Including much forest football, a few beers, a trip to Pizza Hut, and a single glaring incident of buffoonery, there was little that happened down at camp this last weekend that could be considered unexpected. But it was defniitely a good time.
On orders from The Clogger, I was down to camp by 9 am Saturday morning. That meant getting up at 4:20 after having guests over till late on Friday night and not going to bed till 12:45. Additionally, that was after having gone to bed post-12:00 am every night the previous week. So I came into camp a little bleary-eyed. Unbelievably, I had held off from a coffee purchase until Waverly. No Twin Cities coffee shops are open at the hour in which I left town, but there is nothing but gas stations and Perkins-clones the entire distance between the F.O.B. and destination. Around Mason City I started struggling a bit, but thoughts of that one funky, ethnic coffee shop we all had stopped in for our last visit kept me truckin'. I was very disappointed when it wasn't there where I expected it to be upon my arrival. I stopped at a place called "Higher Grounds" just across from the Wartburg campus, but their coffee was kept in those giant gas-station-style warmers and they served it in a styrofoam cup. Predictably, it tasted pretty shitty. But enough about coffee.
I rolled into camp at 9:00 on the fucking dot. Reminded me of how on-time I used to be for everything, especially trips, pre-Sharon. Cory had already set up at the cabin (Arrow-the one farthest from HQ that overlooks the big ridge). We loaded supplies into the cabin. Perhaps due to extreme tiredness, I had forgotten my camera (rats-no movies to be made nor no pictures to be took). But I did bring two bottles of October ale and four bottles of Winter Ale to help us ring in the fall Equinox. I also brought a fishing pole and a single weedless spoon lure. We then wasted no time in tramping on down to the confluence of Wikota Creek & the Cedar where we cast a few in. I should have brought my logless lure, however, as I was hung up and lost the damned thing after about six casts. I then borrowed a lure from Cory and lost that on the very first cast. That was enough for me. Cory didn't lose a lure, but caught no more fish then me. We then kind of just pulled up and kicked down at that spot for awhile. Next to the pine forest; and perhaps instead of the pine forest, ever since its thinning-out; this is my favorite spot at camp. It's a great flyover for migrating birds-and we saw a few. Cory spotted a great blue heron nest, and we just watched clouds roll overhead as we sat there in t-shirts in the unbelievably warm November day. As planned, we had a nice and in-depth conversation about religion. Neither of us probably giving the other much more information that has been given before, but rolling our various thoughts into as concise-a package as we could. I think it ends with the "irreconcilable difference" being our take on the Salvation. A couple things I was probing for were "do you think non-Christians go to hell" and "how did you arrive where you're at, belief-wise," and (not that he was on trial or anything) I think Cory addressed them to my satisfaction. In his focus & comittment to exploring his faith, I challenged him to become a self-educated "professor of theology;" to read texts and explore other faiths in an effort to understand the context and history of his own religion. It will probably meet success like my encouraging of Mighty Tom to get back into the field of natural resources, but hey-I'm the self-appointed life-coach of my friends-it's what I do.
We then headed back to the cabin and got the rock for a couple of hours of forest football. Generally good stuff, with a couple of amazing 4th-down tosses by me (including a 40-yarder that threaded a couple of trees to get to Cory, waiting around the corner of a path). We also discovered a box of tiles over at the archery range and took a few shots at exploding individual ones we set up on a fence. A little destructive and pointless, perhaps, but thoroughly irresistable.
Then off to Waverly for pizza. Only remarkable thing about that is how we restrained ourselves and went with a single medium pizza (in addition to the family order of breadsticks). Then, heading back through town-with some rain starting to come down and me desperately needing a cup of coffee (I ended up drinking very little of the cup I'd had earlier), Cory noticed a place. We went in and: LO! BEHOLD! It was that funky place, after all, in a new, downtown location. We had a nice conversation with the lady, and Cory even bought an overpriced (but tasty) cup of hot chocolate, and may have had a moment of truly appreciating the case of the small, locally-owned single proprietorship, as she explained that she's just not getting business. Unfortunately, an African-themed world cafe just isn't bringing in those white-bread Wartburg business administration majors. I do think she'll make it over time, though...
Then it was back to camp for a game of "who drops the ball," which Cory won-even disregarding the single controversial decision that would have brought me closer. Then it was off on a late afternoon, early evening hike with the weather threatening. This is the one where we hopped a fence or two and went along the creek. When we emerged (and really-Cory's got to take the majority of blame for this-I had no clue where we were and he knew exactly), we were far, far out of camp property. While hiking back in its general direction, we were met with the heil of "Would you mind telling me what the fuck you're doing out here?" The big buffoonery. We were walking right under the tree stand of a hunter that had been watching us for a long, long time. He may have stretched the truth of the degree to which we screwed up his hunt, but we definitely didn't help him. As much as it may have been Cory getting us into the mess, all credit to him for one of the most classic exchanges in history. When he demanded our names, Cory said, "Cory...what's yours?" to which the guy had no alternative but to give him his: "Dave." After we were on a first-name basis, things were diffused considerably, and we gave him profuse apologies and he pointed us in the right direction (which Cory already knew). When I look back and consider that we were walking around, not in blaze-orange, on private forest land a week into the deer-hunting season in a northeast Iowa forest, it may have been the dumbest thing either Cory or me has done in recent memory-maybe ever. I think my illicit fence-hopping days are over. It was after that (or before that, I don't remember) when we stopped by the top of Challenge Hill. Nice view over the river bottoms, and I took the Challenge upon myself and sprinted, as much as one can sprint up loose sand, all the way up. Cory took on the challenge of talking to his wife yet a third time in the day-good Lord does the man call home a lot!
Back to camp again and a decision about whether to head to town (yet again!) for supper. It'd been a late lunch, and tornado warnings/watches were abounding. We ended up deciding we'd be super hungry late at night if we didn't go in, so we did. We brought back a sub for me, & some Hardees for Johnny Seedcorn. Found out the worst of the weather would miss us, got the fire going, & played some chess (which I won). We listened to some Cyclones (Cory's idea) and some music (my idea), and talked to 12'4" of Pat. Talked some more, and off to bed.
Next morning, we had exchanged minds. Cory was up early and ready to go out for a hike. I was snuggled in my sleeping bag complaining about the cold. We ended up getting caught in a conversation by the long-winded, but great, ranger. Tossed the football a few more times, and headed into town for, perhaps, the worst small-town diner in which I've ever eaten. The "cheese omlette" consisted of a couple of scrambled eggs with a melted cheese-slice on top. And that was that.
I do feel compelled to say that I think I may be ready for an Ingawanis hiatus. It's a neat slice of land, but it IS pretty darn developed and there's so much-SO MUCH- more out there in the world to give you your nature-fix. Even in the little world of northeast Iowa, there's so much more. Staying in the cabin is OK-but really, it's only OK. The cots are terrible, and every flat surface is peppered with rat shit. I'd rather camp-and really camp and achieve the solitude, which is one of the main reasons for being out in the wilds, or just go out for a day of romping through wood & vale & return to comfort of home or hotel. I understand the connection Cory & to a lesser degree, Gibbs, has with the place-but (though we've created our own history there on a few occasions), the connection is really just not there nearly as much for me.