A Campout With My Selves

May 3, 2021, Monday, 7:07 PM, Lake Siskiyou Resort, Space 175

This spot is perfect, unless something changes. Scratch that.

Typically, when I put a thought out there and trust in it, it ends up coming true. So why add a potential negative? Because I don’t want to feel dumb for having said it was perfect when a huge party could roll in here next to me at any moment! Note to self: I should probably explore this particular proclivity a little further at some point. If I believe the universe gives me what I expect, I should only expect the best, right?

This spot is perfect! There, I fixed it.

I’d thought I might head to the coast for this personal retreat, but nothing was looking open either in Southern Oregon or Northern California. Jedediah Smith in Hiouchi, Harris Beach in Brookings, Patrick’s Point State Park in Trinidad, Cape Blanco out of Port Orford, etc., were all booked. Granted, these are some of the most popular parks in the region. But weekdays in May??

So I thought about heading south and remembered that when Riley and I hiked through here three weekends ago (another adventure I need to document), I’d said I should come back for a writing retreat someday. Duh. I looked online and, bingo, lots of sites available and sunny warm days in the forecast. I called to verify and was told I’d probably have the W/E campsite loops almost all to myself and that I could just show up today and pick one. (W/E = water and electricity at the site — which was what I wanted.)

I texted Riley about how that played out when I arrived today:

Nice that it’s SO quiet. When I called on Friday, the gal said TONS of spots available. I got here and another gal said only two sites were available. Didn’t make sense. I told her that, too, (nicely!). But she was a little frustrated with me for asking if she was sure. And you can’t just go pick out a site. You have to choose or be assigned a site and pay before entry. When I went into the tent loops, most sites appeared to be open. I pulled up the website and tons of sites were showing as available. Most in fact. The one the gal had given me was RIGHT next to other people. So I went around and picked out a couple others that showed as open and went back to the gal at the entrance booth. Sure enough. Lots available. She’d looked at it wrong. Sometimes being particular pays off (though you often might piss people — including family — off in the process).

I have journaled lately about my “particular ways.” And I have become aware that I want to learn to be less particular and more able to go with the flow. But. But, there are times, like today, when if I hadn’t questioned the gal at the entrance booth, and thought for myself, I’d be sitting down in site 179, accepting that it was one of only two available options, and fuming about the fact that the rest of the campground is still empty.

I love camping off the grid with my family. Our favorite completely off-the-grid spot on the Salmon? Yeah, one of my favorite happy places. But when it’s just me and I want to get some writing done? This place rocks. One of the reasons I’d looked at Cape Blanco again was that I’d had such a great time plugging in and writing at the picnic table (after driving back to town for an extension cord and leaving Walter in the car for 20 minutes while I went into the local bar for a pint :-O). Power at the site, man, that’s where it’s at for a camper-writer! At least until I and/or campsites are “solarfied.” I even brought a lamp, lol! An actual plug-in electrified lamp from my bedside table (the smallest lamp in the house). “Why the heck not?” I thought. I also bought a hot plate yesterday for trying at home (trying to transition from gas appliances — there’s another write) and considered bringing it here until I read the instructions, and they said: “Not for outdoor use.” I was smirky-like when I read that until I plugged it in to see how it did heating water and realized how damn hot the thing gets, and, more importantly, how long it takes to cool after it’s off. Oh, fire risk, I get it. All I need is to be enjoying my chili by the fire when a dry pine needle lands on the turned-off-but-still-blazing-hot hotplate, and poof, there goes the beautiful forest and my life of ease.

I could keep going on my way here to getting to some actual point, but I need to go pee, and it’s time to light a fire and heat up some chili. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll heat my dinner over the fire or over Chuck’s old backpacking stove. Oh, the suspense.

May the 4th Be With You, 2021, Tuesday, 11:19 AM, Lake Sis Resort

I walked around the campground more this morning, scouting sites for the future while it’s still practically empty. There are actually over two hundred campsites here (not all are W/E), and I think I just might have chosen the best site! Next door may be better, but it’s occupied by a young couple from Vacaville. It seems especially private. Would need a longer extension cord though.

For the record, I heated my dinner over the vintage Browning pocket stove — a stove that I love both for its diminutive size and functionality and also because it was Chuck’s. The fire was nice, I texted a bit with Brandi about making a camping date, and then I crawled into bed in the car before ten and watched an episode of Mary Tyler Moore on my phone before falling asleep. Slept ok. Even with two layers of pads and three layers of blankets under my sleeping bag I could still feel the little lip where the seats fold down. The Princess and the Pea morph into The Queen and the Seat Ridge.

As I fumbled around for where to hang the lantern, my glasses, the whistle for scaring away any bears, my headphones, and where to put my water bottle, I thought about how cool it would be if someone specifically created a small or midsized SUV for sleeping in. Maybe they do. I’ll look it up when my googling doesn’t cost me data. (If anyone is paying especially close attention: I’m okay with wasting data on MTM!)

I’ll reconfigure the padding situation tonight and hope for a little more comfort. All in all, though, not too bad. I got the nifty window screens I ordered just in time for my trip. They slip over the windows easily, allow airflow, and keep bugs out. As I was drifting off to sleep, I did realize that I had the windows down far enough for a bear paw to reach in and smack me around, and when I wasn’t awake worrying about that, I was asleep dreaming about it. So the windows go a little farther up tonight! I wouldn’t worry about it if the food was stored someplace else, but I have to store all the food IN the car. So if a bear comes into my camp following its nose to food, it will head directly to where I’m sleeping. May that not happen!

May 5, 2021, Wednesday, 7:01 PM, Picnic Table, Lake Sis Resort

I was so looking forward to writing while here and felt so into it at first. I really do enjoy writing in undistracted and beautiful environs such as this, and appreciate this time away to do so. But I’ve been struggling. If I was just journaling, no problem. But I’m trying to work the adventure with Riley to Tule Lake (and beyond) into a post for Medium, and my writing time has been research time instead.

I was clueless and confused about Camp Tulelake and the Tule Lake Segregation Center — and the most sensitive nomenclature to use when discussing it or writing about it. SO MUCH TO LEARN. And I am so disappointed in myself that we never looked into it when we were homeschooling. What an incredibly rich learning experience that whole trip would have been with the kids.

I’d love just to sit here and journal. But I also want to share the journals. And in sharing, I also want them to be accurate and sensitive. And that requires time away from journaling to learn. Maybe everyone else already knows all this stuff about these concentration camps? I doubt it. And, in my own fumbling way, I want to do it justice. So it takes time. And it’s a different quality of writing than when I just sit here and ramble. But I write to know. And sometimes that means not writing so that I can spend time learning — and then writing some more.

The campground is even more empty today. The only people in this section are the young couple to the left of me in 174 who I can’t see but can hear are back from their day of adventuring, and then the guy down next to 179 who is out of my vision but who is probably reading in his reclining chair.

I went into town today to get a couple things and poke around a few shops. I went into the bookstore where, in 2004 I think it was, I picked up D.J. McHale’s first book in his Pendragon series: The Merchant of Death, and Eckhart Tolle’s Power of Now.

On that day back in 2004 (if my memory is recalling the year correctly), I had just spent a couple nights on a personal retreat at Stewart Mineral Springs, and on the advice of another guest there, I had driven up to Bunny Flats on Mt. Shasta that morning where I meditated in the snow and felt like I was downloading golden discs of data. I was next moved to go back into town and go to the bookstore. I felt like the universe was talking to me that day. I picked up McHale’s book for Taylor but ended up falling in love with the series myself, and Tolle’s book is still on my top ten list of most influential reads.

It was probably just me, but I didn’t feel the universe talking to me in the store today, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.

I’d initially planned on treating myself to lunch somewhere but nothing felt right. Instead, I found myself anxious to get back here. I went to Berryvale and grabbed a few grocery items and a loaded veggie sandwich from the cooler, and I came back here and went down to the beach for a bit.

I’m feeling a rushed feeling. That whole so-much-to-do-so-little-time mentality I’m all too familiar with. Damn. The first couple of days here, I was okay with just being present. Being versus doing, and allowing each moment to simply unfold. It was a rare feeling for me. Now, with the retreat over halfway over, I’m back to worrying about productivity.

I pause and look out into the distance, and at the space between the distance and me.

Mosquitoes bloomed today.

May 6, 2021, Thursday, 5:18 PM, Picnic Table, Lake Sis Resort

So far here this evening, I’ve written three sentences and then backspaced each of them . . .

Usually, the beauty of traveling alone means that I don’t have to debate the options with anyone else; I can just do what I want! Well, it’s become clear that on this trip I’ve been joined by another self who wants to debate.

I should write. I love being alone and writing at a picnic table. No, I want to just be quiet and present and not have to “do” anything. Why do I always feel like I have to do something? Why do I feel guilty just being present and letting the next moment unfold? Because this time is a gift and it’s almost over and what do I have to show for it? Shut up. I’m trying to learn to be quiet for once so that maybe other wisdom can come through. Or just so that I can learn that it’s ok not to do something and just sit here. You shut up; I need to write. Please, let’s just sit here for once.

Just wiped my laptop screen with my black paisley mask. It, and everything else around me, is covered in pollen.

Aside from the first night dreaming about bears reaching into the window and yanking me about, I have slept great. Adding the extra inflatable cushions I had did the trick. Dinner has been late, which isn’t great, but it’s been relatively healthy, and my poops have been amazing! Seriously. Seriously stinky, too, even from behind a mask! It’s the vegetarian chili I made.

The first two nights I watched an episode of MTM before not being able to keep my eyes open any longer — those little edibles do their trick nicely! Last night, I spent some data and read about Telos online (after the bookstore guy suggested it was a popular subject) and then couldn’t stay awake any longer. I want to have some “spiritual” experiences or dreams, but I feel disconnected from those days somehow. And I think that is bothering/concerning me. I remember my experience at Shasta and the dreams I had after. I felt so connected. The dreams felt so real. I also think about the drumming vision and seeing Iesous. I worry that I’ve become too … practical is always the word that comes to mind. But it’s more than that.

I have enjoyed just sitting and staring. It has been soothing to my soul in a way I can’t really describe at present. Be it at the rocks in front of me, the trees, the clouds, or the hills in the distance.

I had no agenda today, other than one self tried to pressure the other self to commit to writing for several hours. But the other self won out. We were sitting here reading about vaccinations and drinking our coffee and thought, “We’re going to walk to the river bar.” So we did. I was a teensy bit concerned about bears and being all alone out there. Unrealistic concerns that other self brushed aside. And it was delightful. It was just us, the tiniest ladybug we’ve ever seen, and some very chatty seagulls imploring us to feed them.

These past three days, I’ve enjoyed going to the beach for a short spell, eating my lunch, exercising a bit, and taking a dip. I really enjoyed working out and doing a little yoga over at the secluded river bar today. To get a little sun on my usually unexposed tummy, I tucked my swimsuit top into itself, and I felt liberated from worrying about the look of my flabby, stretch-marked belly. The feeling reminded me of when I took my first naked dip in Park’s Creek at Stewart Mineral Springs. Liberated from body concerns. Liberated and empowered. In healthy ways.

In addition to feeling newly committed to my health, I’m also — even despite the self that wants to make me feel guilty about not being productive — newly committed to just being more often and to not feeling like I always have to be doing something just for the sake of doing something. Though, I did read a piece about Stacey Abrams and her new novel this morning. I didn’t know she is also a novelist! Apparently, her energy and abilities are boundless.

Looking overhead, I see a particularly wet-looking cloud. Let me check the forecast. Two percent chance of rain now until 6 am when it goes to 11 percent. The weather has been absolutely gorgeous this week. Though this is concerning. The region is far below the rainfall we should have received by now.

[I didn’t journal again during this trip to Lake Siskiyou Resort. If I had, I would have noted that in the middle of my last night, with the windows back down to let more air in, I woke to thunderous banging and repeated crashing noises very close to the car. In the morning, I wryly noted that not 25 yards from my site bears had completely overturned the very large “bear-proof” dumpsters. Thankfully they didn’t resort to reaching for the more easily accessed food in my car!]