Nay, we are but men. Rock!

This past weekend was Memorial Day weekend.  As such my family decided to go ‘camping’ on one of my favorite fly fishing rivers.  I use the term camping very loosely here.  After all was said and done we had about fifteen people at the campsite, consisting of my immediate family and some aunts and uncles and cousins.  Now when I am camping I prefer to take only what I can fit into my backpack and hike into the wilderness in order to find the most secluded place possible.  Secondly, due to the fact that it was Memorial Day the ‘campers’ were out in droves leaving no actual camp sites so we ended up setting up our home base in a gravel parking lot.  The final reason I struggle to call what I did this weekend camping is that both my father and my uncle have portable hotels they call campers.  Now I have issue calling something camping when everyone, did I mention there were fifteen of us total, has a bed with a mattress, running water, satellite TV, refrigerators, and working toilets.  This is not to say that I did not have a good time this weekend.  It was fun.  We caught some decent fish, I took the weekend with a 16″ rainbow.  We had good conversations and played a lot of cards.  We had some very good Oregon micro-brews.  It was a pleasant weekend away; it just wasn’t camping.

 My uncles kept telling me that this is what happens when you get older.  I hope they’re wrong.  I hope this isn’t true for me.  I understand that as you get older there is a certain desire for comfort.  I just hope that I am able to find my comforts in other places.  Even though I had a good time this weekend the enjoyment came differently than if I had been camping on my terms.  If I had been by myself or with a couple friends or my wife the enjoyment would have come from being removed from the every day frenzy and from being in a place where the beauty of God’s creation sings its beauty undistorted by traffic and cell phones and all of the other fillers that we don’t think we can go without.  Part of the comfort of camping for me is the fact that there aren’t the ‘comforts’ of every day life.  I don’t have to rely on my wonderful bed or computer or car to make my life better.  Being in the deep wilderness with nothing but a tarp shelter, my backpacking fly rod, a few more kitchen oddities, and a couple of select friends gives me a comfort that can’t be found in luxury.  It gives me a comfort the reminds me that there is still quiet in the world and that when you go to those places of quiet you can actually hear yourself and the voice of God.  Both are still present.