I went camping this weekend. Fall camping. I went with a friend who assured me that fall camping was the best, extraordinary actually: no bugs, scenic foliage, chilly nights, etc. So we packed the gear up and went to North-South Lake in the Catskills ( a fantastic campground, by the way: spectacular views- see left-, great amenities, and great hiking). We got there at 2, set up camp, started a fire, and settled in for our great escape weekend. Of course, you guessed it- it rained. It rained from 11 pm on Saturday night through the night on Sunday into Monday. A real soaker. We left Sunday night, so I'm speculating on the whole rain through Monday thing, but I'm pretty sure the rain in Albany was consistent with the rain in the Catskills.Now I thought that the whole "wash out" experience would really, pardon the pun, dampen the experience, but I was pleasantly surprised to find out that rain, while making everything a bit more difficult, soggy, and muddy, really had no bearing on the experience we had. Sure we huddled under the netted camping enclosure, playing Scrabble on the picnic table, sure we ate more than we ever do, sure we worked harder at sustaining a fire in the drenching rain than either of us ever has, sure we slept later on Sunday morning than either of us has in ages: it just didn't matter. Because, when it was all said and done, we had a moment frozen in time, a reserved second just for us amid the soggy pines where time didn't seem to be flying by at breakneck speed, where emails and text messages just couldn't penetrate the no cell coverage zone we were blissfully concealed in. It was a great experience, highlighted by the following moment among many:
It was later in the day Saturday, before the rain came. Before dinner we hiked off to explore the camp ground, dusk just starting to peek through the pines as we assessed the other camp sites. As we turned down into the loop of sites closest to the lake, we thought we had found THE site: great, level area, view of the lake, close access to the bathrooms (essential for those 3am runs!). Mentally taking note of the lot number, we moved on through the loop, fully expecting to return to our site and eat. Rounding the corner, we found an empty site whose view of the lake was equally gorgeous to our previous favorite, except this one had a little trail apparently running down to the lake. Making sure we weren't intruding- the bikers on the previous lot were too busy cranking up Lynrd Skynrd, and the old folks on the next site were distracted with their lawn chairs and parkas to notice anything- we slipped through the site and down the path. It emptied onto a wide rock shelf that rimmed the lake's whole lower shore. The water lapped up over the edges in gently cascading sheets, and the tall grasses in the shallows swayed in the wind. We watched the gray clouds stream by, swirling across the horizon, dipping down to create two levels of iron colored sky- the lower wispy and light, like strands of some immense web, hovering below the impassable and inscrutable darkness above. We stayed there, exploring the shoreline, talking about the possibilities of staying on this spot with its private access to the water, for at least fifteen minutes, just soaking in that particular moment, the intersection of nature and us and our borrowed juncture of time. But then the clouds swirled a bit too low, the chill came back into the air, and we knew it was time to return to camp and the fire and dinner that awaited there. We knew it would rain, although not how much, but we didn't care. For that moment, everything else melted away. What a magical gift. Aglow with this discovery, we slipped back up towards our camp, and the night that would soon swallow us up.
It was a magical time, and one that we all need as the pressures build. Sometimes it's the smallest moments that remind us of who we are, what we stand for, and what we hope to accomplish with the time we have been allotted. Yeah, fall camping, even in the rain, was pretty special.
Oh, by the way, the picture above isn't mine. I did borrow a really good camera for the trip, fully expecting to be taking lots of foliage and landscape pics, but the rain precluded me from even taking the camera out and risking its damage, so when I sat down to do this entry I had no picture to showcase the beauty of the lake. I was stuck. The picture above is by fellow Flickr photographer Ben Perry (his work can be found here) who just happened to capture the view we found in the above story. Good shot, Ben. Next time I'll risk it and break out my camera...
