At 6500 Feet

We'd planned this trip for endless weeks, our little escape into the wilderness.  We were heading out to camp in the rugged and beautiful heart of Oregon, far from jobs, moms, and even the ceaseless meows of our insatiably needy cat.  What follows is a short account of our "vacation":

Wednesday: Arrived at Lodge for our one night of luxury and down-filled bedding bliss.  Noticed an unusual amount of wind, but distracted by lovey-dovey in-love anniversary stuff.  Indulged in bottle of exorbitantly priced champagne and subsequent crazy sex.  And another bottle....and crazy sex.  Repeat.

Thursday: Explored no fewer than nine campgrounds before beloved husband is satisfied with privacy/view ratio.  Pleased to find tent is easily assembled, disappointed to discover that the lantern is some sort of i.q. test.  Decided to live by the light of fire, particulary after flashlight bulb explodes mysteriously. 

Friday: Unusual wind grows into howling, gale force wind.  Tent rolls around camp at will.  By late afternoon, I am wearing every piece of clothing I brought, as it's ******* freezing-*** cold.  Husband's advances are shot down with fervor.  **** off, I'm cold.

Saturday:  Wake up to more icy wind.  This is June, what the hell!  Learned important lesson i.e. bear boxes: they are not always effective. Bears were apparently not fazed by chilly summer morn, and gorged themselves on sausages and graham crackers.  We celebrate this interaction with nature by packing up and going home. 

Sunday:  Tired of the city.  Maybe we should camp. 




natlynn natlynn
26-30, F
Jun 26, 2007