Summer is tough around here. Drunk people on rafts clog the river, the hiking trails are overrun by groups of soccer moms in day-glo spandex, the city streets are closed for events ranging from classic car shows to art festivals to motorcycle rallies. I don’t enjoy going out during the summer. I prefer the cooler months when I can find solitude. That said I still manage to get some time in the boonies, mostly to maintain my sanity. Here is a recap of the past several weeks.
I took Travis on his first “real” backpacking trip. Up to now he’s done car camping with me or stayed in a pop-up trailer with his mom and stepfather. I do not consider this camping and it was time he got to experience what camping is supposed to be. We only went a mile or so out of town but it was far enough that it felt isolated.
We pitched camp. Travis had the hammock and I slept under my tarp. We are in the middle of a drought and fires are restricted, so s’mores had to come out of a foil package. Travis didn’t seem to mind.
I tried out my new pack from Frost River. It’s definitely heavier than more modern packs but makes up for it by being tough as nails (waxed canvas and leather.) This is something I think I’ll be able to pass down to Travis someday. I might write a review on the pack once I’ve used it a few more months.
The night was colder than expected. Travis had a down bag and had no problems. I went with the “travel light, freeze at night” philosophy and got to fully experience the “freeze at night” part.
Dawn warmth was extremely welcome.
We went for a short hike to warm the blood and headed home.
This is certainly not an epic adventure by most standards, but I feel it is more important than many of the trips I have been on. I passed down some outdoor traditions and continued to stoke a love of the outdoors in my son. There is no greater adventure than that.
A few weeks later it was my birthday. Kory bought me a new tattoo at Lucky Seven Tattoo in King’s Beach, Lake Tahoe. I’d been wanting something to represent my love of fly fishing and the outdoors for a while and decided a Royal Wulff fly would fit the bill perfectly.
The Royal Wulff was the first fly I ever received, the first fly I caught a fish on, the first dry fly I learned how to tie and the first fly I personally tied and caught a fish on. Some history there to say the least.
Russell, one of the owners and a fishing guide, did the work. It was nice to go in and know that the man doing the art would know exactly what I wanted. I couldn’t be happier with the finished piece.
Other than that not a lot of news. Just some day hikes and morning fishing trips trying to avoid civilization and, unfortunately, often finding it anyway. Pray for an early snow.