Archive for October 22nd, 2008

6:06 a.m  October 18

Sleeping on the rocks of “Sid” wasn’t as bad as you might think. I didn’t have any on the back or hip, which is where it matters, and the general sensation of sleeping outside was just what it always is – turning this way and that, trying to fall back asleep, waiting for the night to end.  I did regret at some point choosing one of the lighter sleeping bags, as I was none too warm. I wrapped the mouth of the bag tight around my neck and bunched it up under my head as pillow for a simulated mummy bag.

This is probably how the guy who invented the mummy bag realized the potential: out on a camping trip, bag was 5 degrees too lightweight for the weather, he closed the mouth of the bag manually by twisting it like the top of a jelly jar, then realized this wouldn’t be a bad way to tie off a sleeping bag if you had a casing and a string running through it. 

In the Mt. Everest tent next door, there is the sound of snoring.  I realize as I listen that Dean doesn’t snore. I mean, like never. Whatever it is that causes snoring he doesn’t have it. 

Except for Scout mistress Ms. B, I am the only woman on this trip. All the kids are guys. I have to level with you: There’s a part of me that doesn’t think I should be allowed out here. Perhaps I’m like those superstitious Japanese fishermen, who think if you allow a woman on the boat, it is bad luck. But I’m here, so I’m going to go with it. 

The cicadas continue their wing-scratching action, but they’re quieter and a little slower now in the morning. Do they ever stop? I consider going out of the tent. I have heard that as early as 6, there will be coffee in the kitchen. That is a positive.

On the other hand, after a night of relative coolness, the temperature inside the tent has reached a comfortable zone. One of the givens of camping, in my book, is it will be a little bit too cool outside when you wake up. My usual way of coping is to get up and make a fire. But the camp kitchen here runs on propane. There will be no real camp fire until tonight, when a detail of scouts will dig a fire pit and line it with rocks, etc.

I am here, supposedly, to spend time with Brand, but actually, I haven’t seen him once since I parked the car at Sid. I hope he is okay. But for seeing him, really, staying home would be better. I think this might be like that quality time thing.

You know, that whole myth about you’ve got to spend “quality time” with the kids, and that means taking them somewhere interesting? I mean, yes, you’ve got to spend quality time with the kids, but it had nothing to do with the type of activity you’re on. Quality time means the quality of your interaction with them, and my best quality time that I’ve ever discovered is driving in the car.

I consider working on my novel. Then the sound of a zip comes from the snoring tent. Someone else is beating me  to the kitchen! Perhaps there’s coffee over there right now. I put off working on the novel. The story I am working on seems wrong in this context anyway. That story is a romance; this is an adventure.