Matt and I left for our camping excursion early last Friday afternoon, right after I stopped at the Clinique counter in Macy’s because my Dramatically Different Moisturizing Gel supply was dangerously low. And if there’s anything I’d hate to be without for a few days in the woods, it’s a $30 bottle of face lotion.
When Matt and I were trying to decide which park to go to, we looked at a map that breaks the state down into several regions. We decided on a park in “The Pennsylvania Wilds,” because doesn’t that sound far more exciting than “Philadelphia and Countryside?”
Plus, I’ve always wondered what exactly is up there in the land between Erie and Scranton.
I got my answer this weekend.
I am not kidding when I say that you could go hours, or days, without seeing another human being. I told Matt I didn't think that I could live all the way out there and he agreed that it would certainly be quite an adjustment from suburbia. I agree that it would be a BIG TIME adjustment, meaning that I would probably spend the first several months saying, “Target is HOW FAR away?”
However. The scenery? Breathtaking. Seriously. Words don’t do it justice.
Back to the journey. About three hours in we reached the land that radio forgot, which was sad but also afforded me the opportunity to ask Matt if he had any song requests that he would like for me to perform a cappella. In a shocking twist of events, he did not.
I managed to do my fair share of singing this weekend though, despite my lack of instrumental accompaniment. On Saturday night I even tried to start a rousing campground-wide rendition of Kumbaya, but I’m sad to say it didn’t catch on. Matt didn’t even join me, although he did whisper-yell “Do you have any idea how far your voice carries in the woods?”
Also, even though I have the snazzy watch I mentioned in the last post, this weekend I learned that I tend to look at my cell phone when I need to find the time. Guess what doesn’t exist in the Pennsylvania Wilds. CELL PHONE SERVICE! So instead of looking at my watch to determine what time it was, I would just sing Chicago’s hit, “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”
If I sang it once, I sang it three hundred times. I am not exaggerating.
Upon our arrival on Friday night, we (okay, mostly Matt) set up camp, and then had a delicious dinner of homemade Philly cheese steaks, because you can take the people out of Philly but you can’t take the Philly out of the people.
Then we went to sleep because driving four and a half hours, setting up a campsite, and cooking dinner is exhausting. At least it looked that way from my position as photographer/encourager/provider of humor.
When I woke up on Saturday I tried to judge what time it was by my level of alertness. My guess was about eight thirty or nine, but in an effort to be sure, I popped my eyes open, looked over the tent at Matt, and sang “Does anybody really know what time it is?”
(Does anybody, even careeeeeeeeee?)
((ba da da daaaaaaa daaaaaaa))
Well, Matt knew. It was 6:40. SIX. FORTY. I haven’t seen the likes of 6:40 on a Saturday in, I don’t know, EVER.
But there was a day to be seized and some parachuting (for Matt) and hang gliding (for me) to do, so up we got.
JUST KIDDING. I assure you that my feet (and Matt's) stayed planted firmly on the ground the entire day. No hang gliding for me THANK YOU VERY MUCH. In fact, hang gliding now holds a place on my list of THINGS I WILL NEVER DO, right next to “eat clams” and “cheer for Ohio State.”
And that is the conclusion of part 1 of our camping trip. I would like to say that part 2 is right around the corner, but let’s be honest, there’s no guarantee of that since it took me a solid week to get part 1 together.
However, I can assure you that we had a great time, and are hoping to go again later this fall.
Preferably to a place with a radio signal.