We pulled up to the campground just after dark, in true MacMillan tradition. Because really, you can’t have a great camping experience until you try and scope out level campsites by headlamp and count paces to the bathrooms, trying to find the sweet spot of not-too-far but not-stinky, hoping and praying that the wind doesn’t change overnight and you are startled awake by the fresh smell of sewage.
That night was full of Macguyvering wine corks out of the bottle (we DID in fact bring a corkscrew, but it broke) and making s’mores by the campfire. We were alone in the camp (something that rarely, if ever, happens) and it was quiet and beautiful. The stars shot across the sky and before we knew it, it was morning again.
We spent one more night there before saying goodbye, but not before being over-run with deer hunters. Apparently October is the start of deer hunting season, did you know? Listening to gun shots takes some of the beauty away from remote camping. While this put an interesting spin on our relaxing camping weekend, I wouldn’t say it ruined it completely.
But I’m not sure that anything can ruin camping. Not much can beat waking up surrounded by Sequoia trees and birdsong.
(Though admittedly, I can live without the mosquitoes.)