Keigley Campaign: Pisgah. The Camping Mecca.

When we first came up with our Keigley Campaign two years ago (What? Two years?) we wanted to simply find woods and to sleep there. The end.

We all decided to focus on South Carolina state parks the first year. It seemed logical. It was definable. It made sense. It’s the direction we chose to run.

Early on we struggled with the campsites not being exactly what we had in mind. We love Lake Jocassee but are always a little disappointed to share its beauty with so many strangers sleeping in plastic coverings so near to our own.

But we did it. One full year. One new South Carolina campsite each month. We paid our dollars – usually twenty five of them for each sleep we spent on our square of dirt and gravel. And we found some favorites and we have some incredible memories. And we’ll visit those favorites again.

Last week, for Mother’s Day, the kids asked how I wanted to spend the weekend.

I said, “Camping.”

The forecast was particularly rough and we had Saturday plans we could not alter. So we picked the following weekend to take our adventure.

We left South Carolina. We drove north. To one of our favorite green spots. Wild and natural. Lush and lovely. Pisgah National Forest.

There’s so much to love about Pisgah. The waterfalls. The deep green. The streams, wide with shallow waters and abundant river rocks.

And this – freedom in camping.

Hike in. Hang your hammock wherever you would like. No money exchanged. Build a fire. Gather wood from the forrest surrounding you – not the general store where they charge you five dollars per tidy bundle. Yes, you’re on your own for waste management. The only running water is of the stream variety. Electricity is not available so you can leave your griddle and your crock pot at home.

It’s what we thought of when we thought of camping from the beginning.

It was raining when we pulled in to the parking lot by the trail head. No worries.  We had rain jackets and we had hope.

The rain didn’t last long and the trail was picturesque. We didn’t trek for too long. Maybe a mile and half, nearly two. We found a grove of trees stream side and began to scout out which tree would work for which hammock. We hadn’t brought the tent, but we did decide at the last minute to bring along the sleeping bags as the forecast was predicting temperatures as low as forty. In May.

Kevin built a stellar fire and we just did what you do when you go camping. Whatever the woods ask you to do.

Our food rations were rather light – knowing we were only staying one night. We stowed away hot cocoa and nuts and peanut butter crackers and apples. It was more than satisfactory.

The stars were bright. The fire was crackling. The stream was gurgling.

Sleep came comfortably.

But it did not last as long as we would have liked.

The rain woke us up before five a.m.  I think. It probably woke Kevin up earlier actually. His head lamp actually pulled me into alertness. That and the water dripping on my face.

After standing by the fire and checking on sleeping children in soggy hammocks and sleeping bags, we decided we’d be better off loading up our sopping selves and trekking it back out right away.

It was 5:03. Mosely is our only watch wearer and thus she is Keeper of the Time.

Gathered by the fire, the kids donned their rain gear and gathered their hammocks, strapped their sleeping bags to their back packs and joked and chatted as we broke up camp before the sun was rising to guide our way.  Every kiddo happily and handily carried their own gear except little Fox – who doesn’t yet own his own hammock and whose “sleeping bag” was his own footie pajamas since he’s such a wriggler.

You know, it was an early departure. And it was wet. And it was unplanned. And it wasn’t exactly what I imagined for my Mother’s Day camping excursion.

But it was good. On so many levels.

The night before was really wonderful. Slow. Quiet. Disconnected from phone and electricity and demands and responsibilities and to do lists. It was a night of novel reading and almond snacking and fire watching and hammock resting and nature embracing.

And the wet trek out. Early. Kids carrying wet sleeping bags and drippy hammocks. And yet. Yet – not a word of complaining. Quiet joking. Hand holding. Burden sharing.

We could have stayed home. We could have not gotten out of the car when the rains started the day before. We could have whined and fussed at one another because our bare feet and our sock covered feet were soaked as we crossed the Davidson River multiple times as we followed the trail back down.

Just when we want to rescue our children, and our ourselves, from all things difficult, from all things tricky, it’s so good to be reminded. It’s so good to be aware – there’s such beauty in the struggle. Such hope in the hard. Such opportunity in the challenge.

When our children, when we, have the opportunity to rise above circumstance and serve one another, we thrive. We bond. We create a memory and a moment. And we do this together.

Despite it all, or maybe because of it all,  Pisgah is our new camping standard.  But I do hope for a sunny day on our next jaunt to more fully enjoy that gorgeous river!