Random right.
Wearing thick burlap kine sweaters, bearded, cold, and happy, we stumbled into this little fishing town for a taste of the local beer. I had a fine cod chowder, while adam opted for the Haddock.
A few words about camp: the woods were enchanted. Winds blew in from the north, and with them came rain and cold, and eventually... the night. In the night by the fire we relaxed and listened to the roar of the big northern waters, mists floated through--grey--we drank some dark beer and talked about the swell, and going further north. Sounds came out of the dark, whistling could be heard, and I felt like we weren't really by ourselves. Commando camping can be a bit unsettling at times--this night I slept in a deep puddle--I remember thinking it would be smart to dig out the rocks under my side of the tent, kind of make it nice and flat. The impression I left filled with about three inches of water--between that and the talking trees, I didn't sleep. And of-course Adam slept like a peach. Some long lefts and a 20 hour drive home followed.
Real adventure is not easy. One does not just go out for adventure, instead, one becomes captured... stuck... on a cliff, or in the cold, at sea, or in a desert, even, in a city--adventure begins when things go wrong--only then does the mind sit back and allow the spirit to lead. I didn't want to go on this trip, it looked too gnarly. Who heads north in the late fall? There was cold rain and wind and snow. There were cities, miles of roads, and moose. I didn't want to take on those challenges, I had become too safe, too smart. Too mindful. I thank Adam for making me go.
Random right.
Wearing thick burlap kine sweaters, bearded, cold, and happy, we stumbled into this little fishing town for a taste of the local beer. I had a fine cod chowder, while adam opted for the Haddock.
A few words about camp: the woods were enchanted. Winds blew in from the north, and with them came rain and cold, and eventually... the night. In the night by the fire we relaxed and listened to the roar of the big northern waters, mists floated through--grey--we drank some dark beer and talked about the swell, and going further north. Sounds came out of the dark, whistling could be heard, and I felt like we weren't really by ourselves. Commando camping can be a bit unsettling at times--this night I slept in a deep puddle--I remember thinking it would be smart to dig out the rocks under my side of the tent, kind of make it nice and flat. The impression I left filled with about three inches of water--between that and the talking trees, I didn't sleep. And of-course Adam slept like a peach. Some long lefts and a 20 hour drive home followed. 
Real adventure is not easy. One does not just go out for adventure, instead, one becomes captured... stuck... on a cliff, or in the cold, at sea, or in a desert, even, in a city--adventure begins when things go wrong--only then does the mind sit back and allow the spirit to lead. I didn't want to go on this trip, it looked too gnarly. Who heads north in the late fall? There was cold rain and wind and snow. There were cities, miles of roads, and moose. I didn't want to take on those challenges, I had become too safe, too smart. Too mindful. I thank Adam for making me go. 
