Pictured above, me at my favorite campsite this morning.
Last night, I met my friend Randy for dinner and realized something I’ve just been dancing around. By the time I arrived on my bike at the restaurant, he was already out front, having put our name on the list for a table and because it was a mild night. He asked if I’d like to put my backpack in his car -- about a block away -- an offer I eagerly accepted. Due to the stigma attached, I don’t like people looking at me and suspecting I’m homeless. Without my large backpack in tow, I’m just another guy who hasn’t shaved for a while. I’m especially vulnerable to this feeling when I’m heading directly to a campsite, or exiting from it.
I continue to make improvements to my favorite site, am possessive of it, and don’t even like the prospect of strangers visiting it, let alone camping there.