I hadn’t been camping since the Outhouse Camp in August. I floated the idea of an excursion among the usual suspects and was met with a generally favorable response. Plans were made, provisions were purchased and the truck was packed.
Bruce had told me about an idyllic meadow up an abandoned road I had never explored. His directions were less than clear. He had given Mike more unreliable information, some of it contradictory. Between the two of us we narrowed it down to about a ten mile radius just north of Willard.
Mike and I headed north, in search of someplace we had not camped before. Eventually we settled on this little dead end spur on Cabbage Creek. It didn’t resemble Bruce’s meadow not the description nor the directions, but it was idyllic.
It put us right on the creek. There was an old fire ring and an open flat place almost large enough for the tipi.
While Mike drove back to get a cell signal so he could give Jason directions, I set up the tipi.
We heated garlic bread in the Dutch oven, popped a beer and waited for Jason to arrive. He got there as the light leaked out of the day and we had hot soup from the thermos and bread fresh from the oven for dinner.
After dinner Mike and I left Jason to keep company with the bears. I needed to finish packing for the week, but we would be back up the next day.
Saturday morning I enjoyed my tea in the hot tub before I finished packing and headed back to camp.
I arrived at camp a little before 2:00 and was pleased to find Jason had not been eaten by bears. We kindled a fire and I unpacked the truck, getting things squared away.
Jason dug a latrine and lashed up a rail while I was getting set up in camp.
Mike and Bruce showed up so we got out the flintlock and did a little shooting.
Light left the narrow canyon early. We put the guns away. Mike and Bruce headed home leaving Jason and I to turn our attention to dinner.
We put the rest of the garlic bread in the Dutch oven to warm and hung a pot of split pea soup over the flames.
We had a late dinner, but it was worth the wait.
We stayed up drinking and talking. Eventually we put out the lamps and brought the fire inside the tipi. The day was done.
It was a cold morning Sunday, and still dark when I got up to have a bounce on the latrine rail. My next priority was to get a fire started.
Walter and Jason were still snoring in the lodge when I put the tea on.
When Walter got up I fed him and made myself some oatmeal for breakfast. After breakfast I bade Jason goodbye. He had to go to work Monday and would leave around noon; I had to run into town to meet Robert and bring him back to camp.
On our way back to camp Robert and I met Jason going home. He was doing the same thing we were: foraging mushrooms along the road. Rob and I collected enough chanterelles for several meals before continuing on to Cabbage Creek.
Andy joined us when he got done with church. We sat around the fire and visited.
It was a splendid day to be in the woods.
This is really just about as nice as it gets.
We had some trouble with the gas stove so I ended up doing all the cooking over the fire.
Robert keeping an eye on the biscuits.
Carbonara with fresh lobster mushrooms and hot biscuits for dinner.
enjoying Sunday dinner by firelight.
To sleep, perchance to dream.
I slept late Monday morning but still managed to rise well before Robert or Andy. It wasn’t too cold, 38F (3.3C) at 7:30.
Drinking tea and warming my toes by the fire.
Walter Dawg
Old farts counting out their morning pills.
Robert did the dishes before breakfast.
I was going to make biscuits and gravy but I forgot the flour so we had biscuits and mushroom scramble instead.
Hot buttered biscuits, scrambled eggs with wild mushrooms, washed down with sweet apple cider.
It was a late breakfast, perhaps more properly a brunch.
Breakfast finished and dishes done, we gathered firewood and attended to camp chores.
We got the guns out Monday afternoon.
Ramming home a ball.
flash – BOOM!
“Where the hell did that one go?”
half cocked.
Robert firing the trade gun disappears behind the flash and smoke.
A split second after the gun goes off, clouds of smoke are already dissipating even as sparks still fall from the barrel. Who cares if you hit anything? This is big fun!
(You’re not kidding anyone.)
After the weapons were cleaned and safely stowed, I washed my hands and started cooking.
Mike joined us for dinner.
Lamb-kabobs with chanterelles and dried peaches.
Keeping close to the fire as the shadows gather and daylight flees the night.
Andy had to go home Monday night. The full moon illuminated his drive through the deep, dark forest.
My brother took this photo of the lights of Hood River from Underwood bluff on his drive home.
Robert staring into the fire.
Eventually it became obvious, even to me, that it was past time to go to bed.
The sun touched the canyon Tuesday morning around 7:30. The logging show over on Oklahoma started making noise again about an hour earlier.
I listened to the whistles and the thumps of heavy machinery as I drank my tea. Later the chainsaws started up, adding a high pitched whine to the cacophony.
By 10:30 or so, they were done.
Git outta the way Old Dan Tucker…
….supper done and breakfast cookin’.
Mushroom omelet, baguette, and fried bacon.
Ever vigilant.
Robert’s bushcrafty hair tie tongs.
Heating dish water.
We had a restful morning with the camp to ourselves.
We did a little plinking with the 1860 Army Tuesday afternoon.
It was a right comfortable camp. Snug and secluded and convenient to water.
Mike and Bruce showed up later in the day. We sat around the fire chatting while Robert practiced with his slingshot.
Robert made pulled pork sandwiches for dinner.
Pulled pork with bourbon BBQ sauce on a toasted bun, topped with slaw.
Bruce left before dinner, but Michael is smarter than that – he stayed the night.
shadows gathering
The tipi beckons.
The curse and the blessing of an old man’s bladder. I was up several times in what are most appropriately termed the wee hours and enjoyed the ethereal light of a full moon painting the forest with a silvery glow.
Bladder empty, I had finally drifted off into a deep and dreamless slumber when I was rudely awakened by something cold, damp and slimy landing on my cheek. I sat bolt upright and slapped it across the tipi. It was a frog! I tried to get its picture but the little bastard hopped under Robert’s cot.
Wednesday was our last morning in camp.
Robert using a flip iron to reheat his coffee.
Mike spent the night in the back of his car.
Robert had a long drive to get home so we sent him on his way after breakfast.
Mike and I finished striking camp and packing up.
Mike checking the fire is completely out.
Heading home.
Another camping trip brought to a successful conclusion.
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