vertical path :: a token along the way (we didn't see it going up but it was there when we came down) cuppa :: the audition of the little tent, success :: bacon :: eggs
the tiniest runty mink, bringing up the rear (dead center of the photo) :: Appalachian Glass
Julian and I have now been camping five times, once for every summer we've lived in WV. We still can't quite figure out the charm of it. I think what makes it nice is finding balance. The low moments (fixing dinner on a fire while erecting a tent in the pitch black of darkness after a seven mile hike) are so low but the high moments (being on the creek bank when a mother mink toddles her six baby mink past you on a cheerful and fearless parade) are so high. It's like having a hard reset and coming back into society realigned.
There were near-vertical, strenuous hiking paths, rambunctious campground neighbors, and a "professional" raccoon. But there were also baby orioles being fed in their cozy nest, a red-breasted nuthatch, and a masterfully executed campfire breakfast to make it all good again. Nice how the cream floats to the top.
All that said, I think next time, one of us ought to bring the soap.