Back in the Woods

Snapshots from two days in the woods: Missing the Flyers "make history" and not really caring. Heavy boots. Thick socks. Greenery. Mountain children with juice-stained faces and camouflage pants. Sweating on the incline. Sweating on the decline. High humidity on a Friday afternoon. The threat of blisters. Mountaintop vistas. Blue songbirds. Flowerless rhododendron. Resting in the tall grass by the lake, beneath an azure sky streaked with cotton. Washing my face in a virgin stream.

Heaping piles of kindling. Waterproof matches. Flames. The trials and roundabout normalcy of Coverly Wapshot. Emotional comforts tied to a self-made campfire. Boiling water. The small joys of oatmeal and blueberries. Caffeine addiction, made clear by my ravenous consumption of truly terrible but no less wonderful instant coffee. The horror of running out of wood even though it's not even dark yet. Stars. Memories of well-spent nights under starry skies in California, Arizona, Illinois.

Spotty cell-phone reception. Heavy raindrops keeping rhythm on the tent's vinyl. Bloodsuckers. Spiders. Buzzards. Millipedes. Sleepless nights on the hard ground. Things I lost in the fire -- namely, an overcooked veggie dog. An ashy taste in my mouth. Looking for dry things to burn. Finding the car and heading back east. Mirrors. Deer ticks. Thirty days of doxycycline.