not be able to go backpacking there. My parents wanted to stay in a Hampton Inn.

But Petoskey State Park turned out to be quite a nice place for camping and exploration. And the drive there yielded some nice pictures of the clouds.



We arrived at the Hampton Inn on a cold night, and we were all staying together in the hotel first. It was a bit stressful; a lot of people, including my parents, are too disconnected and afraid of nature. I had to go downstairs and relieve my stress on the treadmill, so I jogged barefoot on it.

The next morning we enjoyed a nice free hotel breakfast. I don't know why, but I always enjoy those. The food is always good enough for me, and I guess family breakfasts just don't happen that often.

Anyhow, we drove out towards the park through the town of Petoskey, which is a pretty rural/suburban community. A very wealthy one, too. There were a lot of quaint Victorian looking houses (that my mom was obsessing over due to the recent decision to repaint the house).

But civilization was not what I was looking for; I had had enough of that for the time. But before we arrived at the park, we stopped at Walmart to do last minute camping shopping, since this was sort of an ill-prepared camping trip for us. All I have to say is that I wanted to get out of that Walmart immediately. The sterile, artificial atmosphere, the low-quality, materialistic products, and all the people there that did not interact with each other... Ugh.

We arrived at the park, and at first it did not look too promising; there was a simple parking lot, some forests in the distance, and a small ranger station. But I looked at a sign and saw a picture of a good looking set of sanddunes.

We got our camping pass and set our tent up.



After setting up camp, Bryan and I sat around for a little while my parents walked on the beach. We later went walking around on the dunes as well, but Bryan was tired and went back. I continued exploring.

The beach was beautiful, and even more so were the sanddunes.



The entrance, so to speak, into the valley of dunes was quite beautiful. The grass flowed from the lake shore wind. The expanse of the dunes seemed outdone only by the intricate, cloud-filled sky. I had to walk with my two bare feet through the dunes and explore all the nooks and crannies.



There was a bunch of drift wood speckling the landscape. You could easily use them to build a little dug out shelter. I continued walking, up the dunes this time, and into all the bushes at the tops of the hills.





There were a number of secrets. Little groves of bushes that almost formed an organic grotto that you could peak out of and stare across the dunes. There was also a clump of three trees with branches that hung down, and they formed a sort of hut. The area had even been lined with rocks by a previous traveler, and there were perfect branches to sit on.

I of course explored the area with bare feet and open shirt, and my goodness it felt amazing. It felt so right to be so open and intimate with nature.
I briefly returned to camp, but then got bored and continued hiking along the dunes. When I returned again, my parents had apparently driven to and from the hotel. They had bought sandwiches to eat.

We also prepared a bowl of ramen noodles with tomatoes, corn, and spinach using the Supercat alcohol stove.

It was very delicious. As we ate, this guy was watching us keenly, just sitting up in a branch the whole time. I fed him some cashews.















After eating, we all went to this trailhead that led up some wooden stairs and to a trail that sloped along a sandy, forested hill. It was beautiful. The sandy soil and the birch trees gave off a bright, earthy vibe.







We hiked up and down the hill, and my dad stopped often to point out some natural phenomena, like an insect egg in a plant or some fungi. There were lots of birches, pines, and oak trees. As we hiked, we looked for good sticks for firewood. And at one point, after coming down the opposite slope of the hill, the forest opened up to a little grassy prairie-like landscape. The sudden openness of the place was refreshing but mysterious. It felt like some ancient land full of magic.



This open area eventually connected to the main dunes. We walked back through a forest though and crossed a road into another forest. We hiked on a little trail until we got back to the camp.

We went to watch the sunset, which was absolutely beautiful.





We made a fire and toasted some marshmallows, which my parents enjoyed. After this, they left, and Bryan and I ate a bit more.



Well, after this my camera broke. It had been acting up as we watched the sunset (sand seemed to have gotten into it). And you know, right as this happened, the clouds cleared and all the stars came out, and you could even see a faint but nonetheless distinct milky way in the sky. I was breath taken. The absolute infinite expanse of the stars, with the glory of the milky way, was amazing.

Bryan and I walked out to the dunes to lie in the sand, endure the cold wind, and gaze at the stars. Some thoughts on this: I wondered if my camera breaking was actually a good thing; it helped me to remember the stars in the moment, rather than obsess over capturing them on camera. I had thought about this while taking pictures of the sunset. Yet, at the same time, I wish I had been able to photograph the stars; the Milky Way is such a rare wonder these days.

And you know, as we lied there stargazing, Bryan eventually started talking about ordinary things like videogames. I suppose the Milky Way was still too faint to capture his wonder. And of course, society's forces on one's mind are powerful. But isn't it weird that we've taken away the milky way from our own skies? I do not think it has made the Milky Way more magical by making it rarer. I think it has only taken wonder away from those who desperately need it. Granted, I was desperate to photograph it because it was so rare, but only because I would not be able to enjoy it in real life each night with the new or crescent moon.

The sun sets every night, yet never fails to amaze me.

We headed to bed. During the night I woke up from the cold and discomfort a few times (the rocks I left in my pockets didn't help). I shifted positions quite a bit.

Bryan and I awoke at about ten, and we started a fire from the previous coals and had hotdogs (cheese-filled jalepeno dogs. I had to give up my vegetarianism for this. BUT! I will say, no matter what the nay-sayers say, vegan sausage/hotdogs taste JUST AS GOOD. Anyone who says otherwise is simply not hungry enough and too greedy.)

We headed to the beach and ran. Bryan did sprint intervals, while I jogged about 2 miles down and back the beach. It was very fun, jumping over the water, avoiding the rocks, and running through the soft seaweed that had washed ashore. My parents arrived as I finished jogging (which felt fantastic!). We walked for a while and then came back to make a fire.

I had what I thought to be cedar bark (it was from the pines there), which i had heard makes good tinder. It must not have been the right kind, however, because even after I ground it up into a dry, fluffy powder and mixed it with magnesium, the sparks from my flint would not catch.

However, a sheet of birch bark, completely unaltered other than some magnesium scraps, INSTANTLY caught my spark and gracefully lit up. I had so much fun wandering around the campsites in my bare feet, looking for firewood and tinder, and gathering it with my knife. I carefully took small strips of birch bark off multiple trees, careful to leave plenty of bark to supply the tree with life.

We had noodles and baked beans with my parents, and after that they left. It was a bit sunnier this morning, and Bryan and I hiked through the forested hill path again. I went barefoot this time, and it felt so liberating and wonderful.

We watched as some campers pulled in, but for some reason did not talk to them. If I remember correctly, I hiked around on the beach some more, and Bryan and I chilled about at the campsite.

Later, my parents returned to watch the sunset with us. It was absolutely beautiful, like a portal into a Japanese painting. The clouds looked as though they had been dipped in pink fire, swirling around in such a mysterious but majestic manner.

We sat for a long time watching, and Bryan and I sang Trevor Hall's Unity while he strummed the guitar. It was a great time. We headed back to the campsite and had hotdogs and marshmallows. My parents left eventually, and unfortunately the sky clouded up again. We were going to call them if it ever cleared up, but unfortunately it did not.

The next morning, I started a fire using birch bark and last night's embers to warm both of us up as we packed.

After packing, we returned to the hotel for breakfast. The lady working there was extremely nice and talkative, as I so wish more people could be. I wonder, is she that way to stay human during her job? Stay Human...








Some Beachy Treasures


Well, that was the end of the camping trip. But that day, we still wandered around the town quite a bit. We saw lighthouses, restaurants, art galleries, and more. Thinking back, I am very surprised at how much we did and saw on that last day. It is interesting, this town Petoskey. It is full of people and ideas which sometimes sicken me and at other times fill me with hope.

For example, we were in a very bourgie part of town, with buildings most would regard as idyllic. There were clothing shops full of stereotypical rich-man sailor style clothes. The kind with the nerdy slacks and the polo shirt with the sweater wrapped around the neck. Seriously.

But worse than the expensive and untasteful clothes was this: A leather case that was designed to hold two cigars. Do you know how much it costed? How much should something like that cost? Ten dollars? Fifteen? Twenty? This damn thing costed NINETY-EIGHT DOLLARS. Think about this for a moment. Someone who buys this is willing to spend MORE MONEY to give shelter and security to his CIGARS than he is to help a man on the streets! Perhaps I overgeneralize, but when the wealthiest of this nation fight so hard to prevent their tax cuts from expiring, how can I think anything else?

Yet at the same time, as we went all around town looking for the famous Petoskey Stone, at one point my dad and I were climbing about on a limestone cliff on the side of the road. We found some fossils, when suddenly a truck slowed to a stop near us. I thought someone was going to yell at us for climbing the cliffs. But no, this man got out and started talking to us about the stones. He happily opened up the back of his truck for us and showed us a giant Petoskey Stone he had found, and told us about how he likes to sell them to support himself. He told us where he found some good specimens. This is how people should be: open, unjudgemental, friendly, and willing to talk to strangers.

In the original Adventure Archives I wrote for this trip, my last sentence simply states: "We can learn a lot about what to and what not to do from these people."