Pine, Sage (maybe next time?! ) and Stone

I sit along the Truckee submitting myself to the elements.

nice view from the campsite

 

Kids and dad up the stream. Floating down. I wait to shoot them. I am groggy. Having slept until noon. The nights sleep restless. The ground hard and the temps a tad chillier than I was hoping and then the rising sun making things warm and snuggly. I had slept in the car nearly the entire way here. Seriously this surprises me even now and I know it happened without a doubt. But I suppose I can blame my near comatose state on a very welcome visit with Heather the night before.  Our visit began at 11pm and stretched well into the pre dawn hour. We talked spiders and divinations, life and living, new age philosophies, fairies, glass working and craft projects,  tea.. speaking of check the fantastic gift she made for me! Its a clip to keep your teabag string weighted down so it doesn't slip into your drink.

The conversations slid into addictions, old acquaintances and new, shared history, wine aerators (wow they are interesting), movies and movie making. And what sleep over isn't complete with a facial... yes. That is right. I let her have her way with her abundance of products and my face. Skin pulled tight and plump the whole time camping. Heather might come from the land of superficiality but she has got brass, moxie and smarts and is built for speed. Gotta love her despite her preoccupation with "beauty".

Anyway, so I am sitting, waiting, camera on the ready and in the meantime I observe. A family of fly fisherman quietly casting out, the residual burn of smoke in my eyes, cicadas battling for dominance in the sound game against the rolling rapids of the mucky Truckee but ultimately loosing. Drowned out. Hantavirus laden squirrel darting in and out camp, playing hide and seek with the shadows. I point,  bang and they run away.  When you have to yell to be heard, its easier to remain quiet. But then again, out here, next to the roar of the rapids, who needs to be talking anyway? There is so much to listen to. Speaking of being heard.. a holler as they hit a rapid.. here they come..

 

I even got in on the tubing fun.. And if its to small to see.. well.. to bad.

 

Later we made the quick trip in to town where we met my mother and her dear friend and we got in an archery lesson.

 

 

 It was a fun way to top off the birthday celebration. I don't think I mentioned that... Greg hit the big 40 this year. And he celebrated it in the best way possible for him. Quietly. Peacefully. Joyfully and with his family. He even got in some pleasure reading. Nearly devoured an entire novel. Called Ghost which paints an interesting and complex psychological profile of the main character. Its not a book recommended for most as the themes are quite adult. 

All of our meals pre prepped and super easy. It was deeply relaxing for all of us. 

 

 

 

And what about this campsite? We stayed at a place called Silvercreek. The pit toilets were super clean. The sites very spread out. I was quiet content with it and would return there over Whiskey Town any day. Not that Whiskey Town was bad. But it was like being at a "bring your own bed" outdoor hotel with no maid while boasting the luxury of having a goose poo filled pool. It fell short of the rustic peaceful experience I want to have when camping.

We returned home later and celebrated with Gregs favorite dinner and a spectacular and downright huge homemade birthday cake.

Anyway, I must digress.. I have a deep pile of bills and a handful of chores to attend to must get to doing. But I carry the tranquility gained in the sierra's with me as I step back into the life extraordinary.