Camping and Squatching


It’s a perfect day outside here in Fayette County. It’s finally cooled off, clouds are blocking out most of the sun and there’s a nice, constant breeze. Perfect camping…err…Squatchin’ weather. The right weather to make that quick trip up into the mountains, pitch a tent, dig out a spot for a campfire, repeatedly reach into a cooler full of beer, and see if there’s anything living out there in the hills other than scary mountain folk.

We’re supposed to get thunderstorms this evening – the first rain around here in weeks. But that’s okay. We need it and there’s something beautiful about being inside a tent and hearing the rain tapping down overhead. Just pack some food that doesn’t need to be cooked over a fire, and keep that cooler within arms reach. After all, did you know that the odds of experiencing a Bigfoot sighting increase nearly 100% per every beer you drink in the woods? That’s according to very scientific research I just made up based on common sense and experience watching C-grade movies on cable TV.

But sometimes you just need to get away, and what better excuse than Bigfoot hunting?  Okay, there’s probably tens of thousands that would work better, but it’s one of the more unique excuses and I don’t like to be boring…

Obviously I don’t live in an overly developed area.  Uniontown is the biggest, closest city to me and it’s a 10-minute drive if the weather is nice.  There are 14 houses down the street past where I live before the road comes to an end.  There’s no where to go if you drive past me except for one of those houses. So why is it that when I’m outside, doing yard work, or walking Graham the cat, a car passes by every 30-60 seconds?  It just makes me feel like I’m living in a more crowded area than I am and fuel the need to get away…

i wonder about my neighbors.  Do they get lost easily?  Do they get confused?  Two of them have golf carts so when they’re cruising past me down the road I expect to see them coming back soon – at a safe, reasonable speed.  But if I’m outside for an hour, why would I see the same vehicle passing by 13 times?  Where are they going to/coming from/going to/coming from that’s so exciting to see for no more than 3.5 minutes before they need to come home again?  Is it the combination of dementia and driver’s licenses in action?  I’m tempted to flag them down and ask where they’ve been going, purely out of curiosity.  But I’m already the strange neighbor who walks his cat, so they might be a little put off by that.  If they even stop.

But for now, Graham just took off for one of the neighbor’s yards as I was looking down at this screen for a few seconds too long.  And last time he headed that way, he came back covered with so many burrs he looked like he’d come down with a nasty case of chicken pox.  And if I have to spend the next hour picking them out of his fur, I’m really going to need a mountain getaway.

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