Pitching tents

I've been slacking on the blog posts, but I've been busy working out, and reading, and working on a short story, but thankfully someone texts me and let's me know she enjoys the blogs. Here we go.

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I woke up. It was 8:30am. This was not good. I was supposed to be downstairs in the car at 8:30am.

I looked at my phone. Text message from Maldo “Heyo, we’re packing up the car and planning to leave at 8:30.”

Uh, oh, spaghettios. Groundswell will disappoint.

I throw some clothes on. Forgo the shower –we’re going camping. Showering is never expected. Teeth brushed, jeans on, flip-flops adorn the feet, and I’m downstairs.

I head for the cooler. They were waiting for the chicken, hot dogs, and turkey burgers I had prepared for the trip.

We be camping, but we be eating and we be drinking as well.

The cooler is stocked. I wasn’t the only one who had done some precamp shopping.

My camping partners need no introduction. They are Maldo and Lu. A married couple. The picture of happiness. The reason people should travel. Maldo is a slender, fit, 28 year-old with salt and pepper hair. From New Haven. Where they invented the world. A classic east coast soul. We were friends from before we met. Hell, we’re both Red Sox fans. We both knew about the E. Coli break out at Jack In the Box in 1994 and it still scares us away. He has fast become one of my best friends out here.

Lu is Max’s Argentine wife. She hails from Buenos Aires, and she is as cool as they come. She’s the captain of the Team Mate and got some of the biggest brownest eyes you’ve ever seen. A soul full of love, and a great sense of humor.

Together they are Love.

We’re in the car. The three of us. It’s Friday, and thank God we’re heading out on the road.

Our destination is towards the north. It’s two hours outside of Los Angeles – Lake Cachuma. It’s not far from the coast and it’s come recommended by a friend of Love. That’s enough for me.

I haven’t been camping in 9 years. I had spent the first 20 years of my life not knowing camping. Boating I knew. Camping was as foreign as the vagina. I discovered camping two years after discovering vagina. I was in Cape Town, South Africa. I was with 12 of my closest friends that I didn’t know. We were by some lake in South Africa. We had a safari-like bus. Less fancy, but everything we needed. The sky was incredible. Space viewed from the southern hemisphere of Earth – it’s like you’re upside down, but you’re seeing it correctly for the first time. Amazing. We’re in the boonies. There is no light shining other than our camp fire. If there was dust on the lens you could have seen it. That’s if life were a movie, and I was the camera. If you’ve never seen the Southern Hemisphere sky, please do yourself a favor and go. Someplace dark. Someplace very dark.

Camping South Africa was the way we traveled. I shared a tent with my fellow journeymen, Jordan and Simon Jay. And the three of us saw Africa together. Many nights drunk. Many nights too close for comfort. But we were always together. It was an amazing way to see a country, to see a part of much of the southern part of the continent. It was a great way to get to know two people incredible well. And it was an amazing way to be introduced to camping.

I love it. I love camping. I love roughing it. I love not showering. I love pissing outside. I love the quiet. I love the solitude. I love tuning my soul to nature. I love the fires. I love the drinks. I love the easy nature of my fellow travelers. I love that you just relax and take in your surroundings while you mull over what needs to be mulled over.

I was excited to come back. Nine years is a long time. I have no reason for why I don’t go camping when I’m back east. Maybe I just forgot how.

We were knocking off the rust. Love and I were kicking down the door and getting back to it – getting back to nature and getting back to ourselves.

Los Angeles is an outdoor city. But it’s still a city, which means there are generally too many people around for anybody’s need. It’s nice to get out.

We arrive at Lake Cachuma at 12:30pm. We had to run errands in LA. Last minute things that add up to more than you were expecting (i.e. life). We didn’t get out until 10:00am. We hit some traffic. Friday in LA. C’mon now. I did discover the idea of having children so that I could take the car pool lane. It seemed as logical as any reason to have kids these days. Still debating merits.

I also discovered that I like watermelon. Twenty-nine years, five months, on the dot - Groundswell likes watermelon. Go figure. (I always did like watermelon Jolly Rancher’s so I should not be too surprised.)

Maldo is at the helm. Lu’s got the shotgun. I’m holding down the fort in back. The trunk is packed. We’re in an old school Volvo Wagon – La Batata. Spanish for piece of shit. But, it’s a solid, reliable, sturdy wagon and one the will easily get us over the mountains.

I climbed up over the mountain, to see what was beyond the town I grew up in.
I cast a line to see if there was something bigger than life.
There’s a voice in my head that never rests.
It says Jesus, life is bigger than death.
On a clear day you can see forever.
On a clear day you can love forever.

We live to love and we love to live.

Because I love her, I swear I can fix this.
Because I love her, I drink the elixir.
I’ll be better in a minute, yes you’ll see.
I’ll be better in a minute, yes you’ll see.

(Turns out sneezing is somewhat orgasmic for women. I’ve begun wearing pepper instead of cologne when I go out. Fingers crossed.)

We live to love and we love to live.

Because you love me, you won’t save me.
Because you love me, you won’t believe me.

I be searching for the devil in the desert.
I’m left standing, but I’m a changed man
I be searching for the devil in the desert,
I’m left standing, but I ain’t the same man

We live to love and we love to live.
No matter what you’re age.
We are the light of the world.
We are just little boys and girls.

“Sprawl II” on The Suburbs is better than anything on High Violet. I still love High Violet as a collection more.

Little, little stuck in the middle playing the fiddle – ‘Lil ‘Lil
Little, little playing the fiddle for the devil – ‘Lil ‘Lil

By and by the car trip went easy.

We arrive at Lake Cachuma excited. We pick out our camping spot and set up shop. Love helps Groundswell, then Groundswell helps Love. That’s they way it goes and that’s the way it went. All weekend long.

We take a walk and check out the spot. It’s pretty cool. Nice lake. No swimming allowed as it’s a drinking supply. We then surmise that Cachuma is a Native American term for blue balls. It seems appropriate.

Undaunted, we head down by the shore to soak up some rays. The shore is rocky. The sun is hot. There is a cool breeze, but not enough to take away all the heat from the sun. After thirty minutes of intense sun bathing. We decide it’s time to move to the pool and take a dip and continue the soaking up of the sun’s rays.

We walk over to the pool. It’s about a ten minute walk. Through the camp site. The pool is crowded with kids. Hell it’s $2 / hour and it’s a piece of shit. I was expecting some Olympic sized goodness. Not even quite.

We can’t get in because it’ sold out. Hell we don’t really want to get in. The good news is that the asshole pool attendent gives us the inside tip – he tells us to head out of the camp grounds, drive ten minutes down to San Padre National Forest – for a $5 entrance fee you can swim all day in the lake. This you see is what we’re going to do.

We execute the plan flawlessly. The river is just what we needed. We brought some beers with us and swim. It’s perfect. California rivers are nice.

After a few hours, as the sun was settling down along the lake, we head back to our campsite. It’s time to begin the fire and get on with dinner and drinking.

I love camping.

On the menu – burgers and dogs. Not just any burgers or dogs – Maldo is making up some of his own homemade burgers and I bought some organic grass-fed beef hot dogs. Oppulence. Yup.

The burgers were amazing. Cooked perfectly and oozing with flavors. The dogs didn’t disappoint. Organic leftovers ground up and put into a casing is pretty awesome. Some organic ketcup to round that shit up and you’re happy.

We’re drinking Fernet and Coke. The sunset was spectacular. The moon is nearly as full as our bellies.

Happiness is.

We play card games. We get to know each other. We move beyond being neighbors who became friends into the region of friends who become family.

We fart. We laugh. We talk about pooping. It’s like being home. Oh yeah.

My tent is spacious. I borrowed a two person tent from a friend and I am alone. It’s like owning a queen sized bed and sleeping in it yourself. I do that too.

We wake up at around 8am the next mornig. It’s overcast, which we’re thankful for since it provides some relief in our tents.

After the morning routine, we make up a nice breakfast, eat, do the dishes just in time for the sun to shine through.

Today is Saturday, and we’re going back to the river. This time, though, we’re going hiking and then we’re going to end at the river.

The hike turns out to be a six mile jaunt through San Padre National forest in the hot sun. But, the sun feels good on our skin. The butterflies are swirling around bouncing on the breeze in an unpredictable frenzy. They make me think of electrons in their shell. You really don’t know where they are going to be next.

We get back to the river just in time. We’re out of water. Lu is exhausted. We’re sweating. We crack open three beers and chill by the batata. Budweiser has never tasted so good. The cops rain on our parade. No drinking in the parking lot. Fine. We move down to the river with our beers. Horrible.

We take a dip again and swim like kids all day. In and out of the water, soaking up the sun. Not a care in the world.

Close your eyes, turn off your mind and float up stream. Oh, John.

We make it back to the campsite in time for the sunset again.

The drinks are cracking and the fire is popping. It’s time for round two of cooking an ill dinner. This time I’m we’re cooking turkey burgers and some chicken that’s been marinating for two days in an asian marinade.

It’s off the hook.

We eat and drink like kings. We play cards. We laugh. We play a few torturous games of twenty questions. We learn about the moon’s rotation and when it’s full. We call it a night.

We wake up early the next morning pack our car and head back to LA.

It’s been a great two days.

We’re tuned up. We’re ready to head back to Lala land and get back to the everyday things that we call the real world.

Groundswell and Love head home.

Until next time kiddos,
Groundswell