Greetings from Rock Island State Park in northern Wisconsin. Jesse and I are camping at the place that alternates between being “our favorite place on Earth” and “Hell.” It all depends on whether or not we get stuck with loud neighbors. So far, so good in that department. Phew. All we can hear right now is the wind.
We got here a few hours ago, set up our site, ate some chips and hopped in the tent. It’s not even 8:30 p.m. and we’re tucked in for the night. No campfire this evening because it’s too windy.
We’re on a cliff that overlooks Lake Michigan. Stunning views. I recently read a book (Siri, Who Am I? by Sam Tschida) where one of the characters said he liked views that overlook large bodies of water because “you can see your enemies coming.”
I agree.
To be clear, the wind is not my enemy. The wind is my therapist, knocking all kinds of good sense into me.
Lake Michigan, thanks to the wind, has been tossing up huge waves with whitecaps for most of the day. The current is so strong that the weather authorities issued a “beach hazard.” That means no one was or is allowed in or on the waters. Well, maybe they’re “allowed” but it’s certainly not advised. The current could easily pull a swimmer under and the waves would cause certain shipwreck. We saw it happen here last summer. Somebody stayed out on the water past the warning and, in the morning, the boat was on its side, totally demolished on the rocks. It looked awful.
The wind is racing around us at 30 mph. Between the wind, tent and the lake, it’s noisy. There is a lot of…flapping.
I just checked. According to the “decibel meter” app on my iPhone, the loudness levels from the flapping are commensurate with a running vacuum cleaner or food blender. Hey, who doesn’t want to be surrounded by that when they’re camping on a remote island?
At least it’s still light outside. That means I’m not scared but I probably will be once darkness sets in. Camping makes me feel safe and alive…until it doesn’t. But dealing with my fears is part of what I like about camping.
We don’t camp very often. Once or twice a summer and it’s always hit or miss depending on our camping “neighbors.” Most of the time we have quiet neighbors but we’ve been stuck next to some obnoxious partiers a couple times. Now when we camp, when I see my enemies coming with their multiple tents, coolers filled with beer, lighter fluid and loud music, we immediately pack up and leave. I’m sure there are others who would put up a fight, but not us.
Sometimes I’m not sure why we risk our precious free time on camping.
Well, I know why I risk it. I love reading and writing while I camp. There’s something about it that makes me feel silly, serious and free all at once. And I love camping coffee. We got a new coffee pot for this trip and we can’t wait to break it in tomorrow morning. Oh, and I love the feeling of being outside for several days in a row. It unspools all my tension. Even though it’s loud, all this tent-flapping seems to be batting the stress out of me. Amazing. Next time you see me I’m gonna be hella peaceful.
The darkness has set in. It’s close to 10:00 p.m. I’m going to have to zip up the tent. The rain will be here soon and I’ll probably start “hearing footsteps” outside our tent. I always do. I always imagine there’s a creep with a hunchback running around our campsite, sniffing things he shouldn’t be sniffing. Generally speaking, I have a pretty good imagination, but it really comes alive at night when I’m camping.
Thanks for reading. Writing this has made me sleepy. Hopefully it has a relaxing effect on you, too. -Connie
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Constance Kuntz 