It’s 3pm on a mild Sunday afternoon, I’m sitting on a low ridge overlooking a large lake, I’d say rests about a mile away if you could fly to it. I’m perched in my truck bed camper, awning windows at half mast, tailgate wide open while I continuously shoo away a wild chicken from trying to make my truck its coop. A small handful of tortilla chips had made the fowl a friend forever.

But

She’s a little overbearing. She pecks my feet for attention and follows me around like I have a key to a corn silo. I have a makeshift water bowl on the outskirts of my camping area so she can peck her way to hydration. Not sure what she’s doing for a water source the nearest reservoir would be the aforementioned lake one mile or so (bird’s flight) from my tailgate. Unfortunately for this fowl there is no flight available for H2O. I suppose she could flutter for a bit but the wilderness is quite thick up here. I’ve become attached to this little chicken unfortunately my home in downtown Greenville isn’t chicken friendly and I’m surrounded by cats. How this little unfried bird has managed to make it all on its own up here I’m unsure. Did someone do a drop and run or maybe it wandered up from one of the farms down the mountain. That would be quite a trek. The nearest domestic hood is 2 miles away. She’s not shy by any means and I’m certain I’m not the first to give her a handout. I know you aren’t supposed to feed the wildlife but this one is a tad more domesticated than most. It’s only a matter of time before it becomes a snack or a meal for one of the larger animals that hang up here. I’ve seen owls up here big enough to pick up a schnauzer. Maybe it’s a birds of a feather thing up here. I can’t be sure.

I’m primed for two days of solitude and quiet.

I brought a 3 gallon water jug I use for ware washing, bathing and warmed up about a third for a shower. I take the hot water and mix it with the remaining two gallons of cold and place a rechargeable shower hose in it for rinsing off my morning adventures. I did a slow but steady hike up the gravel road nearby and then a 20 minute workout with my old TRX ropes. The ropes are a handy tool for an easy workout away from the gym. I hang them down from my roof rack and do my thing. Made an easy meal of steak and eggs along with a cantaloupe I took from work. I snacked on a ripe peach and a tin of smoked mussels with some cocktail sauce I had also made at work. I do most of my meal prep pre camp. Owning a kitchen makes meal planning easier than trying to create from scratch in the wilderness with an extroverted chicken who has become a temporary roommate. I felt terrible eating my momofuku noodles with rotisserie chicken right in front of the chicken last night. She seemed unbothered.

I arrived at my destination around 6:30 Saturday night. Saturdays the mountain is usually littered with occupants but a light drizzle all day must’ve scared most people away. I never got a drop. It was one of those days that you could hear it, smell it, see it but not feel it. The clouds let me be. I popped a squat at the first clearing I found and it was a good one. This one comes with a vibe of nostalgia. I started coming up here in my last Tacoma back in 2019. I wasn’t trying to explore much in those days if I found a good spot it was good enough for me and this one being closer to the road I come in on before climbing the mountain made it an easy choice. I’ve probably stayed in this spot over two dozen times. I used to sit next to my cooler and drink vodka on ice as the sunset. Pass out in my little camper and go hiking further up the mountain the next day. I leave the cooler at home now and bring a little fridge for food and water and one beer. No vodka anymore I gave the bottle and hangovers up. Itll be 4.5 years tomorrow now that I think about it.

No blackouts, no shots no regrets.

Took a nap on top of my camper while I tried to get a some sun on my shoulders. According to John Denver it brings happiness.

And he would be correct.

The chicken would’ve joined me if it were able I have no doubt. My perch was more perch than she could reach.

I’m in my element of coherence. I love the deliberation involved with camping up here.

The process of boiling water for my coffee and bathing while keeping inventory on my water supply.

Portioning out my food supply for my 5 to 6 meals

Setting up my remote kitchen

Searching for dry deadfall for my evening and morning fires

Building and maintaining said fires it got a little chilly up here last night with the afternoon rain and light wind

You don’t take anything for granted up here. Phone signal is touch and go if you’re even “lucky” enough to have one. No bathrooms so just use your imagination. Air conditioning? Cmon now. I’ve got two little ecoflow batteries to charge my fridge and everything else. If the juice runs out before I leave then oh well. I’ll get solar one day it’s not that important to me at the moment.

Propane is my cooking method unless I choose to cook over the fire. I do enjoy a slow cooking skillet over coals. No need for it with just me most of the time so I don’t take it. Food tastes better up here. The deliberate process of cooking outdoors with no facilities, no sinks, no dishwasher, oven or microwave. You cook your meals and eat in silence. No tv on in the background, no phone scrolling. You sit and you eat before whatever forages around you eats it first. An unattended snack can disappear quick or be taken over by hostile insects. You can’t put dishes in the sink, can’t leave leftovers or trash out for later.

Eat

Clean

Rest

As intended

Bed time? No final tv shows to watch I stay up until my fire has burned itself out. It’s like hearing the star spangled banner on the old tube when the shows sounded off. I recall it always played right after Saturday Night Live in the 70s. It was the only time I was allowed to stay up late. I don’t stay up late out here. 9pm I’m in my truck. 30 minutes of soft music in my ears and I’m in bed. I like my coffee with the sunrise and sometimes I have to drive to find it.

I like the fire coals slightly warm for the next day. Some dried twigs and brush and you won’t even need a match for your morning fire the next day. Sometimes. Rain may decide to choose to drown it out.

Speaking of rain, you’re a slave to the elements out here. I can sit under my awning if it’s a small rain shower but the wind does its own thing up here. Mountain ranges go by their own weather system. The weatherman can predict all he wants but up here the weather is decided by the mountains. Somedays you just ride it out in your truck bed, other times you crawl in your driver’s seat in the middle of the night and hope your car’s faraday cage keeps you from becoming electrocuted by the lightning storms. I’ve had fog so thick up here in the mornings that I’ll just pull over on the ridge until it rises so I don’t fall off.

Sounds terrible, maybe? Makes me feel alive. Charcuterie is mundane to the max. I always come back home a pound lighter and a story heavier.

This is how we are meant to live. Period. Once this hits you you’ll never want to go back to domestication. I love to wake up pop open truck tailgate to see what the day holds in store for me. I may wake up to the sun rising at my feet or a small creek running through my camp from the rain. I live for it all

I’ve made a friend out of a chicken today.

I’m making walking tacos for dinner (with beef) and taking a stroll down a game trail in front of my campsite.

I spent my last night, actually the entire day around my site. The early morning hike would be my last adventure as I found lounging in the back of my truck with all the things wide open a sensible shade. Mosquitoes are stealthier up here but they weren’t as bad. Maybe my little chick friend was pecking on them for lunch? I’ve mentioned before I do two types of camping. One where I sort of nomad it for the trip, hike, bike, paddle or explore. Other times I come up to unplug and sort of hang at camp. This one I took to the extreme. I turned my truck off at 6:15 Saturday evening and didn’t open the front of my truck back up until 5:30am Monday morning. With the exception of a 30 minute walk Sunday morning to loosen my legs after sleeping I stayed at camp.

I read

Meditated

Talked to my chicken.

I alternated between my chair under my awning and my camper “sofa”

And hung out with the chicken

You get the relationship between Tom Hanks and Wilson the volley ball in Cast Away. I camped for about 48 hours and I got rather attached to the fowl. It was attached to me too. It would peck me with its beak periodically to see if I was edible. The only difference with Wilson was a volley ball isn’t edible. That chicken would’ve been lunch first day stranded on an island but I still get it. By the second day I was having adult conversations with a flightless bird. Chickens eat anything. You want a body to disappear to bones throw it in the coop. Want the bones gone? Give em to the pigs. I may have to buy a farm..

Around 7:30pm the chicken wanders off without a word. Pops back in for coffee the next morning and stays the entire day. I didn’t see one creepy crawler all day. Chicken was on point. If the chicken stopped and stared out into the high grass I did too. I had a guard chicken. Nothing can stop me. When I tried to nap I could pinpoint my chicken’s latitude and longitude by its constant tuk-tuk puttering around my campsite.

“Friend sleep! I guard” – chicken

“Later he feeds me potatoes!” – same chicken

Yeah I got a little attached. I left camp to seek a sunrise, when I drove back I stopped at my camp to make sure I tidied up and called for my friend but she didn’t pop out. I left it some water and a salt and vinegar chip and headed home.

I came home, unpacked and finished my weekend of relaxation on my sofa. When I went to bed the last words I said to my wife was

“I miss the chicken”

she patted me on the head with a “bless your heart” and I went to sleep.

Twas a good time.

Cheers to chickens