Camping at 21

Camping

     Since my last post was towards the beginning of quarantine I haven't had much to blog about with my adventures. I tried to fill some time by writing short stories and beginning to write a novel of my own. My novel writing took me to halfway through my rough draft, but a wall of writer's block mixed with online school pushed that project to the back burner of my to-do list. 

     My job working with the city came to an end and with the decision to keep the outdoor pool closed for the summer, it looks as though that job will not be continuing. So for now, my job at Dickey's is acting as my sole provider. 

     For the whole of quarantine, my schedule consisted of school, work, and massive amounts of sleep.

Now that places are starting to open up again, my travel itch is starting to become hard to ignore as I want to fill my summer with adventures and traveling. Unfortunately, social distancing laws and lack of finance are putting those adventures to a later date. However, I'm still managing to find a way.

      With our two days off from work this week, Oceane and I packed up the car and headed east for an

Oceane and I

overnight camping trip at Minam, Oregon. We left late Monday morning and made the two-hour drive to the campground located just off the high way. Making it to our campground at noon, we ate a quick sandwich lunch and then set out to explore the nearby area and take photos. For the remainder of our time at the campground, we had a few families stop by for a quick break, but we were the only two that were camping overnight.  

     This adventure only brought us to three in the afternoon, so we started a fire and began our long and large dinner of hotdogs, s'mores, and Mike's Lemonade. Four hotdogs each and endless s'mores later it was eight at night and we were ready to call it a night. 

     The next morning we woke up to a light rain on the tent and headed back to sleep until noon when the rain finally started to calm down. Packing up camp and enjoying s'mores pop tarts for breakfast we continued on our drive to Wallowa Lake before we made our way home.

     On the way home, we stopped in Lostine at the Blue Banana for coffee and smoothies. It was a small

little coffee shop with a bug parked in the side of the building and an airplane crashing into the roof. Oceane was excited to get coffee and a lavender lemonade she had had a few years ago. I got a four berry smoothie. It was very sweet and definitely tasty, but I was upset that the four berries were syrup flavors, not actual berries. 

     Lastly, our adventure ended back at home with a birthday dinner at Prodigal Sun followed by a birthday shot at the Rainbow Cafe back in town. 

     Hopefully, for July, my travel plans will come through and I'll have more stories for the end of summer. 

 

The Beginning of a Hero

   A dim light flickers against the cold stone walls. Smoke and embers dance from a nearby fire, filling the small cottage with an orange glow embraced in a smokey cloud. Paintings of men in battle amongst foreign symbols along the stone flare into view. Each with their own story; great wars, births of heroes and downfalls of evil are depicted from the ceiling to the floor. Crouching next to the fire, a young woman dressed in rags stirs the embers as a hog roasts over the flame. She hums a gentle melody to herself as she prepares dinner.
   Across the room, hidden behind a table filled with scrolls and books sits an elderly woman. Her face and arms covered with similar markings on the wall, the quill in hand scribbles across a paper as she screams; "No! No. No. NO! This can't be!" Mumbling an ancient language the drawings on her papers begin to appear on the wall. Skulls, flames, war, death begin to take over the other drawings. "The end is coming" the elder woman slowly breathes out as she drops to the ground.
   Rushing to her side, the young woman tries to bring her back to a sitting position. "Another vision Grandma?"
    Shakily looking at the wall the old woman replies in a hoarse voice, "Darkness is coming. A world burned black. Dark shadows cover the land; nowhere to hide." Leaning forward, she adds a star to the top of the painting. "There is a light! A child... your child." Looking at her granddaughter with soft eyes she begins to smile before her face returns to a panicked expression. "Quick! You must leave. He is coming."
   A loud knock raps on the front door; giving her grandmother one final hug, tears fill her eyes as she quickly sneaks out the side door. Jumping on a black stallion in the stables she rides away as fast as the horse can carry her. Heading up the hill near the cottage, she leaves her home and heads towards the Sacred Forest.
   A scream pierces through the valley, turning back, she catches a glimpse of her home being engulfed in flames. Three men dressed in black climb on the backs of wingless dragons and begin to head in the direction of the young woman. She kicks at her horse and races through trees, dodging branches as the wind runs through her chestnut hair. It was the last time she ever looked back.
   By nightfall, she came across a small inn on the edge of the forest. Cold and wet from the heavy rain that welcomed her she desperately hoped they had an open room. After settling her horse in the stables, she pushed open the heavy door leading to the tavern.
   The tavern was filled with men singing to lively music, drinking their money away and betting whatever remaining coin they had on their strength in an arm-wrestling match. Familiar scents of meat cooking and beer filled the tavern's thick air.
   Approaching the counter, a young man with curly brown hair turns from the bar to face her. His face had flour on the cheek and his eyes were a deep watery blue. Wiping off the sauce on his hands with an old rag he places it in the front pocket of his apron. "What can I get you?"
   "Just a bed for the night."
   "We're full for the night, but you look like you're freezing. You can come stay at my place for the night if you want. I'm just finishing my shift."
   She nods and he places his apron on a hook by the door before leading her to his cottage. A small shack behind the inn.
   Early the next morning the young woman wakes to a rooster crowing nearby; quietly she makes her way out. At the door, she turns back to the man sleeping and whispers a final goodbye. The morning air chills her breath, the dew on the grass cold on her bare feet. She climbs on her horse and begins her journey before the sun peeks over the horizon.
    For the next several months the young woman covers a lot of ground. Only stopping when she needs to. Almost at the end of her journey, she comes across a small red cottage on a mountain road. With the harsh winter winds blowing sharp ice against her skin and her now large stomach bringing pain to her back she trudges through the snow to the door. Asking for shelter from the couple whose lives there she is greeted with open arms.
   "Quick! Bring me a bowl of warm water and a towel!" Orders the lady of the house to her husband. "She's gone into labor."
   The next morning, the lady of the house holds up the new baby; handing the child to the young woman, she whispers; "It's a girl."

The River

     As he fell, he waited for the icy water to surround his body. Through the air, he felt the weightlessness of gravity pulling him towards the water's surface. On the river shore stood a group of friends, laughing, drinking, smiling and filming each other. In the air next to him, a girl. Her hair a dark brown with red highlights in the sunlight and beautiful waves that were about to be ruined by the water.
     Just as quickly as his foot had left the cliff, it was entering the cold river water. A brief glimpse of the group of friends on the shore followed by darkness as he went under the water's surface. Bubbles of air crawled up his body, trying to escape back up to the surface. Beginning to kick, he joins the rising bubbles of air to the top. Surfacing he regains his breath and looks to the girl by his side.
     Smiling and laughing she brushes her now wet hair out of her face and runs over to the group of spectators on the shore. The group plays back the video on a blue smartphone, the jump has already been immortalized on the internet.
     The rest of the afternoon is spent repeating jumps off the cliff. Some are simple, some include tricks and some jumps become competitions, but all give the teenagers the adrenaline rush that keeps them repeating the same jump. When the sun begins to set, the group begins to gather wood and logs, placing them in a fire pit near the shore. The rest of the night is filled with music, s'mores and more drinking until the sun comes up the next morning.
     The following morning the group of teens wakes up covered in ashes from the still-burning fire. Lightly brushing off the soot they begin to clean up and pack up their gear. Today they would be hiking to the next campsite.
     While the others woke up comfortably covered in soot, the boy woke up still wet. His curly hair dripping water and his skin cold from not drying off. His clothes still heavy. The fire was warm, but not enough to dry him off. He called out the leaving group to wait for him, but they didn't hear him. Frantically he looked for his dry clothes... his sleeping bag... his tent; all gone.
     Had he eaten breakfast this morning? Dinner last night? He couldn't remember. He calls out to the group again, but they're out of sight now. Still wet, he sits as close to the still-burning fire as he can, with hopes to dry off.
     Still wet, he hears voices in the distance, another group comes to the campsite.
     "Hey! Want to go swimming?" A cheerful voice shouts. The boy nods in agreement.
    Soon the waters are filled with a new group, this time they looked about college-age; only two years older than the boy.  The pattern repeated, an afternoon filled with swimming, jumping, and video filming, followed by a night of togetherness around a fire. Again, this group packed up and left the boy behind; still wet.
     For years the boy was struck in the same loop. Joining a group for swimming and campfire fun, to be left behind, and never being able to get dry. Until she came.
     A beautiful blonde girl. The last of the melting snow crunching underneath her hiking boots. Her pack was light and it became clear to the boy that she was traveling alone. She came to the edge of the river and crouched down to clean her face.
     After setting up a tent hidden in the trees she started a fire, gathered water and began to sketch in a small leather journal as she waited for the water to boil. Her sketchbook was filled with small sketches of flowers, trees, and natural scenery.
     With her water boiling now, the girl begins to make her dinner. A breeze brings a cold chill into the campsite; she knows she needs to prepare for a cold night. She was prepared for the cold, but she wasn't prepared for the rain that would come in.
     As she slept, a heavy rain came through the area. The girl woke up to her tent filled with ice-cold water. Panicked she desperately searches for dry clothing. Her tent begins to move as the ground underneath slides into the river.
     In her fluster of movements she unexpectedly finds herself outside the tent; standing on the shore as everything washes away. Cold and wet she looks around to plan out her next step.
     "Did you go swimming?" asks the boy.
     "No, my tent got washed down the river." she replies.