“Fire, we give you what
you like best.
Join us now
make us blessed.
Fire we share with
what we eat.
Give us light.
Give us heat.” – a prophet
My first camping expedition in 11 years was this past weekend. MELT and I headed to Turquoise Lake, a 1,800-acre reservoir west of Leadville, Colorado at approximately 10,000 feet in altitude. It was named for the semiprecious stone that was mined in the surrounding area. It is beautiful wilderness with fresh pine scent in the clean air, cool breezes and nature galore. Bug repellent is a most precious companion. I battled a bear with my bare hands. We stuck to “The List,” a checklist which made the trip more organized. There were a few pleasantries that we did not have (hatchet, star charts, wash basin) but not having them did not hinder our fun.
We camped at the Tabor Campground and were lucky to find a spot because there were campers and RVs everywhere. It must be summertime in Colorado. Luckily we scored spot number 7. As the Colorado dog days of summer were beating down on the Denver, it was 20 degrees cooler in the mountains, a pleasant 72 degrees Fahrenheit. At night I didn't even need blankets or a sleeping bag in my tent. MELT froze his ass off at 5am in the morning when we woke – but fresh, hot coffee, soon defrosted numb hands and cleared the sleep from weary eyes. It was so nice to be away from the internet and cell phones and the din of city traffic. It was a delight to be away from barking dogs and emergency sirens and arguing neighbors – well mostly, there was the occasional emergency vehicle in the far distance. Camping causes strokes and the heart failure in the faint of heart, mind, body and spirit.
My iPod and portable speakers provided constant background music from jazz to classical to techno to oldies to tuvan throat chants to U2 to opera to country to disturbing staticy goodness to top 40.
The Rocky Mountain high-country is a beautiful place. There was no city light pollution to reduce stargazing and the stars were striking with the Milky Way spreading across the heavens. I saw several meteors. MELT set up his telescope and we gazed at what we first thought was the planet Venus to the unaided eye. Much to our amazement, through the telescope, it was actually Jupiter and 4 of its moons. You could see the faint white and red banding of the atmosphere and a small red spot for which the mighty planet is best known. It was one of the coolest things I have ever seen and it makes you realize how small you really are in the vast cosmos. It was truly THE highlight of the trip aside from the experience itself.
Fish in Turquoise Lake include Mackinaw trout, rainbow trout and brook trout. A gaggle of trout. We fished and fished and fished. We caught nothing. We fished around Tabor: nothing. We fished at sunset and at dawn: nothing. People to the left and right of us were catching fish. We heard jubilant cries of joy as even little kids, some in strollers, were reeling in the fish to the wide-eyed amazement of their parents. The shouts of fish-catching pleasure echoing across the lake made us fish on with more fervor and determination. We fished at Abe Lee: nothing. We fished at May Queen: nothing. I performed a fish-catching ritual: nothing. We fished near Sugar Loaf Dam: nothing. We fished in surrounding streams: nothing. Not catching any fish did not deter us from fishing. We may currently be "Anglers of Failure," but I don't mind. When I do catch that first fish, it will be a sweet moment worth singing about and writing epic poems about. It was the vast expanse of the wild that made me happy. It was the miles of National Forest that made me contemplate my existence. On our return trip MELT broke the unlucky fishing poles – probably for the best, because I think that they were broken to begin with. Perhaps we’ll have better luck with new ones, or old, as I must retrieve the recently departed GrandPappie Dale’s blessed fishing gear soon.
On our traverse around the lake in search of first-rate fishing, we dodged bicyclists participating in the Leadville Trail 100 Mountain Bike Race. There were cyclists everywhere, some trudging slowly uphill, some stopped and huffing and puffing and puking in the rough on the side of the road and some elite few moving briskly. We cheered their hard work by tossing water on them, screaming “out of the way fuckers!” and honking the vehicle horn loudly causing several participants to tumble from their bikes wildly and unnaturally. We also snaked some precious water as we drove by the water relay stations. It was refreshing. Good times.
Fire danger was low in the area. The campfire was a real treat, providing a smoky goodness to the surrounding ambience, another signal that we were camping. We cooked chicken (rubbed with a glorious herb rub), zucchini and corn-on-the-cob over the fire. We cooked coffee and breakfast burritos (potatoes, eggs, jalapenos, white onion, green peppers, mushrooms, garden-fresh tomatoes, center-cut bacon, cheddar cheese, tortilla) on a small camp stove. We made sammiches of corned beef and ham to take on our fishing adventures. We had hot apple pie. We drank beer and scotch and partook in s'mores. There is nothing like the taste of roasted marshmallow and a slab of chocolate all sandwiched between two pieces of tasty graham cracker-delish! S'mores are a camping staple. The fresh air makes them taste better than other non-camping s'mores moments. August 10th was National S'mores Day. Too bad we ate s’mores on the 11th.
My camping expedition was a fulfilling amalgum of relaxtion, emlightenment, adventure, fun and, of course, the outdoors! Next time it’ll be Molly Brown 6 or 14 instead of Tabor 7.
Posted by RAD at August 13, 2007 3:27 PM