It often occurs that pride and selfishness are muddled with strength and independence. They are neither equal nor similar; in fact, they are polar opposites. A coward may be so cowardly that he masks his weakness with some false personification of power. He is afraid to love and to be loved because love tends to strip bare all emotional barricades. Without love, strength and independence are prone to losing every bit of their worth; they become nothing more than a fearful, intimidated, empty tent lost somewhere in the desert of self.
«Proprio un elfo snob doveva toccarmi in sorte?» le rispose divertito. «Allora, non mi rimane altra scelta che portarti in campeggio, prima o poi, o in canoa o a fare una nuotata nel lago.»Lei lo fissò con la sua più riuscita espressione Scordartelo disegnata sul volto.«Puoi guardarmi come vuoi, ma mai dire mai» ridacchiò lui.«Oh, invece mai è una delle mie parole preferite.» «Scommetto che ti piacerebbe…»«Cosa?»«Il campeggio. Le stelle, il silenzio, le foglie che mormorano al vento, sai, quelle cose lì.» «Per non parlare di orsi, insetti e magari di qualche serpente che ha perso la strada di casa. Mi vengono i brividi solo a pensarci. Sono un elfo cittadino a tutti gli effetti e ho il terrore di tutto ciò che si muove e che non sia addomesticabile.»Lui la fissò con aria divertita. «Incluso il sottoscritto?»Le si era avvicinato troppo e ora la fissava come se volesse divorarla, in modo così sfacciato che, per puro istinto di sopravvivenza, arretrò di un passo. Non abbassò lo sguardo ma per qualche attimo non seppe cosa rispondergli. Non che avesse dubbi che la categoria esseri viventi non addomesticabili e pericolosi includesse anche lui, almeno a dar retta a tutte quelle farfalle che le svolazzavano nello stomaco, ma come avrebbe potuto rispondergli sì? Così gli sorrise a sua volta, pronta all’ennesima bugia.«Sono convinta, predatore, che tu, nonostante i grugniti e i continui brontolii e la tua probabile parentela con un grizzly, sia molto addomesticabile.»Lui alzò un sopracciglio, con un’espressione da schiaffi da premio Oscar.
Mom, camping is not a date; it's an endurance test. If you can survive camping with someone, you should marry them on the way home.
What on earth would I do if four bears came into my camp? Why, I would die of course. Literally shit myself lifeless.
Without the intense touch of nature, you can never fully freshen yourself! Go for a camping and there both your weary mind and your exhausted body will rise like a morning sun!
I'm tired of being set upon by crazed Christians one minute and unbridled libertines the next. Girls, I'm going camping.
You don’t have to say everything to be a light. Sometimes a fire built on a hill will bring interested people to your campfire.
When I returned to camp, they walked behind me on the trail, and we spoke not a word about getting skunked today, but rather talked about the days we returned with a stringer full of fish, and how we filleted them and the left the guts out for bears and eagles, and how those fish tasted fresh when we fried them over a fire.
We combine our three packs of pasta for dinner – pesto. We tip the dried stuff into a pan, add water and simmer. We try it, looking at each other with disbelief as it hits the tastebuds. ‘It’s pesto, Jim, but not as we know it,’ I say.‘Fascinating,’ says Lou, unsmiling humouring my Star Trek reference, while wincing at the foul food. (And what made me say that? Is there such a thing as a dad-joke vacuum that needs to be filled, even in the wild?)
My tent doesn’t look like much but, as an estate agent might say, “It is air-conditioned and has exceptional location.
If you have not touched the rocky wall of a canyon. If you have not heard a rushing river pound over cobblestones. If you have not seen a native trout rise in a crystalline pool beneath a shattering riffle, or a golden eagle spread its wings and cover you in shadow. If you have not seen the tree line recede to the top of a bare crested mountain. If you have not looked into a pair of wild eyes and seen your own reflection. Please, for the good of your soul, travel west.
...my dreams are tangled in images of stars and clouds and firelight - we go camping at night - it's my lucid dream of being with you...
I walked slowly to enjoy this freedom, and when I came out of the mountains, I saw the sky over the prairie, and I thought that if heaven was real, I hoped it was a place I never had to go, for this earth was greater than any paradise.
Each evening, I ached for the shelter of my tent, for the smallest sense that something was shielding me from the entire rest of the world, keeping me safe not from danger, but from vastness itself. I loved the dim, clammy dark of my tent, the cozy familiarity of the way I arranged my few belongings all around me each night.
Deep silence fell about the little camp, planted there so audaciously in the jaws of the wilderness. The lake gleamed like a sheet of black glass beneath the stars. The cold air pricked. In the draughts of night that poured their silent tide from the depths of the forest, with messages from distant ridges and from lakes just beginning to freeze, there lay already the faint, bleak odors of coming winter.(The Wendigo)
For brick and mortar breed filth and crime,With a pulse of evil that throbs and beats;And men are whithered before their primeBy the curse paved in with the lanes and streets.And lungs are poisoned and shoulders bowed, In the smothering reek of mill and mine;And death stalks in on the struggling crowd—But he shuns the shadow of the oak and pine