|And this is what happens to chips at 6500 feet above sea level. Silly chips.|
|Sometimes, when you have gorgeous scenery and no willing models, |
you have to whip out the tripod and do the posing yourself.
|My laptop and I sat on these rocks and worked on my latest novel. Bliss, I tell you, bliss.|
|I finally got a chance to break out my fuzzy sock collection again.|
I'm a once per year type of camper.
The wilderness is cool and all, and we all know showering isn't my favorite activity, but three
days of sleeping in a dirty tent and peeing into a hole in the ground is really all I can take.
But I'm SO glad I sucked it up for this camping weekend at Big Bear.
Because, seriously, we were awed by how beautiful the mountains were
(and I got to see some amazing fall colors! Score!).
The weekend was awesome, except for one minor terrifying experience.
Let's start at the beginning...
So, we arrived Friday afternoon and the temperature was 70 degrees.
Jump to 9 or 10 PM and BAM...it was in the 30s. I could see my breath.
I packed 8 blankets. Literally....EIGHT.
And when I crawled into our tent to sleep (in my long underwear and sweats)
I wrapped all eight of them around me (sucks to suck, Ryan).
Luckily someone had an extra sleeping bag, because I was still so freezing
I was convinced I wasn't going to survive the first night. I thought I would perish and Yoshi and Dobby would be left to run my blog, which would've been bad news bears
because they don't know how to type.
Anyway...in the morning I convinced (read: coerced with threats) Ryan to get up
at sunrise to do a little photo session with me. A session made extra interesting
by the fact that the restrooms at our campsite had NO sinks and NO mirrors.
Oh, hey, unwashed face and unbrushed hair.
After breakfast our group split up. Some went hiking, a few went rock climbing
and I went to the top of a giant rock to take in the stunning view and do some writing
(and though I eschewed hiking, I still managed to slam my knee into a rock and bleed).
When the hikers returned to the campsite for lunch, we discovered we were one (wo)man down.
She didn't go hiking with the group and she didn't leave with the climbers and no one
had seen her since breakfast. But it was only noon, so we shrugged it off.
Fast-forward a few more hours. Five o'clock and still no word. And her cell phone was off.
And it was getting dark. We were all pretty worried. Worried enough that we called
911 and reported her as a missing hiker. They called the helicopter and had us
divide up and form a search party. It was a pretty terrifying.
Just before the Sheriff arrived, the climbing group arrived back at the campsite...
with our missing girl in tow. Apparently, she'd gone for a quick walk that morning
and jumped in with the climbers as they drove off. No one saw her get into their car and
none of them had answered their phones, which sent us into a slow panic.
Upon their return there was a serious celebration (and some apologetic phone
calls to the authorities). Definitely not something we imagined when we planned
our camping trip. Communication is key, people!
But we all survived and Ryan and I made it home
Sunday afternoon to give our puppies some big hugs and kisses after
their first weekend being home alone.
And to take some much needed showers.
Oh, shower, how I missed you so!