Baja-rrific!

Saturday morning we woke to the sound of a heavy driving rain and thunder. So of course we decided to go camping. We bought a pop-up camper about this time last year and Quinn celebrated his 1 month birthday wrapped in wool blankets as it snowed on our campfire. When I was a kid we had a decked-out van with carpet and wood paneling that we'd take camping on the Oregon coast. It was groovy. And damp. Always damp. Anyway, through the years Jim and I have finally assembled a comfortable collection of camping paraphanelia that allow us to eat and sleep well while communing with nature. But then two kids come along and a two-person tent feels like a mosh pit full of toddlers. And changing diapers in the dirt is great fun for me until I have to dig pine needles out of Pooey's bung-holio. So there have been some changes.

Last year we were driving around Missoula on a nice Saturday and as we cruised through the RV and used-car section of Broadway we were startled out of our 18-pancake breakfast coma by a vision in white and black. It was The Baja. We've all seen pop-up campers, right? They look a little like folding card tables on wheels. And when popped up they look like an adult teeter-totter. But not The Baja. Oh my holy shit The Baja is COOL! It's got huge meat tires, nickle-plating accents, a sink, stove, table and sleeps 8! When popped up it's got a queen bed on one side and a king on the other and it has a CD player! We bought it within an hour and were soon cruising around town with the behemoth behind our pickup. And now we camp like 50-year-old retirees.

Our trip this weekend was a quickie. Jim bought a Gazetteer, which is an intricately detailed map of every square inch of Montana. I'm not sure if he's shaved in a week, because I've only seen the top of his head and occassionally his eyebrows over the top of this giant map book. He picked out a spot in the Seeley-Swan valley and we were on our way in less than 2 hours. Are you slack-jawed at the thought? You should be. It takes 2 hours to prepare for a trip to Target sometimes.

The first camp spot we found was near perfect. It was next to a river, but not too close so that children would have to be tethered to trees, but close enough for nice hikes and perfect background noise. We decided to investigate the area before pulling The Baja into position, and it was then we noticed a car parked on a side road adjacent to our spot. It was a mini-truck. I loathe mini-trucks. I believe the child molester manual actually requires the purchase of late-model mini-trucks before admission to the club is granted. So when I saw this mini-truck I shivered and suggested to Jim we walk by to see if the owner was going to be camping or just fishing for the afternoon. Keep in mind, we are in the middle of fucking nowhere. Dense forest, no civilization kind-of nowhere. The closer we got to the truck the more my hackles raised. It was dark blue and loaded to the roof with shit. Belongings of indescriminate shape and origin. Thankfully, it looked to be empty of people, but still Madeleine, apparently sensing my unease, jumped into my arms as we neared the truck from the back. As we passed close by the passenger side, we had to brush against the door because of the dense brush next to the overgrown road, I nearly screamed. A man was reclined all the way back in the driver's seat and he may have been dead. Or a monster. His face was distorted and mottled, mouth wide open. He was dirty and decayed. It was a vision I won't forget for a long while. Our state has an issue with meth addiction, and this man was the face of the problem. In addition to sick and disgusting, there was something evil about him. It was a terrifying moment. I worried his eyes would pop open and he would spring from his seat and race after us and our children. But he didn't. Jim had passed by right next to his window and when we joined up again after passing his truck, we exchanged sickened looks, and immediately hightailed it back to our truck and The Baja. Jim's hand never left the bear spray at his hip the whole way back.

The rest of the weekend passed as it should have, thankfully. We drove another 20 miles up a beautiful drainage and found a gorgeous spot next to a trail head. I can't say I slept well that night, but was at least comforted by the fact that I have a healthy and capable partner with a gun and bear spray sleeping next to us. I keep checking the paper to see if a dead man was found in the Seeley-Swan over the weekend.

Camping and Hiking





Wild stuff (in order: bear print, mountain goat I never saw, elk way off in the distance, loud brave bird, another bear paw)






Dinner


Cozy