the camp was due north about 25 miles or so above chico. it's a long drive, over two hours long. and i got lost. i turned right in chico rather than left where i should've turned left and we went thru two small towns, hamilton city and orland, and way toward a nature preserve and lake before i realized my boo boo. i turned into the nature preserve and asked the park ranger who staffed the entrance where the hell i was. luckily he had a tablet and google maps. i thanked him and turned around heading due east for camp lassen. we were only an hour late.
the camp has no wi fi or cell coverage. it's not totally remote but it is fairly rustic. red dust covers everything. everything! by the second day the plate you are using, the clothes you are wearing, the eyeglasses you use, are so sooted up with dust you shrug your shoulders and accept the grit.
acceptance is an art. for this trip i gave in and forgot my anxiety. i had a wonderful time. but then i think, and, no boasting, i think i have a gift for joy and pleasure. the practice of acceptance plays an enormous part in this gift. call it the tao of joy, or something. i simply let go my fears and anxieties and take what comes. plans are important but so is the unexpected for what you unplan for is part of pleasure of the arts of living.
i'm still no hardcore, or softcore, camper. i am no lew welch, or gary snyyder, or also william everson. i am a california sub urban boy. so is nick but he, as i did when i was his age, loves the woods, the forests, and the adventures of a few days of sleeping outdoors.
oh, for the drive up to camp and back down to home i introduced nick to the music of the white stripes. i brought three of their albums and i swear listening to garage rock and guitar feedback cranked to 11 with your son as you drive thru rich california ag land is a measure of transcendence.