First Night

The two of us haven’t been camping in over 30 years.  Not since the Time Before Children and When We Only Had Crap Student Jobs.

Accommodations provided by the Thomas'

We were smart enough this time to ask seasoned campers if we could borrow equipment.  Goose Down sleeping bags with inflatable mats “for middle-aged bodies.”  A domed tent with extra parts of which I understand nothing.  Back in Condon, with the help of the Infinite Internet, we were able to find availability and even see a photo of the campsite before making our reservation.  A fire pit - albeit not a working grill - allowed us   to prepare food much easier than with that old tabletop Hibachi back in the day.  

Last night as we started to relax after our Very Long Day in the Car and two trips for supplies at the Freddie Meyer, I watched the tendrils of smoke from the fire dance and kiss the leaves above.  The leaves giggled and fluttered with the waves of heat.

Bridge from parking space
up to our campsite.

The sun set on the Pacific, out of view from the perch of our campsite.  I settled under the goose down, my body coiled around Tim.  The road hum provided white noise as squirrels scolded us for being in their domain.  Birds tweeted, chirped, warbled, and whistled their last messages of the day.  A young voice from a neighboring site gave an enthusiastic rendition of Happy Birthday, then dissolved into laughter.  

Once darkness overtook us completely, the distant roar of waves crashing found my ears.  I remembered previous trips to the Oregon coast.  I remembered marveling at the power the Divine had granted the Water.  As I concentrated on the power and immensity of the natural world, I left this dimension and chased dreams