We're camping with the Cub Scouts tonight. We took a ferry to an island in the Puget Sound. We love this trip, so even though we've graduated to Boy Scouts, we invited ourselves to come. Even though we got here late, Mike made a great stew, a chili sort of meal in the Dutch oven. Nick ate five bowls and one of the other boys came around after his dinner and had some too. It was good, but I know that being outside, even for a little while, is good for the appetite. I had peppermint tea in my thermos. The other part of the meal was that it was good to be eating hot food since its damp and in the mid-forties tonight.
I found myself telling stories of when Mike and I were in the Adirondacks and I made oatmeal pancakes on the fourth morning out and everybody loved them. A couple of weeks later, I tried making them at home and they were gross. It's funny what hunger does to your taste buds.
We joined another guy and his son around their camp fire and the boys got to playing in the fire.
Stories were passing back and forth, so I told them about when we were in Alaska, how the ground was so dry, you could hold your hand eight inches above the dirt and bits of static dust would rise to cling to your hand. The trees seemed ready to burst into flame. The day we left the Kenai peninsula, they had begun to evacuate people from the forest because of a forest fire. I was just happy I hadn't started that fire.
Boy, I have to stop for now. I'm shivering in my sleeping bag and bivy sack and need to tuck in and zip up.
Thank you for listening, jb