I'm a nature-y girl, kinda.
...in the way that I'm actually a hardcore city girl, but I do okay.
See? This is me learning to kayak.
This weekend, I went camping in Burkittsville, heretofore best known for being the home of the titular creepy evil from The Blair Witch Project. My fellow brave souls were
ciretose / Jeff, yancentric / Yancy, findingjuliet / Ty, and interdisciple / Roddy. There was tubing down the Potomac, there were weenies a'roastin' for breakfast, there was lots and lots of booze, there was touring Antietam Battleground, there were interminably long riddles, a half-hearted game of truth-or-dare, and bad singing in Harper's Ferry. All in all, a good time was had by all.
Me, looking rather hobbit-esque in front of the tent that I shared with Yancy.
Preparing to hop into the Potomac on Butts' Tubes.
They color-coded our tubes by gender. How weird is that?
My lifejacket hated me, seriously. It absolutely would not stay fastened down.
This picture would have been so much cuter were it not for that stupid lifejacket.
Ty and Roddy coming out of the water.
The weary travelers emerge from the torrent...
Tubing really was a whole lot of fun-- good suggestion, Roddy. Some of the cliffs were just breathtaking. The rapids were small but fun-- nice little dips in some places. I was lucky not to lose anything-- Yancy lost his glasses, Ty lost a shoe, and Roddy his inhaler. Tragic things, river bitch.
Towards the end, the water got really cold.
This is why.
Note to self: wash mascara off face before going to bed.
I look like a battered woman!
That night, we headed to Harper's Ferry to walk around and sight-see. It was interesting to me how much of life is so symbolic-- as we passed a particular bridge, Snow Patrol's 'Run' came over the car's speakers.
Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear
It almost brought tears to my eyes. Shine on, Miss Sunshine Lady, he said. And I'm trying. It's hard, but I'm doing the best I can.
Anyway, at Harper's Ferry, we had burgers and a kick-ass crab dip and saw a creepy ass wax figure of John Brown. We heard pretty bad singing ("Play some JOURNEY!") and had a Moldovan waiter. There were many exclamations of "Aw, that looks like a middle-aged Hispanic/ young Asian/ septugenarian, dogwalking / slightly lesbian version of Max and Aster! *pause* They are dead to us!" Good times.
And then came Walmart, because Yancy needed an extra blanket. Let me tell you-- the five of us-- river bedraggled and half in our PJs, walking around a rural WalMart at nine in the evening... we all looked positively homeless, and yet I have never blended in more with fellow WalMartians in all of my life. Eugh. Gives me the creeps, that place does.
Back at the site, we built a little fire. The wood was wet, it was kind of a bitch.
Nevertheless, Jeff bravely pushed on.
There were s'mores, and much rejoicing was heard throughout the land.
Well, rejoicing, possible gunshots, and the Wu Tang Clan.
That night, booze was in abundance. We played stupid campfire games, like "MRN." (Ty to Roddy: "Have you ever licked MRN?" Roddy looks wearily at Jeff. Roddy: "Um, no.") We told goofy riddles about blind circus midgets. There were no scary stories, however. Ahh, next time.
At daybreak, after being woken up by either fireworks or gunshots, we had weenies for breakfast.
Ah, nothing like a blistered weiner in the morning.
Jeff, keeper of the Eternal Flame.
And more s'mores. Because who needs nutrition?
(There was also mac and cheese.)
Ty, just think, you get to keep this cheeseball for all eternity.
I think this is my favorite picture of Yancy and Jeff ever.
It's stereotypical, but cute nonetheless.
Oh, and in case there's any confusion, Yancy is Jesus.
Just sayin'.
...and also very tall.
Okay, so he's standing on a rock.
He's still eleven inches taller than me.
Does this need explanation?
Antietam Battlefield, site of the bloodiest battle of the Civil War, and the bloodiest day in American history.
We had our own personal tourguide in Jeff, who is the awesomest navagator / flaming firekeeper / history major / tube rescuer that we could have possibly asked for.
This is Bloody Lane / The Slaughter Pen, where 5,000 men were killed.
It's infamous for being one of the most haunted sites on the field.
Strangely enough, I didn't pick up nearly as many vibes at Antietam as I did at Gettysburg.
I have my theories as to why, but that's for another time.
The observation tower at the end of Bloody Lane.
A view from where the Confederates advanced on Bloody Lane.
Compare this to pictures taken right after the battle.
One view from the observation tower.
No matter how many crazy stunts I pull, I think I'll always be scared of heights.
This is Burnside's Bridge, the site of one of the stupidest Union charges in Civil War history.
Background on Burnside's Bridge: so, you've got this bridge that by bridge standards is pretty narrow. It's enough to get a cannon through, but just barely. The water underneath is about four feet deep. You've got Confederates with guns on one side, sitting pretty atop a hill where they can pick off Union soldiers crossing the bridge pretty easily. See? Not only that, but you've got a bunch of Georgians on the other side who can pick off Union soldiers as they line up to cross the bridge.
What does Union General Burnside do? He sends multiple waves of soldiers over the bridge. It was a complete slaughter there, with several waves taken out pretty easily. It takes three hours for Union troops, who outnumber Confederates two-to-one, to take the goddamn bridge, and with massive losses. Way to go, genius.
Although there is a pretty funny anecdote plaque near the bridge. It details the plight of the group who finally took the bridge:
"A little after noon, Edward Ferrero's brigade consisting of the 51st New York, the 51st Pennsylvania, and the 21st and 35th Massachusetts was ordered to take the bridge. Ferraro, who had attempted to control drunkenness in his brigade by cutting of its whiskey ration (an unofficial but often followed tradition), ordered the New Yorkers and Pennsylvanians to make the assault.
Corporal Lewis Patterson, Co. J, 51 PA, a teetotaller, shouted to Ferrero, "Will you give us our whiskey, Colonel, if we take it?"
Ferrero answered, 'Yes, by God, you shall have as much as you want if you take the bridge. I don't mean the whole brigade, but you two regiments shall have just as much as you want, if it is in the commissary or if I have to send to New York to get it and pay for it out of my own purse; that is if I live to see you through it.'"
And, the plaque read, "In less time than it took for you to read this story, that bridge was taken." See? Alcohol has its merits!
And thus ended our revels. Well, we stopped for ice cream on the way home, and I did a read-through of Neil LaBute's The Shape of Things (fucked up, man!), but that was the general end of the camping trip and the One Car Dream.
I leave you with two completely unrelated pics--
Look at me being sort of kind of domestic! I helped make ravioli from scratch!
Taa-daaaah!
And finally, pretty poppies are blooming in my garden.
The end.
See? This is me learning to kayak.
This weekend, I went camping in Burkittsville, heretofore best known for being the home of the titular creepy evil from The Blair Witch Project. My fellow brave souls were
ciretose / Jeff, yancentric / Yancy, findingjuliet / Ty, and interdisciple / Roddy. There was tubing down the Potomac, there were weenies a'roastin' for breakfast, there was lots and lots of booze, there was touring Antietam Battleground, there were interminably long riddles, a half-hearted game of truth-or-dare, and bad singing in Harper's Ferry. All in all, a good time was had by all.Me, looking rather hobbit-esque in front of the tent that I shared with Yancy.
Preparing to hop into the Potomac on Butts' Tubes.
They color-coded our tubes by gender. How weird is that?
My lifejacket hated me, seriously. It absolutely would not stay fastened down.
This picture would have been so much cuter were it not for that stupid lifejacket.
Ty and Roddy coming out of the water.
The weary travelers emerge from the torrent...
Tubing really was a whole lot of fun-- good suggestion, Roddy. Some of the cliffs were just breathtaking. The rapids were small but fun-- nice little dips in some places. I was lucky not to lose anything-- Yancy lost his glasses, Ty lost a shoe, and Roddy his inhaler. Tragic things, river bitch.
Towards the end, the water got really cold.
This is why.
Note to self: wash mascara off face before going to bed.
I look like a battered woman!
That night, we headed to Harper's Ferry to walk around and sight-see. It was interesting to me how much of life is so symbolic-- as we passed a particular bridge, Snow Patrol's 'Run' came over the car's speakers.
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear
It almost brought tears to my eyes. Shine on, Miss Sunshine Lady, he said. And I'm trying. It's hard, but I'm doing the best I can.
Anyway, at Harper's Ferry, we had burgers and a kick-ass crab dip and saw a creepy ass wax figure of John Brown. We heard pretty bad singing ("Play some JOURNEY!") and had a Moldovan waiter. There were many exclamations of "Aw, that looks like a middle-aged Hispanic/ young Asian/ septugenarian, dogwalking / slightly lesbian version of Max and Aster! *pause* They are dead to us!" Good times.
And then came Walmart, because Yancy needed an extra blanket. Let me tell you-- the five of us-- river bedraggled and half in our PJs, walking around a rural WalMart at nine in the evening... we all looked positively homeless, and yet I have never blended in more with fellow WalMartians in all of my life. Eugh. Gives me the creeps, that place does.
Back at the site, we built a little fire. The wood was wet, it was kind of a bitch.
Nevertheless, Jeff bravely pushed on.
There were s'mores, and much rejoicing was heard throughout the land.
Well, rejoicing, possible gunshots, and the Wu Tang Clan.
That night, booze was in abundance. We played stupid campfire games, like "MRN." (Ty to Roddy: "Have you ever licked MRN?" Roddy looks wearily at Jeff. Roddy: "Um, no.") We told goofy riddles about blind circus midgets. There were no scary stories, however. Ahh, next time.
At daybreak, after being woken up by either fireworks or gunshots, we had weenies for breakfast.
Ah, nothing like a blistered weiner in the morning.
Jeff, keeper of the Eternal Flame.
And more s'mores. Because who needs nutrition?
(There was also mac and cheese.)
Ty, just think, you get to keep this cheeseball for all eternity.
I think this is my favorite picture of Yancy and Jeff ever.
It's stereotypical, but cute nonetheless.
Oh, and in case there's any confusion, Yancy is Jesus.
Just sayin'.
...and also very tall.
Okay, so he's standing on a rock.
He's still eleven inches taller than me.
Does this need explanation?
Antietam Battlefield, site of the bloodiest battle of the Civil War, and the bloodiest day in American history.
We had our own personal tourguide in Jeff, who is the awesomest navagator / flaming firekeeper / history major / tube rescuer that we could have possibly asked for.
This is Bloody Lane / The Slaughter Pen, where 5,000 men were killed.
It's infamous for being one of the most haunted sites on the field.
Strangely enough, I didn't pick up nearly as many vibes at Antietam as I did at Gettysburg.
I have my theories as to why, but that's for another time.
The observation tower at the end of Bloody Lane.
A view from where the Confederates advanced on Bloody Lane.
Compare this to pictures taken right after the battle.
One view from the observation tower.
No matter how many crazy stunts I pull, I think I'll always be scared of heights.
This is Burnside's Bridge, the site of one of the stupidest Union charges in Civil War history.
Background on Burnside's Bridge: so, you've got this bridge that by bridge standards is pretty narrow. It's enough to get a cannon through, but just barely. The water underneath is about four feet deep. You've got Confederates with guns on one side, sitting pretty atop a hill where they can pick off Union soldiers crossing the bridge pretty easily. See? Not only that, but you've got a bunch of Georgians on the other side who can pick off Union soldiers as they line up to cross the bridge.
What does Union General Burnside do? He sends multiple waves of soldiers over the bridge. It was a complete slaughter there, with several waves taken out pretty easily. It takes three hours for Union troops, who outnumber Confederates two-to-one, to take the goddamn bridge, and with massive losses. Way to go, genius.
Although there is a pretty funny anecdote plaque near the bridge. It details the plight of the group who finally took the bridge:
"A little after noon, Edward Ferrero's brigade consisting of the 51st New York, the 51st Pennsylvania, and the 21st and 35th Massachusetts was ordered to take the bridge. Ferraro, who had attempted to control drunkenness in his brigade by cutting of its whiskey ration (an unofficial but often followed tradition), ordered the New Yorkers and Pennsylvanians to make the assault.
Corporal Lewis Patterson, Co. J, 51 PA, a teetotaller, shouted to Ferrero, "Will you give us our whiskey, Colonel, if we take it?"
Ferrero answered, 'Yes, by God, you shall have as much as you want if you take the bridge. I don't mean the whole brigade, but you two regiments shall have just as much as you want, if it is in the commissary or if I have to send to New York to get it and pay for it out of my own purse; that is if I live to see you through it.'"
And, the plaque read, "In less time than it took for you to read this story, that bridge was taken." See? Alcohol has its merits!
And thus ended our revels. Well, we stopped for ice cream on the way home, and I did a read-through of Neil LaBute's The Shape of Things (fucked up, man!), but that was the general end of the camping trip and the One Car Dream.
I leave you with two completely unrelated pics--
Look at me being sort of kind of domestic! I helped make ravioli from scratch!
Taa-daaaah!
And finally, pretty poppies are blooming in my garden.
The end.