White Mountain Retreat: Pt3

Homestead Assembly Required

2023-06-22

We have decided to camp in our ol’ favorite site at the edge of the great grassy field, amongst the Arizona aspen and pines. We are here to relax and sojourn. We decide to take our time to settle in.

This is that story.

We have sat awhile; it has been a long drive with late night packing. The big canvas bell tent may take two or three hours to put together. We have our small quick and easy tent to fall back on. We do.

Setting up the tent and blowing up the light camping mattresses for a comfortable bed takes a short time and effort. After a snack, we’ll sleep, but first we just wander and enjoy this place. We’re getting re-acquainted.

There are winds, lots of wind, but not as much as down here under the tree canopy.

The Next Day:

We have work to do after our first longer walk and some exploration. The first is to produce breakfast and then to erect the tent…after we sit a spell. There is a little guitar playing in between, just because I can and it feels good.

We have to excavate numerous pieces of volcanic rock. We do find that this is the smoothest spot around, although not a flat jewel. There are a couple of significant holes and an immovable rock.

There are a few tiny aspen trees growing in our circle. I have to measure the 4 meter space. I’m determined to kill as little life as possible and leave this place as I found it, no trace.

The local residents are less conscientious. An elk, or deer, has come by to strip the tender leaves off of these tiny trees and yanked a few out of the ground with the roots. I try to repair that damage, to give them a chance. I scrape some dirt around the roots as I press down. They get a little drink from my water bottle.

An aspen will sit right next to the tent, brushing the door. I recognize it as one that was mashed under the tent three years ago and it has survived.

A lavender lily will give us a garden atmosphere just a foot from the other side. One small tree will be under the carpet patio out front. We won’t walk on that. They are crushed by snow each winter. It may make it. We need the space. I apologize and hope for the best.

I stake down the vinyl drop cloth; it marks exactly where the tent will sit. The bottom of the tent is set on top of that and then the upper set upon that. We’ll have to zipper them together before we proceed. There is a tuck in to figure , used to keep the rain and critters out. I’m glad that we set this up last week, just to iron out the little idiosyncrasies and our memories.

I get the center pole erected and begin to pound in the seeming multitudes of foot-long stakes for guy-lines. I’m dreading the subterranean rocks that will be in the way, but in the end, I’m grateful that there is only one impediment.

It is a relief to have the tent project finally together. I can unpack the truck and create the living space. I begin with the oriental rugs that are tied to the roof wrapped in plastic. Our little summer house is starting to take its comforting form. Our personal items are into the tent, so out of the truck and it too starts to become a functional “chuck wagon.”

The air is thinner and we are affected by the altitude. Energy fades, we feel out of breath. I decide that the messy stove assembly can wait until tomorrow.

The big air mattress will be next, but DF sheepishly comes to me with some bad news. The bigger bed must be blown up with the car cigarette lighter attachment. The lighter came out with her battery charger. I spend a half an hour attempting to repair it without taking apart the entire dashboard, but to no avail.  

In the end, we’ll be sleeping in an incomplete tent on the quick mattresses until we can get back to town, which would be a couple of hours driving… Oh well, let’s have lunch and go for a nude walk.

There is plenty to do. The toilet has to be set behind the best tree spot. It is simply a “luggable Loo” on a three gallon bucket and a spade for the peat moss to cover the feces. It smells like peat moss. The woods are actually a pleasant place to squat, while doing these personal chores.  

The hammock needs to be set between two trees. I finally find the new straps that I bought to protect the tree bark and with some trial and adjustment, it feels wonderful to test it. I’m comfortable and then DF climbs in to cuddle and test it herself. We test for a good while.

Next Day:

There has been a hundred pieces to arrange and sort about the campsite. Which clothing will we need tonight, flashlights, where the magazines and which books will be kept piled where. But in the tent, without that big comfy aired up bed, its warm soft sheets and cozy blankets, there is a sense of disarray.

It was cold in the evening last night. The luxury of the wood burning heater stove is a priority on today’s to do list. It gets arranged just right, to allow the smoke stack pieces to elevate in sequence through the opening of the tent roof.

That assembly needs some special duct tape to keep the rain out and it has a three point guy-line setup to keep it from blowing over.

It takes a stool and stretching.

We do okay.

I get more firewood together, small sticks and larger. Over the next few days, I’ll gather a little at a time. I love doing this. I gather the good dry and well sized wood. I get my axe out. Squatting nude and feeling earthy, I chop and split it into the best lengths. I joke daily with DF about it being a manly man’s thing and we sing a mountain man mantra, tongue in cheek.

Still, there is a sense of primeval essential connection to working with the wood. DF offers to help, but I’m enjoying myself. It isn’t a chore, but a pleasure. I offer her a break. She grabs a copy of “Archeology Magazine” and the hammock.

It will be a nice evening in the warm dry tent tonight, sitting on the soft Oriental rug with its lumps from an imperfect surface under us, close to the earth.

What does feel like a chore is figuring out how to hang a plastic shade tarp that is too big for the space over the chuckwagon. The kitchen counter is the tailgate for the SUV. I cut small pieces of rope and stretch longer ones, attaching them to the local trees and the truck.

It sags. I figure how to shore it up.

The step stool has to be just so on the uneven surfaces. After DF’s help, she stands under the structure and looks pleased.

It is shady and sometime, it will rain. In the next weeks, we huddle under it having lunch a couple of times in the rain. It saves our folding chairs from acquiring a puddle of water where we sit down.

DF, who somehow is the only one who knows where the food and kitchen tools are, gets designated with the occasional name of “Wishbone.” We remember the now ancient TV show “Rawhide” and the cook’s nickname.

After a few days, I realize that DF is doing all of the cooking and dish-washing. My serenading her with guitar, while she works, is not being equitable. I investigate the dish-washing arrangement that she has set up. I have to do my part.

She has taken to a spot away from the camp where three old stumps have become tables. We carry a couple of bowls of precious water over with soap. She washes, I rinse and quality check with my second opinion, when a spot might be missed.

She has brought these “Girl Scout” bags to dry the kitchenware. They are old knitted hot pads sewn together to make a bag. There is a string webbed through it to cinch it up and to hang it on a tree branch. I place the rinsed dishes in there to dry. They work brilliantly. Girl Scouts used to make them, back when DF was a Girl Scout.

Washing dishes is no fun, but her system works.

I have a computer to keep charged. We have our phones. There are phone relay towers in nearly direct sight on the 10,000 foot Green Mountain. We’re getting internet on her phone.

Weather reports from the National Weather Service are important. We call in each day to check for any fire activity. One day, there is a series of helicopters dipping big bags into Canero Lake to put out a smoky plume. It’s just a few miles west of us. This is not a big worry, because the strong wind is from the south and Mexico this time of year. The phone recording reassures us.

I have a solar charger and extra batteries for the equipment. It sits out on the ground, but only works facing directly at the sun in-between clouds.

Inefficient, but it works out.

After five or six days, it is time to go to town to buy block ice for the cooler and replenish our drinking water and any other needs. Today, it is a quest for an adapter for the cigarette lighter style air blower for the big mattress and pizza.

We get fresh vegetables and the other needs and we feast. We have found a recycling center to drop off our two small bags of garbage, poo and recycling. Next time, I’ll stop at the library while we do laundry and research on the computer, getting a free charge.

Home Sweet Home:

We return, set up the new charger and blow up the mattress.

Our bed is slid into position in the tent and I unzip a couple of fresh air windows. I make our bed, lay down with DF and we both approve, relax and test it some more.

After some time, we arrange the house, set up our lounging chairs and it is very pleasant. This evening, we light a fire and a couple of candles and play with the Gong Hee Fot Choy fortune telling in the toasty heat of our tent. It feels like a home.

I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.

© The owners of TheFreeRangeNaturist.org as of the year 2015 declare. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to TheFreeRangeNaturist.org with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.