Camping – Dear Liza

SOAK Day 2

Dear Liza,

My first morning at SOAK, I woke up at 5 a.m. The campground was still mostly empty and totally silent. I pulled on my shoes (I had slept in most of my clothes) and went out to see what I could see.

The Tyge Valley is nestled below these incredible basalt buttes, remnants of a volcanic past. The buttes above and the river below, with all the rocky cliffs in between, caught the early light in a magical way. I took deep breaths and let the beauty and peace fill me up.

Walking back toward camp, I got my first look at some of the art and humor of SOAK, and figured we were going to get along just fine. Some of the signs included topics I don’t want to include here, but be assured that the Principle of Radical Self-Expression was on full display.

Kestrel and I had both made jellyfish hats to wear as our contribution to the festival. Kestrel wore hers during the day, but mine was mostly for night wear.

One of the Ten Principles is Radical Inclusion and Participation. We are both allowed and expected to not just SEE the festival, but to BE the festival. Living by the same principle, Auntie Katie and Douglas wandered the grounds some time every day, serenading folks who could sing along with their ukuleles. It is fun to be in all the games.

During the day I walked around with Kestrel and met some jellyfish friends and enjoyed some fresh-made pasta. Only ice is for sale at SOAK, because of the machinery needed to maintain it. Everything else, food, clothes, trinkets, anything on offer, is freely given. This reflects the Principles of Decommodofication and Gifting.

We found some out-of this-world installations that mirrored the clouds.

The main structure, which will be burned Saturday night, was getting its finishing touches. Following the Principle of Communal Effort, it takes many skilled hands to create this wonderful thing. It will be sturdy enough to climb on once it’s done.

By sundown, I had walked miles and miles around the camp, talked to dozens of nice folks, and my eyes and heart were full. It was time to tuck in.

Love,

Grandma Judy

SOAK Day 1

Dear Liza,

I promised to tell you about my first SOAK adventure, so here goes. SOAK is the northwest event connected with Burning Man, and is operated by the same folks, following the same rules. I won’t go into the ‘rules’ right now, because they are easier to understand in practice, which is how I learned them.

But first, we had to pack up and get there. Kestrel, Douglas, Jasper, me and Katie all helped with the packing of the U-Haul. There was so much stuff! Each person needs two gallons of water per day, since there is no water at the camp ground. That means our little trailer carried fifty gallons, or 400 pounds, of water. One of the Principles is Radical Self- Reliance, which means being able to tend to your own needs.

We five packed into the car and headed off up the Columbia Gorge. The long sunny afternoon made for some lovely scenery, and we took pictures out the windows.

By the time we got to Tyge Valley, it was past sundown. Fortunately, SOAK folks must have planned for some work to be done in the dark, and installed this nifty lighted archway by the path that passed through our camp.

Auntie Katie was our tireless, fearless leader.

And before long, we had five tents up and the gear stowed, and with hugs and tired kisses, we all turned in.

Coming up, Thursday morning, 5 a.m.!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Sports in Perspective

Dear Liza,

We have always been an active family. When I was young, and when your Daddy David and Auntie Katie were young, we camped and hiked.

Katie played softball for a few years and David sailed in high school.

But while watching the Olympics this week, I realize that we aren’t really a ‘sports’ oriented family. We are not competitive. We have fun whether we win or lose.

We play games to have fun, to spend time together, and to work up an appetite, more than to win.

I understand the benefits of competition, I really do, but recent year’s Olympics have shown the more harmful side of pushing young bodies to their limits, and I am glad we play just to play.

I won’t be bringing home any medals in this lifetime. And I’m okay with that.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Momma’s Journals

Dear Liza,

Your great-grandma Billie and Great-Grandpa Lowell loved to go camping. They took us kids out to the mountains or desert, or even the seaside, every weekend of our lives until brother Tim went off to the Marines, Jim got work, and I went to college. We slept on the ground in a tent, hauled water from the tap, and used whatever toilet facilities happened to be available.

The freedom to explore or fish or just do nothing, the excitement of making a fire and watching the stars come out, was one of the joys of my childhood.

As we kids grew up and the folks got older, Momma decided that sleeping on the ground was “for the birds”. They combined their skills and built a trailer from the ground up, so they could keep camping and not sleep on the ground. And when they went away for their first long haul trip, I gave Momma this Journal to write in. “Oh, I won’t have anything to say,” she said, but I nudged her a little, and she did.

The other day, I got it out. I’ve had it for years, holding on until I “had time” to read it. Well, I figured, I have time now.

It is the daily record of their trip from July 1st to the end of September, 1985. They drove up the coasts of California and Oregon, even walking out on the beach by Astoria, Oregon, to the wreck of the Peter Iredale.

This place is special to me because it is where, just a few years ago, our family got together to place both Momma and Dad’s ashes into a sand castle, to be carried out to sea. That was the end of their journey.

In 1985, however, they continued north to the Olympic Peninsula, across to Glacier National Park, then south through the Rockies and into Colorado, then turning back west to head home. They visited with Dad’s family in Washington and Momma’s in Colorado. They visited every tiny museum and national Monument in their path. They had a really good time.

What strikes me most about their adventure was how ordinary most of it was. They cooked breakfast, went for long walks, did laundry and shopping, wrote letters to grownups and post cards to grandkids. They ate out and played Scrabble and fed the ducks at parks. They rarely stayed up past ten and were usually up and about by six. They were living their normal life…. except when they took a cogwheel train to the top of Pike’s Peak or walked through the millions year old petrified forest.

In reading the Journal, I can hear Momma’s voice telling about her day. She is calm and accurate, and doesn’t get irritated (she doesn’t write about it, anyway) or frightened or worried. Her most emotional writing is saved for seeing her dear sister Hazel and describing a stunning hailstorm that caught them out on a walk.

It has been a nostalgic few days, traveling with Momma on her first long road trip. I will read some of her later Journals, and let you know if I find anything interesting.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Camping with Our Dads

Dear Liza,

Your Daddy David told me that you and your classmates got to go camping last week. I spent almost every weekend of my childhood camping, so I know how fun it is!

Your great Grandpa Lowell, my dad, was a great camper. He loved and respected the forest and desert and made sure we were responsible with our trash and our campfires. He always found just the right balance between “just like home” and “roughing it”.

Ten year old me, hydraulic engineer, and Grandma Billie

My favorite thing was playing in whatever water was around. I would make bath tubs for my troll doll, Tina, or soaking tubs for me.

Dinner, caught by Grandpa Lowell and Uncle Tim

When I graduated from High School, my mom’s gift to me was a really good typewriter. My dad’s gift was a ten-day backpacking trip in Sequoia National Park with him, Uncle Tim, and Grandpa Nelson.

What an adventure! Grandpa did all the planning, mapping us out a route that was easy hiking with good scenery, near Jerky Meadow. He made sure we all carried enough supplies but not too much weight. We took off two days after my graduation.

We started very early one morning and by that afternoon we had been passed by several badly organized groups of loud, littering hikers. They rambled through the forest with their radios blasting music, yelling and dropping gum wrappers.

“Are we gonna be stuck with them for the whole trip?” Grandpa Lowell wondered out loud.

That evening, while we were relaxing, Uncle Tim took off for a walk. He came back in about an hour. “I found our spot,” he said. We put our packs back on and followed him, cross country, for about two miles.

“This is more like it!” Dad said. We were off the trail far enough that we didn’t hear anyone else. We had a whole bend in the river to ourselves, with a sandy bank to spread out on and tall rocks to climb. It was the perfect gift for me, a ready to move out high school graduate who needed one more chunk of childhood before launching into the real world.

And while finding these pictures, I found another: Your Daddy David and Grandpa Nelson, on a hike to celebrate David’s Bar Mitzvah.

Your Daddy David and Grandpa Nelson, 1993

Love,

Grandma Judy