Tag: camping

Fetching Water

 

Waiting for the water to boil

I headed to the creek to get a pot full of water
And tripped on a root on my way back to camp.
I staggered and stumbled but didn’t fall,
Then dropped the pot and spilled it all.

So, I turned around and headed back to the stream
And filled the pot up once again.
I set it down by the side of the creek
Then noticed it had a brand-new leak.

I realized that when I dropped the pot,
It must have hit a rock and cracked.
Since the leak was small, I decided to
Just run it back since the drops were few.

I kept my eyes on the pot as I hurried my pace,
That was a big mistake ‘cause I stubbed my toe.
I sat down and put the pot on a rock,
Then took off my shoe and bloody sock.

There wasn’t much to do but whimper and yell,
So, I put my shoe back on and resumed my chore.
I hadn’t thought to take the lid for the pot,
And it was too late when I had that thought.

When I reached down to grab the pot of water
Rocks and dirt fell in from my sleeve.
I watched in disbelief as the liquid turned,
It went from clear to cloudy, and I became concerned.

Thoughts of grit in the chocolate pudding
Mixed with visions of noodles with rocks.
I couldn’t stomach what lay in store,
If I didn’t go back to get water once more.

Once again, I went back to the creek,
And filled the pot with a new batch of water.
I’d more carefully hurry this time, I resolved,
And the fetching of water would finally be solved.

Back to the camp, I hastily walked,
Fully intent to return with a full pot of water.
Halfway back I rounded a bend,
And suddenly thought my life would end.

I was startled and threw the pot into the air
Then froze and looked down, not wanting to stare.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as a bear
Stood up and growled, giving me quite a scare.

But soon, the bear turned and headed away,
And I was spared a gruesome end.
But once again there was no water,
Although I’d avoided an ugly slaughter.

I took a moment to regain my composure,
And reconsider the task at hand.
I decided to change the plan and revamp,
If I wanted supper water at my nearby camp.

Once more I walked down to the creek,
And filled the pot again despite the leak.
Then I turned and headed back,
This time managing to stay on track.

It was still light when I got back to camp,
And I pulled another pot from my backpack.
I filled it with the water, covered it, and put it on to heat.
“Finally,” I thought, “I’m about to eat.”

While the water heated up,
I found the noodles in the bag.
Soon the liquid gently boiled,
But the water violently roiled.

The pot fell off the stove,
And the water poured onto the ground.
I pondered the scene and began to cry.
Then, soon thereafter I let out a sigh.

And so, I sat and feasted on dry noodles,
Ate chocolate powder with two pecans.
It wasn’t the meal I’d planned to eat,
But reckoned my quest for water had been a full defeat.

Audio Version:

Monster Shadows

 

Where monsters lurk

Cast your shadow,
Moonlight bright.
Wake the moment,
Stir the night.

Treetops sparkle,
With muted light.
Boulders hiding,
On my right.

Something scampers,
Taking flight.
It’s small and quick,
With stripes of white.

Night sounds near,
But out of sight.
Do I run,
Or stand and fight?

A distant shriek,
Causes fright.
But nothing gets me,
And I’m all right.

To the campfire,
Still flickering bright.
Its guarding sphere,
A realm of light.

Flames mostly yellow,
A few are white.
At first, I stare
But then look right.

What is that there,
Beyond my sight?
Out in the darkness,
Of the night.

Unseen monsters,
I think to fight.
And once again,
I ponder flight.

Then magically,
There’s no more fright.
The monsters flee
It’s first daylight.

Audio Version: 

The forest at night

Morning on the Trail

Backpacker hiking up slick rock in Mexico's Copper Canyon
Backpacking up the slick rock in Copper Canyon

Out of the tent and into the morning,
What will the new day have to say?

The fresh morning air is crisp and clear,
The soon-to-be coffee will be hot and dear,
And my mind is most certainly full of cheer.

The air is filled with a calming breeze,
I ponder how last night it got down to 38 degrees.

Heavy dew got everything wet,
I was that way, too, but mine was from sweat.

High in the sky, movement catches my eye,
I focus and see it’s a hawk floating by,
And I wish that I could also fly.

Two chipmunks scurry between nearby rocks,
The big one squeaking like a chatterbox.

I also hear the tumbling creek,
Yesterday, things were looking awfully bleak,
But today, we’ll forget that and climb the peak.

Sunlight is shining on the summit we seek,
Looking at the steepness makes my knees feel weak.

I’ll worry about that later on,
But for now, I’m just gonna relish the dawn,
And enjoy watching the newborn fawn.

Since we’re climbing Big Sandy, then returning here for the night,
We can limit our gear and travel light.
.
For the climb, we won’t need a big backpack.
We’re only taking raingear, water, and snack,
And can fit all of that into a knapsack.

I need to get the group up and going,
Before the wind starts really blowing.

The storms have started building every day at noon.
Just like during monsoon season, but it’s only June.
All the more reason to get going soon.

Thank goodness my rain jacket’s been working well,
It’s kept me dry and it’s only a shell.

The climb’s gonna be long, so I need to fill my bottles with water.
Look over there, is that an otter?
I swear those rocks are beginning to totter.

My thoughts sharply focus on the pending climb,
And I realize it’s become that time.

The sun’s rising fast,
The time for leaving has almost passed.

We won’t be cooking oatmeal,
Cause beating the storm’s, a big deal.
Our need to leave has now become real.

“Get up, pack your stuff, we’re leaving,” I shout.
“If we wanna beat the rain, we need to get out.”

“Just eat a snack,
While you get ready and pack,
We’ll do some cookin’ when we get back.”

“And zip up your tent, before we head out,
If you don’t and it rains things will get wet no doubt.”

After the flurry of action, we finally head out,
With the peak our goal, but without a route.

We cross the creek and see it’s full of trout,
And suddenly that’s all we’re thinking about.

We stop and talk about our goal for the day,
And decide it best to fish and stay.
Plus, avoiding the storm will help make it okay.

So, we turn around, and off we tramp,
From where we just left, it’s back to camp.

Once we get there, most get out their poles,
Then head back to the creek and the various fishing holes.

I stay behind and consider what’s changed,
And ponder the plan that’s been disarranged.

The climb to the top would’ve been fun,
Especially, that is, if the summit we won.

But the fish grabbed our attention,
And changed our intention.
As soon as we saw them, there was no more ascension.

And now here we are, on the banks of the creek,
Instead of climbing toward the peak.
We still have a “goal,” so to speak,
But it’s no longer the summit, it’s Brookies we seek.

Days are full of changes to plans,
Partly because there are so many cans.

Relish the moments, both subtle and profound,
Embrace all that happens and keep looking around.

Continue reading “Morning on the Trail”

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