I don’t quite believe in excursions and the great outdoors. They’re not that great or they wouldn’t be outside and excursion wouldn’t be an ex –how great could all this be? I say– why rough it when we don’t have to. The heavy gear, the pointed apparatus, nothing packing away neatly in OCD flare. “Now where do I pack this flare again–next to the rubber life saver and the inflatable camp guide called Wilson”. Why bother? That’s why God invented the Holiday Inn for all kinds of inn-side holiday fun.
Why would anybody want to run the risk of meeting up with a non-friendly bear? Why is it so alluring to eat hot dogs and dreaded beans for goodness sake. Does it make much of a difference in the ripple of life – if one knows how to pack a two-ton camp sack expertly. Will there even be time to pack at all should there be a real emergency?
Not I. I prefer shelter and the option of taking it should I wimp out and can’t manage to light a fire between where I live and our local grocer. The land where food is bought in order to be reheated in the plugged-in microwave (with a plug and a wall) and where no bear injuries are much reported – anymore.
Unless there’s a camera rolling and I’m a cast member of Survivor or Amazing Race – I’m putting my fuzzy fox slippers back on and,… “oh look…running hot water and a Sealy Posturepedic”. “Move over Grizzly Adams–wanna watch some of that sexy National Geographic DVD with me? –I knew you would!”