I strode into the office that Friday earlier than normal. It’s summer dog days, so it wasn’t a deadline driving the urgency. No, it was the excitement rather for what lay ahead: a camping adventure in the White Mountains of New Hampshire!

I felt pretty good about our rough itinerary. The plan was to shoot up Friday afternoon directly to a restaurant we previously settled upon (based upon a recommendation), then set up camp in the early evening and relax by the fire. For Saturday, we picked out an activity and planned an ambitious hike to follow with more relaxing fireside time carved out for the evening. Sunday, we’d break camp and hit a nature center on the way home. Outdoors adventuring at our own pace, my kind of a weekend.

Meanwhile… Up in JR’s brain land, a different adventure was playing out, something a bit wilder… something… fantastic.

With the audiobook: 438 Days: An Extraordinary True Story of Survival at Sea, by Jonathan Franklin and the book book: How to Eat in the Woods: A Complete Guide to Foraging, Trapping, Fishing, and Finding Sustenance in the Wild, by Bradford Angier, close at hand through the weekend, the powers of imagination awoke.

As we enjoyed our (very tame) weekend, I daydreamed sensational tales of survival and self-reliance.

I was the Don Quixote of the Whites…

So What Actually Happened?

Friday afternoon got off to a great start. I zipped out of the office, grabbed Ms. IS and we were on our way. We arrived at the restaurant in no time and enjoyed an eclectic meal with some awesome cocktails. Spirits high and bellies full, we bopped over to our campsite to set up. (As a side note, I’ve found Reserve America and Recreation.gov are great starting points to begin planning your next adventure!)

The campground, Big Rock, is located just east of Lincoln, NH on the Kancamagus Highway (isn’t that fun to say?!). It’s part of the White Mountain National Forest, so think park rangers, not a private mom and pop place. I can’t say I have a strong preference between private and public campgrounds, but my rule of thumb is to up your due diligence with the private ones because they can be somewhat hit or miss. A park run by the state or federal government may be more austere, but they tend to be relatively standardized.

Big Rock has 27 sites, each tucked away a bit, so you have some privacy. We defintely prefer this layout, as oppposed to a larger place or one more tailored to R.V.’s. Your “site” at an R.V. -oriented campground is often a slab of concrete with electric/water hook-ups, situated five feet from your neighbor’s identical slab. Eek.

Not my idea of enjoying the outdoors, not my version of solitude…

In 438 Days, an El Salvadorian fisherman named Alvarenga floats (mostly in solitude after his shipmate, Cordoba, perishes) across the Pacific Ocean in a small disabled fishing boat. With little resources, he faces incredible physical and mental challenges. He first survives and then thrives, alone at sea on a diet of birds, fish and sea turtles. After 14 months and hundreds of miles, serendipity intervenes and the forever changed man drifts into the Marshall Islands, eventually rejoing civilization. It’s an extraordinary tale of survival, ingenuity and self-reflection.

Setting up our Fast Pitch 6-Person Dome Tent upon a large hunter green tarp, Iimagined Ms. IS, my shipmate, as Cordoba, and I, Alvarenga…

Threatening clouds suddenly filled the sky. What was that sound in the woods?

“Quick, honey, we haven’t much time now! Grab that tent stake. Yes, that’s it. Drive it in. Right there.” I bellowed as the winds picked up, the sky now a swirling gray-black mass.

“Check! OK, I’ll secure the provisions!” She responded in an elevated pitch as she accounted for the hard cooler, the soft cooler, the smaller day trip soft cooler, the water bottles and a few miscellaneous beers for JR.

And then, CRASH, BANG! The one-two of lightning and thunder electrified our surroundings. A deluge began. Within seconds we were marooned on our green tarp, a sea around us in every direction.

My legs became less sure of themselves. “Was the ground swaying?” I thought, nearly out loud.

Securing my hat, I yelled, barely audible above the gail: “Grab the poles and lift! We can do it! Don’t lose hope, my little Cordoba!”

“Whatdge-ya say?” Ms. IS directed at me through squinted eyes, a tent pole bowing in an arc between us.

“Ahhh. nothing, honey. I’ll get the fire going.” I blurted, snapping back from my reverie.

SATURDAY:

Our first full day of adventuring began with an auspicious start, a local joint for coffee and pancakes! Generally, if we don’t do something simple at the site, we love finding a local spot to ease into the day, ask folks where we might find some off-the-beaten-path spots and make any adjustments to our itinerary.

Well, adjustment was the key word here. Friday’s daydream would become Saturday’s reality. Our afternoon hike would likely put us at elevation, far from our vehicle when a passing, yet formidable t-storm band was scheduled to roll by. No bueno.

We audibled. Keeping our morning plan to see/traverse/whatever one does at the Lost River Gorge & Boulder Caves, we traded our afternoon mountain hike for a (much less strenuous) meandering stroll down to a spot on the Hancock Branch of the Pemigewasset River. It’s just across the street from the campsite, so we could scurry back if needed.

The gorge was great! Well set up to funnel people down a stream gorge, the wooden walkways, stairs, and bridges are an architectural wonder themselves. Kids like exploring the crevices and caves along the way. I was less enthusiastic about the body contortions necessary to negotiate the many tight spaces, so I was content taking pictures and sticking to the main drag.

As you can see. I loved the textures!

Take Me to the River

Armed with picnic fixings, our next destination: the river.

Immediately reminded of the popularrity of the area, we found a handful of folks at the river, some fishing, some swimming, a girl reading lazily under a tree along its bank. Within the actual river, more evidence of humans: a pool made from built-up rocks, and my favorite, cairns!!!

We found a spot off the trail a bit and, on the bank, set up our minimalist picnic. Ms. IS thought “two can play that game,” got her book out and plopped her butt down.

Camera weilding JR headed down to the riverbed a few feet below. I should mention here that the river was quite low, so I could comfortably navigate down river, hopping from one rock to the next. I could imagine the power during peak spring melt, but today, it was a pleasant, swift, but small brook amongst a sea of rocks.

And around the bend….Cairns!

After enjoing the river for a few hours, we figured we were pressing our luck, so we began to head back to the campsite. We hopped in the car as the raindrops started pattering the roof. Nice timing, but that’d be the last of any real outdoors for the remainder of the evening.

I took in a good chunk of the Red Sox game radiocast, while lounging in the car amidst the dowpour. It rained long enough and hard enough to make us extremely thankful we didn’t fooklishly bite off more than we could chew. It would have been a different world (and maybe a real survival situation!) if we headed up one of the many 4,000+ foot peaks in the area.

The Sox would lose, but we slept well and kept relatively dry in our tent that night.

SUNDAY:

Holy cow! Time to go home and what did we even do? An adventure void needed to be filled after the weather got the best of us the day before. We resolved to squeeze in a quick hike around Russel Pond to make up for it, before continuing south to the nature center.

Wow, another great spot! And, you can camp here too! We made note and marked it as a place to potentially stay next time we come up to the region.

As we marched around the lake, my mind wandered to passages in How to Eat in the Woods.

The book is essentially a field manual. The first section involves “things to avoid,” namely, plants and berries that will kill you if ingested. Fair starting point. It goes on to describe very practical things, like identigying poison ivy/oak, etc. The next section is a true edible plant guide, something I will make use of for a more extended backpacking trip someday. The guide also covers animals and fish, specifically, how to identify, track, stalk, hunt, trap, kill, prepare and cook them.

I couldn’t help but slow down some and take in my surroundings slightly differently. If I were in a true survival situation, which of these plants, berries and fungi would I begin to hoard? Should I prepare shelter or fashion snares elong these clearly defined game trails?

Whoa, whoa there, ‘Ol Donny Quixotes. You’ve still got things to do… and mountain lions to see?!

Animals!

Techinically out of the White Mountains, but still north of Lake Winnipesaukee is Squam Lakes Natural Science Center. I’d be lying if I said the reason for the stop was anything but the prospect of Ms. IS seeing rescued wild animals. Again, she likes the animals… like, a lot.

The center has some amazing animals, including a mountain lion. Ms. IS loved the three red foxes. They chased each other around and snuggled upon together… Ugh, I guess their cuteness may have affeted my sensibilities too!

My favorite were the raptors and owls. I learned that there are both “red-tailed” and “red-shouldered” hawks soaring through the skies of New England. I think I find the “red-shouldered” variety more regal, but “red-tailed” has such a better ring to it. Oh, well…

Staring through the glass partition at a majestic, fully-grown mountain lion, I drifted back to the trap, snare and pitfall instructional images found within the pages of How to Eat in the Woods. Did this mountain lion come across some hunter’s trap and that’s what ultimately brought him here? Gosh, I sure hope not.

He paced back and forth in his enclosure. I wouldn’t use the world cramped, but these animals cover scores of acres in the wild, so any confinement less than the natural boundaries of the landscape seem restrictive.

Oh goodness, I don’t think I’d be much of a hunter…