Overcoming Bloglessness

Hunting Camp


In the good old days we set up camp in our favorite campsite every October. It was a secluded cul-de-sac in the woods by the Little river with all the pretty rocks. We had an elaborate camp; a mess tent and a sleeping tent with a tarped-off foyer in between. The other guys laughed at our “doilies”, but it was just colorful afghans over the sleeping bags. It was about as comfortable as tent camping gets. We had a woodstove, a shower and port-a-potty. No hairdryer. That was the worst part.

Mr. Raven would wake up well before dawn, stoke the fire and get coffee going. I stayed cozy in my sleeping bag, lulled by the hiss of the lantern until the tent warmed up and coffee was ready. After a leisurely hour, it was boots and saddles. We didn’t have horses, but Mr. Raven always said “Boots and saddles!” when it was time to load up the truck and go.

“To the peak, Zeke!” He always said as we drove through the still dark forest, headed for Lick Creek or Skookum or maybe Old Stove road. It depended on where the other guys were going. We knew all the other guys that camped nearby. Same bunch, every year. Grandpas and dads and their sons and brothers; they’d all been hunting together since Mr. Raven was a kid. A few wives came along, but they were wives who stayed in camp all day.

People used to think I went along to do the cooking. Are you kidding? The guys did all that. I went for the camping and the chance to be outdoors with my husband for two weeks, away from work and kids. At first I didn’t imagine I’d actually become a hunter. But he bought me a lever action Winchester 30-30 and he taught me how to shoot and, turns out, I’m a pretty good shot.

Remember when I found that horse? Remember when Marvin fell in the river? Remember that couple that lived in a teepee? Remember the sheep herders’ dog? Remember that spike elk that looked like a red-eyed devil? Remember that time it snowed so much we had to wake up every hour to clear the tent roof? Remember that year the Forest Service burned us out?

I miss that old hunting camp. Lots of good memories, down there by the Little river with all the pretty rocks. Those were the good old days.

Daily Prompt
Salad Days.


Author: Susan B Raven

For many years I have suffered from debilitating bloglessness, only writing in my head, while everyone else posted and shared with ease. Previous attempts at recovery have failed, my secret journals edited to death, pages torn out, crumpled and trashed. I will not succumb to this embarassing condition. I will continue to struggle against the rampant backspacing and endless blank staring. I refuse to relapse into the void that is bloglessness. I can do it. I am doing it. I am Overcoming Bloglessness.

8 thoughts on “Hunting Camp

  1. Those were definitely good old days. πŸ™‚

    • And I didn’t even mention sunrise in the forest or campfires under the milky way.

      • Thanks — that would’ve gone beyond the prompt, It would’ve been the wonderful old days, not just the good ones.

        • Also not mentioned, breaking camp. Ugh! It’s too much work for us now.

          • I know the feeling. Maybe that’s what makes them the good old days; back then it was good, but now we’re old. πŸ˜‰ I used to love sleeping in a sleeping bag out in the open night and now I know too much to like that. I know about rattlesnakes and bears and shaking hundreds of scorpions out of your bag in the morning. It was good not to think about consequences.

  2. Pingback: Life Is Beautiful | Rahul Creatrix's Blog

  3. “To the peak, Zeke” that should be a title, or something. A book. Yeah, a book. Lovely writing, thanks Susan B.

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