Written By PATTY OLDER | Photos Provided
Who cares about a little wind and rain? Originally from Florida, I wasn’t going to let a wayward hurricane stop me.
So, I left work early trying to beat the remnants of Debby and packed my Jeep for my latest adventure – three nights camping at a site above Indian Lake.
I had been planning the trip since my maiden camping voyage where I spent four nights in one of the most remote campsites in Acadia National Park with my two partners in crime, Bonnie & Clyde. This time I wanted to challenge myself even more by going to a primitive site.
A new-to-me canoe – a lightweight Hornbeck - helped me focus on an area I had canoed with a friend last year – Cedar River Flow.
Despite my best efforts, I found myself packing my Jeep as the first bands of the storm moved into the area. I had made up my mind earlier in the week I was still going no matter the forecast – if I let a little rain deter me, what else was I going to miss in life because of a little discomfort?
I wasn’t always an adventurer running into storms.
My husband’s death four years ago changed my world and everything I knew it to be. The landscape of my life was nearly unrecognizable. The first two years I was on autopilot as I waited for my life to return.
I just didn’t know how to rearrange it into something recognizable.
Most people believe they know and understand grief. We feel for the person who has lost somebody important to their lives, but until you have grief as your own companion, it is impossible to know how it colors every moment of every day.
Last year I had an epiphany and I understood moving forward was going to require me to develop an enhanced version of myself. I was seeking a new “normal.”
A meandering 3,200-mile road trip to Florida with my pups last fall was life-changing. I emerged empowered and confident. Friends embraced my adventures and encouraged me to chart my own stars.
I looked to tent camping as a way to travel and see new places and not drain the bank. It would afford me the ability to explore what I am capable of, while also enjoying nature and the outdoors.
Hurricane or not, I wasn’t going to waste any time over a little wind and rain.
Debby’s blustering rain began at Cedar River Flow as I pulled into a camping spot with a small pathway to the water. It was tucked away, level and had a firepit and picnic table.
The storm closed the road for a day, but it also kept the camping area relatively quiet. During my excursion, I explored a 22-mile seasonal road – Moose River Plains - where I discovered more possible future campsites, some nestled by picturesque streams and small lakes.
While I stayed relatively dry (a cot helps), I discovered starting a fire after a downpour takes new tricks, voices carry a very long way over bodies of water and canoeing in the Hornbeck was going to require a learning curve.
During my stay, I managed to have a fire, read, canoe and hike. I cooked my meals fireside, had coffee and snuggled in the warmth of my sleeping bag with my dogs nearby at night. I actually slept, soundly.
I came away from the experience refreshed and renewed with a growing sense of self, and already planning my next challenge, a several days trip through Blue Ridge Parkway and Skyline Drive in October.
As for rain, I now know life gets infinitely clearer after a storm, whether a hurricane or a life-altering event. The air is cleaner, the landscape becomes enriched in color and the mind grows sharper.
No, a little storm isn’t going to stop me.
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