It was a certain butch’s birthday this past week, and to celebrate, we went camping at what turned out to be the raddest spot ever. It was quiet and remote, on a lake with a dock, lots of trees and a woodland trail, plus the bonus of nearby easy-to-hike logging roads into more mountainous territory! All within a couple hours drive from our house. Say what you will about the timber industry (and believe me, I’ve said it myself), but at least it makes for some great campsites.
What do dykes do in the woods? Shoot guns, of course!
Actually, there was only one gun: An air pistol, which Oats bought with her birthday money. I was pretty surprised, cuz she’s usually rather focused on things like art supplies and nice clothes, but then I quickly got over it… Because it turns out that I myself have an inner sniper.
Yes, we drank beer and then shot up the cans. Classy!
I also spent many hours swinging in my hammock and reading… Got through 5 books in 4 days, which felt soooooooooooooooo good. You’d think I’d read more, given that I’m unemployed and all, but I just don’t make the time.
What else did we do? Oh yes, hiked.
I love a good view.
Even if it comes with sombre reminders of *why* there’s a good view… Hard to imagine how it would have been to walk up this slope before it was clearcut. Those stumps are massive.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about this land, and how I feel about it, mostly in light of the notion that I’ll be moving to a completely different part of the country this time next year (I hope!). I read a lot of sci-fi, and it has forever altered my ideas about spatiality and colonization, complicating all my thoughts on “here-ness” in delightfully interesting ways. I feel like my love for this place is so deep that I can leave and be okay simply knowing that it exists.
A wild larder: Magic! Not this fungus, I mean… It’s a lobster mushroom, and very much so edible without causing euphoric insights. Or at least not yet. I still haven’t eaten more than a nibble, because I was saving them for tonight’s dinner… I’ll let you know if they get me high.
More magic: Wild fruit! I picked just over three pounds of thimbleberries (the ones that look like raspberries), tiny native blackberries, salmonberries (the orange ones), red huckleberries (the smooth red ones), and salal berries (the smooth dark purple ones). Today they are becoming jam, to be sent off to my more eastern relatives as solstice gifts this winter, provided we don’t eat it all first. I would’ve picked more, but there was much evidence of others wanting the fruit too and sometimes I like to avoid competition.
Yes, that’s shit… Bear shit, to be exact, which is what I’m referring to in my previous sentence, in case it wasn’t obvious. It wasn’t totally fresh, but new enough to make me give careful consideration of the needs of my wilderness friends. Three pounds of berries for me seems pretty good.