My brother Andy, my friend Jason, and I all had our birthdays within a week of each other. Obviously, a birthday camping trip was in order.

It would take some effort to work out the logistics. Jason is employed at an orthopedic clinic, with weekends off. Weekends are Andy’s busiest days as pastor at Bethel Congregational in White Salmon. I am happily retired, free as a bird.

With the woods so crowded in the summer, it seemed prudent to select a remote destination and establish camp midweek to avoid disappointment and future regret. Jason had discovered an old elk camp, well off the beaten path, that looked pretty nice. As an added bonus it had a homemade, fully functional outhouse a short distance behind the camp. Plans were made, dates were set and provisions laid by.

Day 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We got a late start Thursday, but Walter Dawg and I managed get to camp around 2:00. A shattered tree top, probably snapped off during a past storm, lay right where I wanted to set up my tipi. I cut it up, removing the larger limbs and dragging them out of the way, making a brush pile at the edge of camp.  It was a hot day.  Sweat ran down my face and my glasses kept sliding off my nose as I finished sectioning the log and stacking the wood by the fire pit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was resting in the shade when Andy showed up a little later, just in time to help me set up our tipis. We put them up side by side, facing east. Andy’s lodge had a large gap around the bottom. We should have taken it down and tied the poles a little lower, but it was hot and likely to stay that way over the next several days, so we didn’t bother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jason showed up after work and set up his tipi behind Andy’s, at the back of the clearing. He stayed for dinner, but went back to town afterward – poor guy had to work Friday. We had Sloppy Joe’s for dinner and some leftover birthday rhubarb pie with strawberry ice cream for dessert.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because it was so dry, wood fires were prohibited. All our cooking was done on a gas stove. We had a propane campfire as well, and propane fire pits for each of the tipis. We missed the smell of woodsmoke, but still enjoyed the comforting glow against the dark backdrop of looming trees, staring mesmerized at the flicker of flames late into the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friday morning we broke our fast with biscuits and wild mushroom gravy made from chanterelles I’d collected the day before on my way to camp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later, we finished the last of the pie and ice cream for lunch, then I had to leave for town. Amy and I were meeting my middle brother Dave and his wife Kel to catch a blues show at a wine festival in Vancouver that evening. David would ride with me back to camp the next day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Andy spent the afternoon being bushcrafty, in between writing a sermon for Sunday and napping in the sun.  Selecting three long straight sticks from the fallen branches littering the surrounding forest, he built a tripod to hang the teapot over the fire pit. Then he squared away the kitchen, lashing together a table, making a handwashing station, and stringing a tarp to shade the cooking area.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His solitude ended when Jason arrived around dinner time. Using a couple of cast iron skillets to improvise an oven, they cooked a pizza for dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 3

 

Andrew and Jason started the morning with scrambled eggs and chanterelles for breakfast.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back at home, I had a soak in the hot tub before I picked up brother Dave. We stopped at the store to purchase birthday cake, more ice cream and some dry ice, before driving up to camp. We also did a little foraging on our way in and found both white and yellow chanterelles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Andy and J had the camp tidy and well sorted when we arrived. It was a lazy afternoon spent drinking, sharing stories, and moving our chairs occasionally to stay in the shade.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday evening was our big birthday diner: steak and wild mushrooms, boiled potatoes, grilled zucchini. We had chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream for dessert.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Andy left soon after eating, promising to return the next day when he had finished preaching. Jason, Dave and I sipped whiskey and watched the stars wink through the tall trees until our eyes got heavy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 4

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jason, Dave, and I awoke to a pleasant morning. It was 54f (12.2c). We fired up the propane and made coffee and tea. After getting sufficiently caffeinated, we went for a walk while it was still cool. We hiked up a nearby road which climbed the hill behind camp. The road was little traveled and in poor repair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This section of woods consisted of older trees with many dead and decaying snags. Huge stumps bore witness to early logging in the area. We wandered into the forest looking for mushrooms but did not find anything edible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After exploring for about an hour we decided to return to camp. We bushwhacked straight down the hill in search of a second road which, if we succeeded in finding it, would put us near camp. We spread out, looking for an open path between the brush and downed trees. Walter ranged between us, his white fur bright as he wove between the dark pines and bobbed over fallen logs, bushy tail curled over his back and waving like a flag.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Following a short thrash through the undergrowth, we did indeed find the road and soon arrived in camp. It was nearly noon by the time we got back. We were hungry campers so I set about making pancakes, stirring up a cornmeal batter and boiling down some blackberries with brown sugar and water to make syrup. We had breakfast for lunch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Andy showed up around two, claiming his sermon was well received and his parishioners were glad to see him go – or words to that effect.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The temperature had climbed to 94F (34.4C), so we finished off the ice cream and cake. After our snack Jason started taking down his lodge. Work beckoned on Monday, and he wanted to get home to spend some time with his wife.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was packed and pulling out by 4:00, leaving the three brothers to spend the evening in shared memories and dissipation. Andy got out the cocktail shaker, some Irish whiskey, Shanky’s Whip, ice, and a lemon. It was Sunday, and a preacher’s work is never done.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 5

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Come 7:30 Monday morning, we were up and sitting by the fire sipping tea and coffee, slowly waking up. Upon conferring, a consensus was reached: there was no hurry to get home. We decided to do some exploring in the morning, then strike camp and pack, planning to stop on our way out to do some more foraging.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walking up the road that had been our return route on our previous excursion, we ascertained it dead ended not far above where we’d picked it up bushwhacking Sunday morning. Afterwards we went back down to the main spur and followed it out to the creek. There we struck out upstream, going north into the woods. It was dense older second-growth, dark and free of understory. A raven glided throughthe tall trees, wings almost brushing their furrowed bark as it passed. Circling west, we worked our way up a hill and into the sunlight, eventually emerging back at the spur once again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Following the rutted track back to camp, we paused for some water, then continued down the spur back to the main forest service road. A short walk brought us to the trail into the old Pistol Creek camp. Andy collected some chicken of the woods from a stump along the way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We found the vacant campsite just as we had abandoned it several years ago: the poles stacked in the meadow, a pile of firewood covered with bark to shield it from rain, everything in readiness for our return. Next we pushed through the salmon berry thickets to the creek, where Walter enjoyed splashing in the water and cooling off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenly realizing we were hungry, we retraced our steps to camp for a repast of bacon, eggs, and fried chicken of the woods.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It took us most of the afternoon to get packed and on the road. Even so, we managed to squeeze in another mushroom hunt. I found some lobster mushrooms, but they were too far gone to pick. However, we did collect some nice chanterelles, so it wasn’t a wasted effort.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My brothers followed me home and helped me unload the truck and stack the tipi poles. We were dirty and sweaty, sorry it was over and glad to be home. Perfect.