I cannot be sure, but I am either bringing far, far too much, or slightly less than necessary. We are driving to Oregon, and camping enroute. Along the way we will have four nights in a tent, four nights in new places, four nights sleeping on a pad, on the ground, a distance from bathrooms. And we will be making our dinners and breakfasts, some of them at least, over a camp stove. Oh, yes... then our time there, in a tent, and our drive home will be camping, too. Anyway, I am pretty sure I am bringing just what we need, but possibly little of good use at all. It's hard to tell.
Do I really need two different balsamic flavors? They fit in the box, so why not? And imagine all the fresh produce we'll be passing on our journey, all the fruit stands, and organic farms... a splash of raspberry balsamic, a drizzle of olive oil, and we feast. Food is fabulous around a campfire. Good food around a campfire is beyond fabulous. Do you know what's light, refreshing, and fun? A shot of Pear-Cranberry balsamic over ice, with sparkling water. What can I say? I do like yummy things... I've certainly confessed this road-trip food love affair, before!
Spices and seasonings
Cups! And a can opener! I'm still working on this. Glad I checked. Must add.
I was remembering the last time we were preparing for a big camp adventure and it kind of shocks me to realize that was seven years ago. We've done some camping, more recently, but I'm not counting anything in our own county. This is about distant lands, redwoods, Humboldt Fog Cheese, leaving the state, getting bugs on the bumper. The last time we made lists and packed for any foreseeable needs on the road, Geoff helped me understand my own wanderlust, and like that time, he's staying behind while I go in search of adventure with the children. Before we roll out of the driveway, I will ask him to please read the poem he found for me...
"I am a part of all that I have met.
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!"
--Ulysses, by Alfred Tennyson
What is it about leaving home, making believe that our van is a covered wagon, our supplies made to last the journey, however long, and the roads, perhaps, are all but abandoned? Something primal, feelings instinctive capture my imagination, and the calculations of miles, meals, resources, tools, and preparedness make me giddy. Anything can happen! We will see beautiful places, familiar places, and altogether new things, too. I love those familiar places, and new things. I love camping, finding little treasures, singing in the car, eating farm stand strawberries for lunch, reading aloud in near darkness. I love that I can take as much pleasure anticipating what lies ahead, as I will in the middle of the journey. I love that my careful planning will be met with the unforeseen, and we will find new roads, and other ways.
I love that the last time we packed this purple camp box, we were different... we were younger, we were waiting on other dreams to come true, we had other skills, other ideas. Maria was so small, she bathed in the purple camp box! It was a time when the future... colleges, driver's licenses, growing up, felt a very far off future. So much has changed. We have our own home now, and new schools, new plans, separate plans. Maybe I hope that revisiting those familiar places will connect us to the common ground that was so much easier to share when the children were small, when objectives seemed closer at hand. Like visiting an old family home, or hometown, this trip feels like being in touch with our roots, the memories we each hold, and recall fondly. It's still us, though, and we bring those old memories, as well as our new dreams and ideas with us. I know... I am getting muddly in my deep thoughts and other musings, but I think it will serve my patience and enthusiasm when we are in 90 degree heat, facing traffic, and tired of baked beans! I'm only bringing one can of baked beans... I should, maybe add one more can?