The highlight of the weekend for me recently was a trip to Pocahontas State Park. I'd been trying to get to the park for a couple of years, but never could squeeze in the time to stuff a pack, spray some insect repellent and hike its winding trails spread among more than 7,000 acres. But I had the chance this past weekend and the opportunity revealed to me just where all of those bikes hanging off the back of RVs rolling down I-95 are headed. Yep, they're headed for our state and national parks.
I pulled into Pocahontas state park and was straight-away informed by the ranger at the gate that "ticks are pretty bad this year. You should stop by the camping store and see if they're selling any repellent."
Three years ago I would have put the car in reverse and not felt bad about it. I grew up within a couple of blocks of something called "The Big Park." When my wife saw it she said, "It's a playground. Basketball courts, handball, pool. What park."
I'd point to the baseball field. She'd shake her head. That meant park to me.
Not anymore. But still, I hate bugs. They h love me so much they just swarm around my ears and stuff. But I'm older now, a subscriber to Backpacker magazine and will not let a bug keep me from enjoying the outdoors.
I took the rangers directions and drove to the camp store. It was closed, but would open in ten minutes or so. I decided to take the time and walk around the area. In no time at all I saw the kids from the ET movie. You know the scene where Elliot and ET and his single-speed posse are running from the bad guys and all of a sudden are airborne? Well these kids weren't airborne, but they pedaled like they were being chased and all of them looked like they were right out of ET central casting.
A year ago my wife and I went to Italy for our 20th anniversary. Two Americans strolling through Rome, Florence and Capri. I felt less like a fish out of water there than I did in the campground. I mean, I've been the only Black in a room before. I think that I was once the only Black in a building before, so it wasn't that. I think what I was experiencing was a completely alien sense of not belonging.
I'd read about camping -- tent camping and RV -- but never had been smack in the middle of it. I was at the same time fascinated by these kids up and rip-roaring around before 10 am, and sure that my own kids wouldn't ever want to do this. I imagined the night before: sun goes down around 8:30 and these kids and parents are soon asleep in the trailer before the moon gets too high in the sky. How else could they have the enormous energy that they displayed?
But I persevered. Hey, I'm a city guy after all.
The camping store opened up and I bought an overpriced can of bug spray. I sprayed until I nearly dripped and then drove to my first trail head. My REI pack contained a light blanket, a magazine, water and a Power Bar. I was ready.
The first wave dive bombed me fifty yards up the trail. The gnats and mosquitos buzzed me like Tom Cruise in Top Gun. I swatted my ears until my head rang and cursed words I hadn't spoken in years. But I pushed on up a slight hill, mid-morning sun slicing through the trees just like in the magazine articles and poems. I could hear Walden's footsteps beside mine and felt John Muir's breath on my neck. Oh, that was an insect flying past.
I hiked in Pocahontas for about an hour, finally getting used to the bugs or maybe the overpriced spray began to take effect. Either way I had fun, and I think everyone who goes to our state parks will enjoy them, too. Just watch out for the RV bikers. They're every-eee- where!
