Ran up to Kingsley Thursday for a quick overnight camp. I thought I might kayak and do some fishing but it was windy and I was lazy -I never even took the boat off the truck.

Amy came up after work with some sandwiches and went home shortly after dinner. Jason came up for a drink. He stayed late drinking and talking around the campfire.

After Jason left I puttered around camp in the dark, setting up my bunk and getting ready for bed. By the time I had my bed made and finished a nightcap, it was o’drunk-thirty.

I woke at six, lit the propane firepit inside the tipi and hung the tea kettle above the flames. I sat by the fire in a stupor listening to the ravens argue and let consciousness struggle to the surface. Eventually I became functional enough to fry some bacon and eggs for breakfast.

The lake was flat and calm, but the effort required to unload the kayak was more than I could muster. Instead I spent the morning sleeping in my camp chair, waking occasionally to move it out of the shadows as the sun made its transit through the trees.

Peter showed up around two; his family had planned a camp on the lake for the weekend so I surrendered my campsite to him, packed up and headed home, still tired but somehow refreshed by my brief sojourn in the mountains.