Tonight I write quickly because my fingers are cold and the computer battery dies.
A quiet, remote recreation area in Central New Mexico, my camping local is far from primitive. In fact, the word luxurious has been tossing around in my head for the past 45 minutes. At my disposal are a covered picnic table, trash can, and nearby car.
A crisp breeze, 30ish temperature, and partly overcast skies have me content, as I know that a wet camp is mostly out of the picture for tomorrow morning. Because of this guess and the fact that I have a small pavilion, I opt not to pitch a tent. My camping philosophy has always been fairly minimal.
Dinner is simple but delicious. A bed of slightly undercooked rice (I didn’t compensate extra water for the high elevation), basil, and olive oil are complemented by a few slices of beef jerky. Instead of washing dishes, I add water to my eating bowl and bring it to a boil, thereby killing the germs and providing me with hot water for tea (with a few leftover rice pieces floating about).
I have often found that while on camping trips by myself I easily become uncomfortable with the silence and lack of human interaction. Most of us are not very familiar with the plants and animals of our wilder landscapes, and this can bring about a certain kind of culture shock. And yet, sitting out here with the sage and cholla brings on a peaceful feeling inside me. There is a beautiful calm in the desert unavailable in the city or even much of rural Arkansas with its barking dogs and wind in the trees. Perhaps I am finally beginning to make my peace with Mother Nature and learning to see her as a friend rather than the tough adversary portrayed in our society and media.
Tomorrow I drive all day, with the goal of making it to somewhere up in Utah. That’s all for now. Much I would like to write, but my mind is tired.