The world's a complicated place, no doubt about it. And things don't appear to be getting any simpler.
My wife can hardly watch the news anymore and while I'm a professed news-junkie there are days I can understand where she's coming from.
For me, my escape from the world with a capital "W" is more often than not found in the great outdoors - usually high in the mountains or far back in the woods. Places my wife refers to as 'the middle of nowhere' but I'll take the 'middle of nowhere' over 'somewhere' most any day of the week.
I don't get the chance to visit the 'middle of nowhere' as frequently as I would like and generally find myself 'somewhere' along with tens, hundreds, or thousands of my fellow human beings. Not one for crowds, I chafe when surrounded by people. I've never been lonely out in 'the middle of nowhere' but let me tell you I've felt alone in a crowd more times than I can count.
It's getting tough, at least in Colorado, to seek out and find the 'middle of nowhere'. Traffic on our major mountain corridor - Interstate 70 - is now as busy on weekdays as it used to be on weekends just a year or two ago and I-70 now is a 'somewhere' I'd rather not be. I drove down to Denver along I-70 this morning from the 'middle of nowhere' after spending a couple of days camping with my wife and two pooches. My apologies in advance for not telling you exactly where this 'middle of nowhere' is because if I told you it would suddenly be 'somewhere' and there are too few places like it remaining.
By contrast, I was up mountain biking a week ago with my wife on the road that starts at Clear Creek Reservoir just south of Twin Lakes. It winds and climbs to the old mining towns of Vicksburg and Winfield. Its a rough dirt road full of potholes and rocky sections but offers some beautiful scenery. This road is now definitely 'somewhere' and even in the middle of the week there was a steady stream of campers and RV's bouncing up over the rocks and through the dust to boondock in spots where signs of the previous human occupants was in more than abundant evidence. All that toilet paper that folks have been hoarding during the pandemic? I swear most of it has ended up in our national forests and campgrounds. Definitely not the 'middle of nowhere'. So again, apologies for not identifying my 'middle of nowhere', but suffice it to say I never saw a quilted piece of two-ply lying on the ground.
When I was growing up one went through an evolution as a camper. As a wee little tyke I roughed it in a pup tent in the wooly wilds of our backyard. From there I graduated to camping in the real woods with my parents - car camping with just a tent, stove, and sleeping bags. Tents back then weren't very good and the likelihood of returning home soaked and/or frozen were high but that was all part of the adventure. When I got married I took my new bride camping 'somewhere' in the Indian Peaks wilderness (not so much wilderness anymore) to introduce her to the joys of sleeping in a sodden sleeping bag while the rain banged on the not-so-waterproof fabric of the tent. To her credit she helped me quickly (VERY quickly) evolve to the next level of camping featuring a 'real' (and at the time very expensive) dome tent from the good folks at REI.
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A new level of
Pack it In/Pack it Out |
Still, we were sleeping on the good hard ground, albeit on fancy new inflatable camping pads, but I could still get that sensation of sloshing around in a wet sleeping bag whenever I forgot, or opted not, to put the now-actually-waterproof fly on the tent. As we got older and the ground seemed to get harder my camping evolution continued (thank you honey!) and we graduated to a pop-up camper which took us to Alaska (now there's the real 'middle of nowhere') and back and this summer we went to the Tetons in an - can I bring myself to say it? - RV. Its really, really hard to experience that wet, frozen sensation of camping outside in the elements when ensconced in a Travel Trailer or Fifth Wheel, but hey, for the sake of marital harmony I'm willing to make that sacrifice.
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| A view from our tent |
Some of you may have gone through a similar evolution regarding all the comfort and joy that Mother Nature can bestow upon us (what would camping at Lake Dillon on Memorial Day be without a little spring snow to make it memorable?). The younger generations are either much wiser, or willing to miss out on all this bliss as many, if not most, seem to have gone straight to the RV in lieu of the traditional fabric and pole shelters of their parents. American Express's slogan of
"Don't leave home without it" seems to have carried over into this brave new world of RV camping (an oxymoron if ever there was one) as big screen T.V.'s, fancy barbeque grills, and rocking chairs all come along for a sojourn under the stars. In campgrounds nowadays RV's outnumber tents 10 to 1 and instead of listening to the pitter-pat of rain gently falling on the tent you're more likely to hear the rumble of generators powering up to catch the big game on the Big Screen.
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| The 'Middle of Nowhere' |
Now all of this is well and good and is simply evidence of how far we've all come over the years. But still, there are times (many, many times) I yearn for getting back to the basics. Instead of loading up and hitching up a rolling behemoth simply throwing two sleeping bags and a tent into the car and heading off to find, once more, the 'middle of nowhere'. For two days and nights I got the chance to do just that. And yes, the ground is as hard as it ever was, and oh my, did it feel good...
