Saturday, July 18, 2009

The Solo Camp - Lake Pepin

June 19

I continue to surprise myself. I'm surprised by how comfortable I am out here. Families all around me. Do I miss mine? Strangely, no. This is different. A different feel from the campsites I've shared with family over the years. Different, even, from camping with friends.

One chair. One tent. One cooler. One sleeping bag. One. One. One. Sometimes when strangers cross my path here and give me that friendly half smile ... I feel like they know something about me. Know I am out here on my own and that's where I want to be.

I already made a best friend forever. Her name is Quinn. She's about four feet tall and rocks the kind of blond, angelic locks that I used to have as a kid. I helped her learn how to ride a bike. While asking for my help, she told me "I'm not used to my new 20" rims". Ahhh, Quinn.

I had a book discussion with a mother on the beach. She thought I should give The Yiddish Policeman a try.

I've only been here for like 5 hours! I'm already talking to anyone that will listen.

At the doctors office the other day, getting a shot, the nurse asked about my plans for the weekend. I told her I was taking myself camping. She sounded surprised by my solo adventure. Told me she'd be scared to do something like that herself. Then she said the most peculiar thing, "I bet you're the type of person that makes friends where ever she goes."

I laughed at that ridiculous thought. I've never been one to make much of an impression on strangers. Never really liked strangers as a matter of fact. Never had many friends... That's what drives me to Belize alone. To join stupid clubs. To hike 14 miles alone. To camp solo. To throw myself into online dating hell.

But somewhere alone this quest to be comfortable in my own skin. To stop waiting for the world to come to me. Stop waiting for opportunity and create my own. To live free of everything else and live happily solely within myself ... somewhere along that quest... I'm getting better at everyone else.

I'm flipping talking to every stranger I meet!

GEEK TALK

Marita would be proud of me. I finally bought that pair of binoculars that have been sitting in my Amazon shopping cart since I returned from Belize. I even rush delivered them to get a trial run in this weekend. A package appears just before I leave town at noon. I have officially geeked my pants!

All that's left is the bird book. That's one bit of Belize I will keep with me. My sudden interest in birding! Oh LORD! I got to use them today. Starting my cooking fire I noticed a giant bird swooping into a nearby tree. I run for my binoculars. Yes, run. Binocs in hand (that's what we cool folks call them, binocs) I set to check this beast of a bird out. A mere 20 feet from my site has a dozen, giant turkey vultures perches on it's low branches. A worth first magnified siting.


The beach is beautiful. The cold water has a sudden drop off, free from the tottering two year olds and splashing nine year olds. Beyond that drop off is a wall of sailboats. Past the sails are green bluffs that stretch further than you see.

A muggy, sweaty day is always better lakeside. Except when it starts to snow from the cottonwood trees. The pollen clumps are sticking to every inch of my sweaty skin. With my face half buried in my beach towel I couldn't help but think, "Wow, that's beautiful but man is it disgusting".

My walk back to camp was a route less traveled. The park is a bit of a peninsula and you can follow the beach all the way around to the far sites. I don't know why everyone goes for the main road. Local Native Americans are fishing right off the beach. A pair of men were perches on a piece of drift wood and smiled as I approached. I asked what they were catching. In broken English he told me he wasn't sure but held his hands up to show a decent sized catch. He waves his arms to tell me to follow him. He's pointing into the water. Water that just looks like water. No bucket of fish or anything. I follow him and for a second wonder why I'm talking to strange men and doing what they ask of me. He walks me up to a piece of driftwood when I notice a white rope attached to it. He lifts the white line and pulls up a good sized fish (I learned nothing snorkeling, I can't tell you what it was... I'll pretend my ignorance stems from the freshwater). The mutually unknown species of fish is lassoed through it's gill. I've never seen a fish on a leash before. I have since learned there's a name for this... it evades me. Not a very good student.

And .... another train passes....