360 Days
What is the best way to celebrate Pride Month in Washington? Book week-of tickets to a Brandi Carlile concert at The Gorge and bask in the harmonizations of I'm With Her, the Indigo Girls (icons), Maren Morris and Sara Bareilles. The concert ended after midnight on Friday—middle-aged people can rage—and I was cuddled in my tent at 2am.
My friend stayed in her Scout truck camper and I brought my two-person Slingfin (Berkeley brand) tent. The nights were colder than expected since we camped near water, but I had warm layers and a borrowed Snuggie to fend off the chill. We enjoyed a slow morning sipping coffee alongside a breakfast of hashbrowns, English muffins with gooseberry jam and sunnyside up eggs.
The truck camper felt luxurious compared to my usual dirtbag accommodations of a tent, camp stove and Helinox ultralight chair. Yet I did miss the direct contact with nature I often crave when I'm enclosed indoors. I get a trapped feeling when a wall separates me from the sun's rays. Nonetheless, the truck camper experience affirmed that I can absolutely live in one and have all the creature comforts of home.
We camped next to a river on Saturday. The rivers in Washington are rocky-bottomed. On a sunny day it's mesmerizing to watch the light turquoise water rushing over the stones. I sat on a log and journaled on Sunday morning. I revel in nature as my only entertainment. My anxiety doesn't exist outdoors.
On Sunday, we hiked to a lake haloed in mountains. I brought my binoculars and was spotting birds left and right. I also spotted a few doggies across the lake and considered swimming across the frigid water to greet them. The pine floral scent of the trail gave me future nostalgia. I knew the Sunday hours between me and a 7am Monday flight were dwindling. Alas, I returned to society and am toiling away in the Bay Area. "Making hay while the start ups raise", as the old adage goes.
My hotel has a bird's eye view of the highway. Instead of sun glittering off the water, I see white lines shimmering under rubber tires. The low thrum of street noise drowns out all birdsong. My body is here working and my heart elsewhere in the trees.
