G
Guest
Guest
A Brad post got me thinking about end of camp habits.
Leaving a tidy pile of processed firewood. There is some quid pro quo there; if I arrived to find a plentiful pile of tinder, squaw-wood and a few spilt logs I’m more likely to leave something similar in quantity. But I’ll always leave at least enough of a tidy pile to get a fire started and feed it a bit, even if what I found on arrival was a Brad favorite pile of green branches and my beloved wet sock and decaying, sponge sodden log.
I love the tripper tradition of leaving the makings for a fire. I love seeing it awaiting me as a site gift, and love leaving same. It says something about the folks who were here before me, and hopefully influences the folks behind me. I can’t think of another pay-it-forward tradition I so often encounter, or cherish as much.
(I do leave the coupons I find I can’t use atop their respective foodstuffs in the grocery store, but it’s just not the same under fluorescent lighting)
Last scan of camp. After everything is dry bagged or barreled. Actually after everything is in or near the canoes, and camp is “clean”. I make a last sweep/scan to make absolutely certain that I have everything. OK, sometimes I walk back up to camp to look twice, and leave once.
I think the only thing I have overlooked in the past 10 year was a short length of damnable green paracord auxiliary clothesline. I eventually learned that the bright yellow stuff is harder to overlook. Or walk into.
Last scan of the launch/landing. Also done twice if I can; once from land and, if possible, once from an on-water vantage view of the launch as I depart. At that point, settling myself into the canoe, I really don’t want to espy anything left on shore and have to disembark again.
Most of the semi-weird breaking camp habits are old family tripping customs, some going back to my childhood.
Family gear staging. Before we commence much in the way of packing we spread a cheap nylon tarp on the ground and, as each of us stuffs their sleeping bag and clothes and packs their tent or hammock, we pile our gear on our respective corner quadrant of the tarp.
Then the gear goes into the correct dry bags for each boat, so we all have our own necessities aboard, and there isn’t an accumulation of stuff bag clinging pine duff, sand or dirt deposited inside the dry bags.
Well, not just family trips; I do that gear pile on (smaller) aux tarp or tent ground cloth even when solo. Laying it out for purview preview helps get it in the right bags, especially as consumables diminish on a long trip and the load becomes alt-packing more compact.
10 pieces of trash. We started this when the boys were toddlers, and still do so out of tradition. And familial competition. Each person needs to find 10 pieces of trash on the morning we pack up to leave. Since we tend to do site cleanup continually, picking up wee bits when we see them, that game can be challenging on a picked clean site after a day or two.
Think twist ties, or those square plastic tabs on bread wrappers, or wee scraps of WTF-was-this oddball plastic. And my personal favorite, cigarette butts. I alone in the family smoke, so those disgusting ciggie-buttskie-filters, while not mine, can quickly add up to ten disgusting pieces no one else wants to pick up.
Score, I found 8 miss-flicked butts scattered around the fire pit alone.
Group site inspection. If I am camped with friends, and even more so with random folks on a group site, I do an inspection of every vacant site before I leave. Which is often all the sites; I don’t mind being the last to launch in a group and often linger, sometimes for an extra day or two, especially on solo trips when camped amidst group site strangers.
I have found all manner of surprises on group sites. Enough that I will always take a walk-around before I leave.
Most often I find trash. Or failed gear that that idiots managed to paddle in with and then left behind.
Sometimes unfailed gear. Seriously, you paddled in with that that POS $5.99 Wal-Mart camp chair and left it as what, a “gift” to the next person? Asshat; I don’t need another cheap folding camp chair.
Sometimes not a camp chair; Willie and I found a very nice 4-legged office chair in a Waccamaw swamp pine hummock camp. I paddled it out, along with a mountain of other site trash (empty propane cans, a freaking fire extinguisher, and etc), in full Beverly Hillbilly mode, with the chair tied in the bow, praying there would be no strainers or limbo logs anywhere downriver.
https://www.google.com/search?q=bev...=GIbKWeX5CKuh0wKOt67QAw#imgrc=uiaFsNTEQtWohM:
Nice chair, still in use today.
Scariest thing I have found – a ¾ full plastic bottle of charcoal lighter fluid. Left atop the grate of a fire ring. In a dry pine forest. Just above a wind-renewed flickering yellow flame of an undoused campfire. I said the F word. Several times.
Leaving a tidy pile of processed firewood. There is some quid pro quo there; if I arrived to find a plentiful pile of tinder, squaw-wood and a few spilt logs I’m more likely to leave something similar in quantity. But I’ll always leave at least enough of a tidy pile to get a fire started and feed it a bit, even if what I found on arrival was a Brad favorite pile of green branches and my beloved wet sock and decaying, sponge sodden log.
I love the tripper tradition of leaving the makings for a fire. I love seeing it awaiting me as a site gift, and love leaving same. It says something about the folks who were here before me, and hopefully influences the folks behind me. I can’t think of another pay-it-forward tradition I so often encounter, or cherish as much.
(I do leave the coupons I find I can’t use atop their respective foodstuffs in the grocery store, but it’s just not the same under fluorescent lighting)
Last scan of camp. After everything is dry bagged or barreled. Actually after everything is in or near the canoes, and camp is “clean”. I make a last sweep/scan to make absolutely certain that I have everything. OK, sometimes I walk back up to camp to look twice, and leave once.
I think the only thing I have overlooked in the past 10 year was a short length of damnable green paracord auxiliary clothesline. I eventually learned that the bright yellow stuff is harder to overlook. Or walk into.
Last scan of the launch/landing. Also done twice if I can; once from land and, if possible, once from an on-water vantage view of the launch as I depart. At that point, settling myself into the canoe, I really don’t want to espy anything left on shore and have to disembark again.
Most of the semi-weird breaking camp habits are old family tripping customs, some going back to my childhood.
Family gear staging. Before we commence much in the way of packing we spread a cheap nylon tarp on the ground and, as each of us stuffs their sleeping bag and clothes and packs their tent or hammock, we pile our gear on our respective corner quadrant of the tarp.
Then the gear goes into the correct dry bags for each boat, so we all have our own necessities aboard, and there isn’t an accumulation of stuff bag clinging pine duff, sand or dirt deposited inside the dry bags.
Well, not just family trips; I do that gear pile on (smaller) aux tarp or tent ground cloth even when solo. Laying it out for purview preview helps get it in the right bags, especially as consumables diminish on a long trip and the load becomes alt-packing more compact.
10 pieces of trash. We started this when the boys were toddlers, and still do so out of tradition. And familial competition. Each person needs to find 10 pieces of trash on the morning we pack up to leave. Since we tend to do site cleanup continually, picking up wee bits when we see them, that game can be challenging on a picked clean site after a day or two.
Think twist ties, or those square plastic tabs on bread wrappers, or wee scraps of WTF-was-this oddball plastic. And my personal favorite, cigarette butts. I alone in the family smoke, so those disgusting ciggie-buttskie-filters, while not mine, can quickly add up to ten disgusting pieces no one else wants to pick up.
Score, I found 8 miss-flicked butts scattered around the fire pit alone.
Group site inspection. If I am camped with friends, and even more so with random folks on a group site, I do an inspection of every vacant site before I leave. Which is often all the sites; I don’t mind being the last to launch in a group and often linger, sometimes for an extra day or two, especially on solo trips when camped amidst group site strangers.
I have found all manner of surprises on group sites. Enough that I will always take a walk-around before I leave.
Most often I find trash. Or failed gear that that idiots managed to paddle in with and then left behind.
Sometimes unfailed gear. Seriously, you paddled in with that that POS $5.99 Wal-Mart camp chair and left it as what, a “gift” to the next person? Asshat; I don’t need another cheap folding camp chair.
Sometimes not a camp chair; Willie and I found a very nice 4-legged office chair in a Waccamaw swamp pine hummock camp. I paddled it out, along with a mountain of other site trash (empty propane cans, a freaking fire extinguisher, and etc), in full Beverly Hillbilly mode, with the chair tied in the bow, praying there would be no strainers or limbo logs anywhere downriver.
https://www.google.com/search?q=bev...=GIbKWeX5CKuh0wKOt67QAw#imgrc=uiaFsNTEQtWohM:
Nice chair, still in use today.
Scariest thing I have found – a ¾ full plastic bottle of charcoal lighter fluid. Left atop the grate of a fire ring. In a dry pine forest. Just above a wind-renewed flickering yellow flame of an undoused campfire. I said the F word. Several times.