Meet Hecate

First, I let my fellow sailors down by forgetting to batten the hatches before departure, so within 3 minutes of leaving the house, anything and everything that could fall and shatter from the uppers, did. We all kept our cool, and since Gatsby has been given the green light to passeng(e?) from my bed in the way back, he didn’t even bother getting down from his luxurious accommodations to investigate. He supervised his peasant from a nice high vantage point. No injuries to report.
Next, after staving off some mild c̶h̶e̶s̶t̶ ̶p̶a̶i̶n̶s̶ panic during the drive (nothing major was happening, I was just feeling panicky realizing my foray into more nothingness than I am used to, by myself, responsible for another living thing, with the possibility of great calamity), we got to our spot and I started my first set up. Let me just say, while I am reasonably intelligent, and enjoy spending time outdoors, I have NEVER GONE CAMPING and don’t know what I’m doing! But I busted out all the gear. Whether I actually needed or not is irrelevant; the point of this trip is to do EVERYTHING. I managed to put the rug out just fine (huge accomplishment, I know), but let me tell you, I could not get the forking sun sail taut to save my life. In my engineering theory, it was going to be heavy-duty magneted to the front and back of Hecate, while the third point could be tied to a tree. Well, where I’m staying doesn’t have a tree handy, so I anchored it to the picnic table. That was about the only thing I did right. Apparently my heavy-duty magnets are not quite heavy enough for taut sun sails. The result could best be described as similar to a fat man wearing too-small pants, so they have to go under his actual waist. Maybe some extra holes/grommets/magnets will fix the sitch? Poles? I don’t know. I’m going to have to go back to school for this one.
Finally, I had set up and unpacked, and even trained a client via the dubious 4G service I was experiencing, and was ready to give my culinary skills a whirl in the kitchen. I went to wash my hands, but my sink didn’t want to turn on. Luckily, with my rudimentary knowledge of plumbing, this was a quick fix. I just had to open the valve. I’m not going to lie, though, this did take several minutes of hemming and hawing. Can you believe I once changed a garbage disposal AND changed the ball bearings in a dryer? Me either.
So now that the sink is working and I’ve washed my hands, time for the actual cooking. I’ve got my gourmet feast of chicken, rice, and green beans ready for the induction burner. Except every time I power it on (at least a dozen times I try to power it on), I get an E1 error code. Now what the heck is an E1 error code? When I say I trained a client earlier, and it was sketchy since I couldn’t get my Solis Lite to connect at the time, I wasn't kidding. It was a text, with sometimes sounds and video situation when I was at the right location, precise angle, and a small sacrifice to the Gods; naturally with the earthly rotation by this point, I had no service with which to ask the Google about E1 errors. I spooned my food into a bowl to eat cold while I further investigated. About 20 minutes later, I did manage to engage the Solis; meanwhile, as I was asking the internet what E1 means, Gatsby helped himself to the remainder of my meal. E1 means the burner doesn’t like what you’ve set on it. Apparently, you need special cookware for an induction cooktop, and I don’t have it. No eggs for breakfast. No coffee, for that matter. Fork me.
To add to the fun, the Laveo dry flush toilet went wonky on first flush. What’s supposed to happen is the mylar bag deflates while twisting, to whisk away your offerings, and then puff up to give you a fresh crapper bowl. My mylar bag just wanted to puff up and then deflate, leaving out the most crucial step. I’m not even really sure what I did to resolve the situation, but I spoke kindly to it, and caressed it gently, and it eventually responded well to that approach.
The second day weather was both a pain in my ash, and good practice for everything. It alternated wildly ALL DAY between hot and sunny (meaning I needed to put up the sun sail) and chilly and thunderstorm-y (meaning that had to come down because of the whole magnet skerfaffle). It also meant every weather fluctuation had me packing and unpacking the rug (there was nothing weighing it down without our butts on it), the chair (it would’ve gotten wet without the sail), etc. I’m here to tell you that by the third day, that sun sail did nothing more than sit in a wad on the picnic table.
I have learned some things. Everything requires more effort while camping. And I am very aware of my own laziness. So going back to home base, we’re going to revamp some things. Namely, if it’s an every day item that doesn’t fit into the uppers, it’s not coming on the trip. I can’t be bothered to unpack the garage every time I need a sweater or some such. The cat door from the interior into the garage will likely seldom be used, since Gatsby requires the twin bed to be open either to sprawl himself upon, or to access my bed so he can swan about and pretend to be the Prince of Nomadic Persia.
Really, why the fork did I even pack a hair dryer? I don’t blow dry my hair unless it’s chilly weather anyway. I don’t even have a mirror up in which to style my hair with a flat iron. Who was I trying to kid…..half the joy of this is so that I can fully embrace my inner bog witch. Hair tools will not be accompanying me. There's a meme I greatly enjoy that says something to the effect of 'I wear the same 4 articles of clothing at home, but when I'm packing for vacation, it's like I plan on shitting myself 6 times a day.' I feel that. There's also one about packing French Horns, but if you know me, you know it's all about shitting your pants.
Even without the induction burners in operation for this trip, I can already tell that cooking/dishes are likely to be such a pain in my lazy arse that there is a very real possibility I might actually hit a goal weight (or something closer to it) by September.
The projector and white sheet with which I thought would be delightful to watch movies al fresco, I realize will only be a thought put into action at Gatsby’s Getaway, likely in the fall by the fire pit. Never will I ever be bothered to unpack that thing from Hecate and set it up on the road. Hecate no.
Every small woven box I put under my bed at home thinking I didn’t need/have space for will be put to use. In the uppers.
I don’t know why I thought it prudent to pack the pup’s life jacket. He doesn’t swim. Only dog paddles (tiny Princess Bride reference, in case you missed it).
Why I thought I would actually dig my floor mat out of Hecate's garage to use is beyond me. Let those knees get rough and calloused like a camel. I love camels.
Like things will be grouped with like things in semi see-through rectangular totes when we return.
For as indolent as I am, one thing I am certain of – I will be moving the toilet from the stall every time I shower.
I’ve tried to find a kind of routine that will work for me. I’ve tried to incorporate all of the things I want to make part of that routine and start practicing them here…..writing, walking/hiking, kettlebells, reading, photography (that one at least is second nature, and I don’t feel anything regarding it is too arduous a task. Well, except for using my good camera. It might push me over the edge to dig that out.....then again, that might be the one thing that motivates me.....).
For all the prep I did prior to obtaining Hecate, on this jaunt I’ve made lists upon lists of other stuffs I need. I’ve learned that campground camping is not my jam, making me incredibly glad that I went with some of the upgrades I did, like super jacked solar, so I am able to wild camp. While I don’t mind the ambient campground noises, I’m all set with the kid at the next site with his grandpa (which really does seem aDORable. In theory.) who is trying to perfect his wolf call (I think that’s what he’s going for) every 4 seconds, or them yelling at their dog, Phoebe, every 2 minutes. Speaking of dogs, they’re everywhere here. And part of that is forking awesome. I love dogs to death. When I was a little kid, I’m pretty sure I married my Great Dane, Mischa, and my Schnoodle, Rico, no less than half a dozen times each. In a cute little kid way, not a Howard the Duck bestiality kind of way. However, Gatsby in his older years has become more reactive toward other dogs, so when we are outside, we are both on high alert. All. The. Time. Yes, he is tethered, but I’m here to tell you that he is 140 pounds of jacked muscle, little-to-no brains, and questionable listening skills. That’s a lot of power. Enough to either pop a piece of his collar, a piece of his tether, and/or at the very least, take a full-sized picnic table for a ride. No joke there. I watched that happen a few hours ago. I already in life am delighted to be (knock on wood) with all my teeth, ligaments connected, and without broken bones from his brutish antics (I do really liken him either to Lenny from Of Mice and Men (when he’s barreling into me), or Biff from Back to the Future (when he’s around other dogs)), and I don’t fancy getting sued or having to put him down, so it’s all antennas up while we’re in a crowd of dogs.
Oddly, the bugs here haven’t driven me to drink, but the caterpillars are out of control. I’d be more into it if there were some funny mushrooms to eat or something fun to smoke along with them. Gatsby’s been enjoying them without mind alteration. I didn’t know they were on the stuff nightmares are made of, but I’d like to nominate them.
Because we are dry camping this long weekend without the aid of the solar panels (the connector was running late, so it’ll be arriving on Monday), I topped off the battery on shore power before departing, but I’m certain to run out of power before we return home, so I can’t edit my pictures at present, or post my blog at writing, but I at least was able to plan on that.
None of this is a disaster. This is largely exactly what was supposed to happen. There were bigger things. There were smaller things. We’re on this particular trip to familiarize ourselves with our new home and to try and work out as many kinks as we can. We want to learn. We want to build confidence. This is why we practice. And take Wellbutrin.