A Camp Fire

 High Sierras, Sept 2016

 

The alarm goes off and I crack open my eyes at first, then strain slightly to see in the dark.  I can make out the grey outside the windows surrounding me, but don’t see any lights or sounds of movement. I listen carefully; nope, no one else is up yet.  It is cold, but I am eager to get out of my sleeping bag, get dressed quickly and be up.  Partly because I have to pee, but mostly because we have drawn coveted X zone tags in the California High Sierras and there are big deer not far away! The big challenge now tho is getting dressed quickly, the need for speed increases with each movement, while inside the camper shell, with only the light from a small flashlight.  I am alone in my truck, but surrounded by all my gear and clothing, it is tough to find what you want when it all looks the same in the half-light!

            There is still an hour before sunrise. Once I am up and out, I can hear Shane moving around inside his truck/camper/tent contraption, Adrian and Visilli are still snoring softly in their tent.    I move over to the fire pit and pick up a stick and begin to stir the coals.  It is in the low 30’s here at 8500 feet elevation and there is moisture in the air, the meadow next to camp is cloaked in a dark and heavy fog. The long meadow is ringed by ridges reaching up to 10,000 feet, and in the daylight, I feel as though I am in one of Gods great cathedrals.   The coals quickly become visible, glowing red in the grey and black of the ashes from last nights fire.  I find some little sticks and begin to feed it back to life, hearing the cracks, pops and hisses of the little fire.

            As I stand there by my little fire, alone for the moment, in the cold pre dawn light I remember a hundred other campfires, and million memories swirl through my mind at once as the smoke moves around me and the little flames begin to spread their warmth. I am 48 years old now, though I don’t always feel like it, and started camping in the Sierras when I was 6 months old with my family.  A campfire brings so much to life’s experience.  Some of my best memories involve campfires, and some scary ones, and even an expensive one!   I remember when my grandfather gave me the nickname Dusty when I was 6 years old because I was shuffling my feet around the fire pit and kicking up dust.  I remember the time my Dad was filling the lantern that had a leak in the bottom he didn’t know about and it almost started a forest fire as the flames raced across our campsite, and I remember the ticket I got once too while camping with my nephew.

            There is such a connection with the mountains and the wild when you sit by a campfire.  I think of my ancestors on my Cherokee grandmother’s side and other natives who were here in these same mountains a hundred or so years ago, when a fire meant staying alive during the freezing winter nights, the Hunters and explorers who crossed this land and cooked their meals and told stories around a campfire.  The giant trees around me now may have witnessed some of these occurrences first hand.  I think of my grandfather and my parents who are now gone, but feel as though they are still here with me when I am alone at a campfire in the dark.  I can still see the sparkle of light in my grandfathers eyes from the dancing flames of the fire as he talked about the days fishing and what Yosemite was like before the tourists came.  I think of past hunts and trips with close friends who have passed and gone on to the campfires in the sky, they are here too in the smoke and warmth.  And I think of the friends I haven’t shared a campfire with yet and hope it will mean as much to them as it will to me.  I love to be by a fire.

            The fire is going good now and I can feel the warmth penetrating into me, my memories and friends in the smoke are helping with that. There is something magical about poking a fire with a stick.

   I hear Shane throw open the flap on the back of his truck/camper/tent and holler ‘Praise the lord for another blessed day!”  And so another great day of memories begins, with a campfire.