Monday, October 28, 2013

October camping on the James River: my survival story

Last Friday afternoon Jim and I embarked on a three hour drive south to the James River State Park for a two night camping trip. It was our first time camping in several years and the first trip without our kids. Our menu was planned, supplies purchased and our old camping gear - plus a brand new tent - was packed carefully in the back of our van. We were ready and excited! Having never been to the James River State Park, we weren't quite sure what to expect, but from the description on the Virginia State Park website it promised to be the perfect spot for turning life down a notch or two; an opportunity to truly relax and enjoy communing with nature. Jim even considered doing a little fishing.

Our campsite looking up toward the parking area from the bank of the river

I had reserved our spot a few months earlier based on our availability to get away and the availability of campsites at the park. For about 10 days prior to our weekend, I had been eying the weather forecast, wondering about how cold it was going to get at night. Based on the reports, there was no doubt that it was going to be cold. So we prepared for it by packing warm clothes, including extra socks, long johns, scarves, hats, gloves and winter jackets. We had very warm sleeping bags and an extra quilt. We stocked up on coffee, tea and hot cocoa. We would stay warm and toasty no matter what - no problem! Even Holly donned a new sweater and we packed her fleece doggy jacket. She had lots of blankets to snuggle up in, as dachshunds do not like to be cold.

Well. 

Man, oh man. Boy, oh boy. Did it get cold! Freezing, cold.

We arrived at the campground around 5:00 as the sun was going down over the James. A truly gorgeous sight. It was nice to have daylight to set up camp, but by the time we built a fire and sat around eating our soup supper it was dark and quite chilly. I switched my down vest for my winter jacket, and put on my hat and gloves. As we were sipping hot beverages later that evening and inching closer and closer to the fire, we decided to call it a night. 

Sunset over the James River

Here is what I ended up wearing to bed that night: two pairs of socks, long johns and fleece sweat pants, a long sleeved t-shirt, a pull-over sweat shirt, a wool scarf, gloves, a fleece hat, and my winter jacket. And I was still COLD. I was in my 30 lb sleeping bag (which happens to be way too warm in the summer, by the way) and I had a comforter on top of that. Holly, in her sweater, was snuggled up against my belly. I ended up putting one of those hand warmer packets that are designed to go inside your gloves or mittens inside my underwear. You may laugh, but it helped A LOT! I think it actually saved my life. Kuddos to whomever invented those little treasures. I figured out that the cold air was traveling down into my sleeping bag from the top, so I tried to close it up around me. What I need is a cocoon style bag - like my husband has. He claims he was warm enough except for his feet. And he attributes that to 'old age'.

I finally dozed off - only to be awakened a few times by the passing of a freight train on the railroad tracks situated across the river, then lulled back to sleep again by the baying of country dogs off in the distance. I prayed I didn't have to get up in the middle of the night to go potty. Thankfully, I did not. 

Around 7 a.m. a few of the campers in the neighboring site began stirring and woke me up. Then I really did have to go potty. The latrine was just up the road a piece - not really far - but not really close either. I slipped on my sneakers and unzipped the tent. The door of the tent crackled. Oh.my.gosh. A fairyland of frost and ice greeted me. Everything was frozen. The water in Holly's dog dish, our dish washing soap, our hand soap. Everything. 







I dragged Holly up to the latrine with me. She took care of her business on our way up and back. As soon as we arrived back at our tent, she made a b-line for Jim's sleeping bag to hunker down and snuggle up. Smart dog. She didn't emerge until she smelled the Canadian bacon and eggs cooking and the sun had inched a little higher in the sky. 




Holly goes back to bed
 

Saturday morning fire

There are small rapids up river producing little puffs of foam that float along the current. On Saturday morning the foam was frozen.

An early morning mist

The view from the campsite was gorgeous




After breakfast we hiked a few of the beautiful trails that meander through the park. Our five mile trek warmed us up nicely, but somewhere along the way, I convinced Jim that we should break camp and head back home that afternoon. 


Sun streaming down on the frost-covered trail

Canadian geese enjoying the chilly waters of the James

A beaver habitat along the trail

Jim and Holly taking in the view

Gorgeous. The James River State Park is beautiful.
 
By the time we got back to our site, the wind had picked up significantly and although the sun was higher in the sky and invitingly warm, the windchill made it seem much colder. After lunch we packed it all up and headed for home. I guess I wimped out. I just couldn't stand the thought of another night of trying to keep from freezing to death. Kind of takes the fun out of it, you know?

Before exiting, Jim and I explored other areas of the park. It really is a lovely place. There are campgrounds for folks with horses, RV's, and another primitive tent site tucked way back in the woods (where I would definitely consider camping for purposes of more privacy and for the distance away from the train tracks). There is a loop of very nice looking cabins perched on high ground. The westerly facing cabins have a gorgeous view across the mountains. In the summer months, the park purportedly is a great place for tubing on the river and for canoeing and kayaking at any time.

I would definitely go back. Perhaps in May or June. Although a cabin in the fall or winter would suit me just fine!


Wednesday, October 23, 2013

He was there

Last Sunday, Jim and I rose before sunrise; we showered, shaved and dressed. After taking care of a few last minute chores and packing, we grabbed our coffee to go and hit the road. It was a beautiful autumn morning and we chose to drive a little out of our way to avoid a reported detour along I-95 (that we learned later turned out to be misinformation). Our more westerly route through the country turned out to be very pleasant with no traffic hassles. It dumped us onto I-95 in Fredericksburg. From there we sped south heading for North Carolina. It's a familiar road as we've traveled it well over the years and one that normally causes us much angst, particularly during the summer months when traffic back-ups are an all too common occurrence. Sunday mornings in mid-October are a different story (at least the further away you are from northern Virginia!) and it was smooth sailing for us this time. Somewhere near the state line, I had begun to grow weary, apparently my caffeine fix had worn off. I pulled off the highway and into a gas station where we switched drivers.

Back on the road, the highway was soon flanked on either side by stately rows of tall pines like sentries guarding our way. Peeking through and beyond the trees, I spied miles of snow-white fields of cotton, most certainly ready for harvesting. Little Blue (our Honda Fit) carried us across bridges spanning brackish swamps and rivers named Neuse and Tar. I knew then that we were closer to our destination and before long we were exiting the interstate, driving through the quaint, small southern town of Benson making our way west passed farmland and country homes toward Buies Creek.

Shortly before one o'clock we arrived at Campbell University where Erin is enrolled in the School of Osteopathic Medicine. Students and family members were already entering the convocation center to await the start of the class of 2017's White Coat ceremony, scheduled to begin at two o'clock.


Having never experienced a White Coat ceremony, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. It turned out to be a beautiful, moving experience. The presentations and the keynote address were interesting and truly inspiring, but the ceremony itself was the most poignant. The student doctors lined up with their advisers, waiting for their names to be called. As his name was called, the student walked across the stage, handed his coat to his adviser and he/she and the dean of the medical school "coated" him. If a student happened to have a relative or mentor who was a physician he or she was invited to "coat" the student doctor. After some time, it occurred to me that if Jim's dad had still been alive he could possibly have been there to "coat" Erin. 


Grandpa Fred was a pediatrician and a great inspiration to Erin. He was the kind of doctor one rarely meets these days; the kind of doctor Erin hopes to be one day. He devoted generous chunks of time to his patients and really got to know them and their families. He did not define his patients by their various ailments or illnesses; he recognized each patient's inherent dignity and treated them with compassion and love. He was gentle and fun.

Sitting there in Campbell University's convocation center Sunday afternoon, I thought about how proud Grandpa would have been of Erin, and my missing him at that moment caused tears to pool and my chin to quiver a bit. When I was able, I leaned over and whispered my thoughts to Jim. He smiled, shook his head in agreement and his eyes, too, brimmed with tears. It was a raw, beautiful moment. 

It was a truly joyful moment as well; we couldn't be more proud of Erin. We knew, too, that Grandpa was there. I could feel him there. I could see him, smiling broadly (he had the best smile), "coating" Erin and drawing her to him with those marvelous hands of his; those hands that had healed so many and so often offered comfort and an invitation to trust.

Yep. He was there.



Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Misty Morning :: Daybook


Outside my window ::
Low flying geese lift an early morning mist as they pass overhead, giving way to blue skies and delightful sunshine by midday. A lovely breeze sends the fallen leaves tumbling across the yard. The accompanying chill, though slight, warns of coming November gales. Soon and welcome.
I am wearing ::
Black yoga pants (although I do not do yoga), a kelly-green t-shirt, gray zip-up sweatshirt and my old Nike sneakers.
On Pandora ::
George Winston Radio
Around the house ::
Work on our basement resumes. J installed a very nice looking french door to replace the slider. 
I'm not sure I can live with the wall color. It definitely did not turn out as I had hoped. It hums violet or mauve under the influence of the basement lighting. Hmm.


From the kitchen and garden ::
I've been making lots of soup lately. We're still harvesting tomatoes, so I made Ina Garten's cream of tomato soup. Very yummy! The recipe is on the Food Network website. I also recently made an acorn squash soup that was to die for and a beef, Italian sausage vegetable soup that was also very good. I have my eye on a beautiful butternut squash currently taking up residence in a large, wooden salad bowl on the kitchen counter.

J made pickles on Labor Day weekend, as he does every late summer. This year, however, he had to buy a bushel of cukes from a lady at the local farmer's market as tragedy struck our garden mid-summer. His poor cucumber plants fizzled out. Over-watering is our guess.
Resting by the front door are two very large pumpkins plucked from our vegetable garden a few weeks ago. A smaller one, that grew up between the bushes in front of our porch, went home with two happy tykes - Isaac and Margaret - late last week.
I am hearing ::
Holly tittering about. Little doggie nails, click-clacking along the wood floor. I suppose she wants to eat as I have yet to feed her.

I am reading ::
 I just started a book by Joel Salatin - Holy Cows and Hog Heaven: The Food Buyer's Guide to Farm Friendly Food
I've only read the Foreward (by Michael Pollan), the Introduction and Chapter One.
I will share my thoughts as I go along. For now here's only one of the many striking thoughts from Pollan's Foreward:
"Why should local - rather than, say, organic - be the linchpin to this revolution? Because a farmer dependent on a local market is far more likely to raise a variety of crops, rather than specialize in the one or two plants or animals that the national market demands. That system wants all its apples from Washington State, all its lettuce from California (and make that Iceberg, please) and its corn from Iowa. Well it turns out the people who live in Iowa can only eat so much corn and soybeans; if Iowans were eating locally, rather than from the supermarket, their farmers would soon learn how to grow a few other things besides. And as soon as they gave up on their monocultures of corn and soy, they would quickly discover they could also give up on their pesticides and chemical fertilizers, because a diversified farm will produce its own fertility and its own pest control.
Almost all of the problems of our industrial food system flow from the original sin of monoculture. Monoculture may be a powerful industrial idea - it produces economies of scale and all sorts of other efficiencies - but it runs diametrically counter to the way nature works, which nothing in this world can do indefinitely. Insect resistance, agricultural pollution, food-borne illness, and antibiotic resistance are what happens when the logic of monoculture runs up against the logic of nature. Monoculture can't survive this encounter without one industrial Band-Aid after another - beginning with chemicals and ending (well, one can hope) with genetically modified crops and irradiation. The answer to the problems of monoculture is polyculture, and, to get back to where we started, the way to support polyculture is by buying food from local farms that practice it."



I am hoping and praying ::
For safety, spiritual and physical, for Megan as she travels far and wide beginning tomorrow.

I am pondering ::
When big government fails (as is currently the case) and (extra)ordinary citizens and state and local jurisdictions jump in to right the wrongs, it gives me a glimmer of hope and restores my faith in humanity. Neighbor helping neighbor, as Christ teaches - that's what will save this country not piling on more and more federally funded and sponsored entitlements.


I am grateful ::
For God's love and mercy.

A few plans ::
J and I are driving down Sunday to witness Erin's and her fellow medical students' white coat ceremony at Campbell University. So very proud of Erin and we're looking forward to being a part of the festivities.





Saturday, October 5, 2013

saturday morning

It seems all at once,
the Saturday morning that bustled full
with ferrying kids here then there
has quieted,

yielding to a measure of time more generous than before

granting careful inspection of sinewy oak branches,
casting long, hoary shadows
like beggar's hands outstretched.

And when there is little work, 
allowing dreams to linger late 
as geese cut silently through 
an early autumn mist.

And riverside rambling, hand-in-hand, at noon.