It’s the anniversary of my mother’s passing. Covid took her 3 years ago she was 83 and life was catching up to her at that age. It took about an hour of coffee and starting my day before I realized it. Little surprise that I woke up this morning with her on my mind I even whispered “love ya mom” before I got out of bed. She took a part of my soul with her when she passed. Mama’s boy til I die and then some. I was just looking at some old photo of my parents and was thinking of how much I look like my mom when I smile and my dad when I frown.

Spent my night in the mountains Sunday. First time in three months. Took some time for me to acclimate to my old vibe. As I’ve gotten older I find more things make me anxious. Not sure if it’s just my testosterone slowly jumping ship or the side effects of putting the bottle down.

Or both

It gets real easy to talk my way out of things outside my comfort zone. I’m currently tackling that issue along with not going overboard on my homebody vibes. If I hadn’t gone camping there’s a good chance I would’ve spent the day on my sofa. Breaks aren’t a bad thing but I’m trying to avoid constant lethargic thoughts.

My trip up the mountain was met with very little fanfare. It’s rare to drive up ridge and not see any camps set up or traffic. I saw one old white pickup on the way up a familiar face of sorts. I wouldn’t be suprised if he lived up there and moved site to site every two weeks to keep from gaining attention.

No clue but I see that truck just about every time I’m up there and it’s not a forest service vehicle.

The damage from Helene was apparent and as you climbed in elevation the carnage got much worse. If I wasn’t privy to the cause of the damage I’d almost believe they were about to build townhomes up there. I have a few preferred spots and my favorite was wide open due to the lack of human presence on the mountain. A few of my sites were completely gone. Completely washed away or needing an excavator to clear a path. One of my spots looked like a helicopter pad from the trees washed away. My go to site was still there but the shade of a massive tree had been cut down due to the storm. The tree is also slowly coming away from the ridge which can be dangerous to plot my truck next to. I used to tether my hammock to this particular tree. I used to hug this tree.

I backed into the spot and got out of my truck to find a level plot. It felt foreign to me. The whole mountain did I began to have second thoughts of camping. My anxiousness was getting to me. It felt like I had invited myself over to a friend’s house for a slumber party unannounced and they were sick but too polite to ask me to leave.

Got back in my truck and continued driving.

I drove to the Linville side and found an old familiar spot that looked more inviting to me and made my camp. The mountain was quiet. It was surreal not to have anyone else around. I always do a little drive around to see what kind of neighbors I may have around me. Most are respectful but on occasion someone breaks out the Bluetooth and get annoying late at night. It’s rare but I prefer to know who my neighbors are before I fall asleep 500 yards down the trail from them.

Not a soul.

I usually try to sleep with a little sound machine when I turn in. Nothing loud mind you I need to hear my surroundings but camping in the winter is almost too quiet. No cricket serenades or whippoorwills trying to lure the ladies back to their nests. It’s dead quiet. You can hear the dried leaves dragging their fingernails across the dirt when a breeze moves them around. Often times you hear something grazing around your site maybe a raccoon looking for a dropped potato chip or a deer checking out your rig.

They’re all bears at 4am.

My paranoid ass trying to figure out if I left a snickers in my pocket.

Sleep was poop from the quiet. It was fine though nothing clears your head like a cold tent, warm blanket, no sounds, no internet no lights.

It’s difficult to describe when you’re out and about in nature. You aren’t always caught up in the moment. Don’t get me wrong there are often times I’m reclined next to a campfire staring out into the gorge thinking “it doesn’t get better than this” but there’s just as many instances it’s too cold to sit still or the wind is whipping the fire around and there’s no heat or too much smoke. Sometimes you’re covered mud, you forgot something to light your fire, the elements are trying to blow your tent off of your vehicle. There are no guarantees of a good time to be had. You’re in nature’s hands.

I was out of practice and uncomfortable, forgot all kinds of shit but I was fine it was just an overnight stay for Christ sake. It wasn’t until I was packing up the next morning that my old muscle memory started to kick in again and the mountains started to feel like my second home again. I smiled. It was good to be back home. I hugged my tree friends and headed back.

Put all my gear back on my trailer when I got home. Making an attempt to sell my set up and start all over again with something new. Not sure as to what yet and if it doesn’t sell well then damn I’ll have go keep camping with it.

Worst case I’ll get a few more miles to the gallon on my truck with 300 less pounds riding around with me.

Cheers