We camp every fall in a valley southeast of where we live.
Cold, goldenrod trees against bruised sky.
No cell service, continually stoked campfire.
Everywhere to explore.
Brown trout dancing up river, fat bodies leaping up high to help shake eggs into the frigid water. All day, all night: plop, thunk, splash as their bodies reenter the current.
Our arrival, just as the sun set. A baby moose walking along the bank. Careful, be slow the mamas say to the excited kids who sit on knees across the river from the moose. The mamas know the moose mama was one of the tree shadows. The mamas watch and wait as one of those shadows stirs and slunks into the crimson dogwood branches, baby by her side.
Shared meals made on camp stoves. Mama, where are my mittens? Easy, early campfire conversations about Halloween costumes, dogs and canning recipes. Spirited, late campfire conversations about ebola, gun control and taxes. Dada, can I please have one more s’more?
Morning air that shows breath, thick and cold. Hard to get out of sleeping bags so we stay a little bit longer and hope someone else is up making a fire. The men rise and leave for the fishing hole, before the moonlight gives into the sunlight. Nobody else is making a fire. So we do it. We can’t wait for the glory of that heat.
The kids play hard. The van is a ship, the snag is a castle, the cubby between the willows is a fairy classroom, the camper a space ship.
We love coffee.
A storm tumbles up the river. The sky is cement and then navy and then graphite. Kids and dogs wait in tents, giggling at the cozy drama. Aspen leaves rain as the grown ups grab and throw everything in the cars, stake down tents. We drive to a restaurant for dinner. It passes quickly into liquid onyx.
^ from our tent, slow shutter speed in the middle of the night ^
The second night is a few degrees warmer. I fall asleep with the kids after reading two chapters of Little House on Silver Lake. Hours later I wake to a loud rumble. A gallop, I decide. A big animal, I am certain. It rushes past the tent and I make sure I am really awake. I listen. I hear my heart in my ears. I peek out the tiny side window and in perfect foggy silhouette against our neighbor’s camper is a bull moose. He stands as tall as the camper. He stands still to make sure I can really see him. I wake Andy. We watch as he silently slips into the night. It makes a good story the next morning, many times. Tell us again mama!
I tell it again. Again. We squeeze a last few things out of this place and pack up. Say goodbye to friends. I wish we could stay for a few more days. We head toward the highway and our phones ding with missed texts and voicemails. I again have access to shop sales, emails, instagram. I resist it for a while, treasuring the simplicity of not having that access, allowing myself to ease back into those responsibilities. I remember I felt anxious, wound-tight when we left. I remember to feel thankful for this reset, for my softened headspace.
Getting out, looking up and breathing in. A river’s wake, an owl’s song. Campfire warmed faces, pajamaed bike rides. Fish stories, deeper laugh lines each October. New puppies, kids and old dogs. The adults are in the middle somewhere, on this life span, tending to it all, making space for the tending. Making space for space.
23 Comments
We love camping too – for all the same reasons.
I feel that anxiety as we leave cell reception on the way there, but I never turn my phone back on until we’re home … we’re still AWAY until we pull up outside our house.
Those last few lines struck deep. Adults in the middle somewhere, making space for space …
Good idea! To just keep it off until the driveway. Maybe even until the car is unloaded… 🙂
Damn, Dig. Good stuff. Good writing.
Beautiful, Nici!
We were in Idaho this past weekend…just over Lolo Pass from Missoula. Some of the same feelings and experiences were shared across borders. We DID stay an extra night…we almost always do. Next year we will plan to stay longer…on purpose. I came home centered…I always do when we visit there.
Thanks for sharing your trip…it sounds like it was just perfect.
xoxo-
Steph
So lovely. That first pic – a painting by Andy or a picture? 😉
Chills. Seriously… a few minutes later, and I still feel them. Just beautiful.
Your post always encourage me. I want to love it here, I do. I want to take my kids camping and love it, soak it up, cherish it but man, I would rather order room service. Thanks for sharing your adventures with us.
So love “living” in your adventures….xoxo
We squeeze a last few things out of this place
I love that line, and totally get it.
Soul singing. Earth grounding. Love this piece!
Beautiful photos. Wow-making writing: particularly loved, “Brown trout dancing up river, fat bodies leaping up high to help shake eggs into the frigid water. All day, all night: plop, thunk, splash as their bodies reenter the current” and your description of your ‘softened headspace’….what a WONDERFUL time you must have had. Beautiful.
Your writing is so incredibly beautiful. Reading this piece made my day.
I love how you described the ski as “cement and then navy and then graphite.” I could see and feel it. I’ve been taking a watercolor class and struggling with painting a foggy, dark, layered sky. I’m obsessed with grey right now and your words really spoke to me. Perhaps adding navy is the key! As always, enjoyed your words and images. xoxo
I love your sentence about the sky being cement, then navy and then graphite. Wonderful!
Mmmm, that MOON, though! Really captured the essence of a good fall camp out. Uncoiling off the grid is one of the greatest parts of living in Montana. Resisting the ‘plug in’ upon reentry is always a strange push/pull for me, too. I love the idea of waiting to check messages until the car is unloaded. Like in the old days when we had answering machines at home. Preserve the reset. Cherish it! P.S. Big congrats on the new store!
Oh, mama, I am so glad I read this tonight. Your words struck a chord with me as I am returning to the “real world” in what feels like slow motion. I don’t yet know how to hold on to that sacred space of being disconnected while also keeping my fingers on the people and things I want to. So far, I have just decided (1) thank goodness for camping and exploring and all the beauty you described here, and (2) keep working at finding that space in the midst of everything else. It’s there, I know it is. xoxo
That’s the challenge – the everyday balance; this is why we have to PRACTICE. Maybe this is it – that we are aware of the power in quiet, focus and simplicity so we get it for ourselves and our families. I don’t know. Or maybe there is a place where that expanse of deep calm is omnipresent, forever in us. I’ve felt it before and, man, I’d love to be there all the time! “In the midst of everything else”, as you said, is where our practice lie. Lots of distractions, some awesome and some unworthy of our attention. We will just keep getting better at choosing the best, I believe. xoxo
Nici,
This was such a beautiful post. You seem to be honing your story writing talent with every few posts. The photos are stunning, but the words stand for themselves here. So good.
Oh, you are making me so homesick for the West! Beautiful photos and beautiful words….
Oh my. I love this so much. I can SEE the bull moose. Hear the owl.
I want to plop myself right into one of those gorgeous photos. Be cozy in a tent while a storm moves through.
Thank you.
xo
Michelle
I love the way you write. Your stories are alive and real. Thanks for sharing your world.
On a very different note, I also love to see your photographs on instagram (and I don’t even have an instagram account!). You are tremendously talented. While I love the pictures of your girls, of nature, etc., I am *always* in awe of your great hair. I, too, have naturally curly, wild, and unruly hair. Would you mind sharing a bit about how you style it? Products? do you use a curling iron at all? Is it cut a certain way with layers or something to make it lay so great? Basically, I just wanna do what you do. 🙂
Oh the curly hair! High five to you. Actually, I do have information to share with you! My hair has changed COMPLETELY since I started using Deva Curl products. Also I have a kick ass hair dresser who knows how to cut so I don’t have the triangle head (I know you know what I am talking about). She introduced me to Deva Curl and I use the No Poo (and I only wash about once a week-week and a half!) and One Condition (I use this every time I shower). And then the styling cream. It’s a game changer! 🙂
So sorry for my belayed note of gratitude! Seriously, thanks for taking the time to respond and to help a curly haired, triangle-headed sister out. I have Deva Curl on order, though I strongly suspect that there’s no way I could go so long between pooing (ha). My blond hair tends to look pretty nasty after a couple of days. 🙂