In my last post I told you about the knife-and-light-gifting Mr. Book and his baby girl and their imminent need to go into town, from our Sukkot camp, for a slice of, or perhaps three whole pizzas. While Mrs. Book tucked her kitties into their tent, we loaded into their car. On the way into town we passed another of the Sukkot campers from the group. Because I wasn't able to do all eight days of the Feast, and many of the other families had, they had chosen to each go their separate ways that afternoon and reconvene around the fire after kids had been put to bed. The friend we passed quickly chose to join us for pizza and our little group found a back booth in town at the pizzeria. For clarity sake in this story, I'll call the new guy Doc.
What made the entire evening incredibly satisfying is simply the ease at which conversation flows with these friends. Often at home I find myself editing my thoughts to make them more surface-level for new friends. My 41 years of experience has taught me that I'm not everyone's cup of tea, having been called a "yapper" recently by an irritated loved one- who simply doesn't need or desire to know my thoughts, ideas or experiences. These friends were refreshingly interested in my life, and I in theirs.
I left the pizza place that night with the distinct feeling of having known all five of them forever. These strangers were now classified as trusted, close, friends.
We arrived back at camp in time to see the Train family just before they started putting the kids to bed. Mr. Book and Doc immediately began to put my super-cheap tent together in the dark, by headlamp, and started pulling out all kinds of extra amenities like air mattresses and extra sleeping bags, just-in-case. They had anticipated that perhaps I may not have been completely prepared and had both brought extras just-in-case. Although I had packed surprisingly well for myself considering my new-girl status, their level of intentionality regarding my needs and comfort blew me away. I've never felt protection from a complete stranger before and quite honestly I'm still not sure what to do with that, but I knew that I liked it and I knew I was safe and that "it", what ever it is, would be okay all weekend.
The group had pre-arranged for each of the men to prepare a talk, or study, one for each night, to give around the fire after the kids had been put down. On Thursday night by the time my camp was set up and kids were down it was late enough that it was decided to post-pone Doc's presentation for another time. We all reluctantly ended our subsequent gettint-to-know-you conversations around 1:00 am and headed to bed.
I've never been more at peace sleeping on the ground in 35 degree weather, with my little dog nestled at my feet.
The next morning people had decided to go in different directions. A new family would be arriving later in the evening and others had made plans with family in a town several miles away... It was decided that the Books, Doc and I would hunt down hot spring pools in a river Mrs. Book had heard about. Because of Baby Book's carseat and a collection of water jugs, fishing supplies, medical supplies, and extra camping gear, it was determined that we'd need to take two cars and that I'd help Doc navigate and lead our entourage.
If I had expected adventure the night before, I was not disappointed. We relatively easily found Penny Hot Springs and soaked for awhile in the river. Then Mrs. Book, ever the adventure researcher, realized we were in very close to Marble, which contains the marble quarry the monuments in Washington D.C. were mainly supplied from. We decided it was worth the detour. Also, on the agenda was a search for a natural spring with fresh drinking water to fill the jugs for our time in camp, which would be in the opposite direction. On our way to Marble, we were delighted to stumble upon row after row of coke ovens, right off the highway. The ovens were used in the area's coal mining hey-day to refine coal. After crawling around the ovens and shooting pictures of the ridiculous views of changing trees and a meandering sparkling river, we made our way to the dead end that is the quarry. By now the light had softened, making the shadows chilly and the sunspots downright golden. I could see myself living there with those views and a simple-life small town feel!
When we had our fill of views and our pockets were full of marble shards, we headed the opposite direction to Basalt. On the way there Doc realized that we'd be passing The Frying Pan, a famous-to-those-that-know-fishing-holes kind of place.
The conversation all day had been easily flowing and occasionally dipping into deep wells of truth and experience by one or the other of us. Doc is easy to talk to, a good listener, and and intelligent counterpart on nearly every topic. He's also humble enough to post a disclaimer when he's not sure of his perspective or understanding. Quite frankly the entire day had been relaxing, joyful and perfect. Somehow driving at the Golden Hour next to The Frying Pan listening to an avid fisherman describe his excitement, created a strange anxiety in me. For miles I didn't give it air, but eventually in the safe environment Doc had created for our less than 24 hour friendship, I started to tell him of my 14 years of experience regarding "avid fishing" and "world famous rivers" and the heartache that comes with being a married-less-than-a-week bride who's honeymoon was forfeited early for a fishing trip with the guys...
I was uncomfortable with the realization that somehow Doc had innocently opened up a festering heart-wound that had been hidden and piled upon for more than 21 years. I was also silently amazed that he seemed unfazed by my articulately exposed wound. He kindly offered to leave me with the Book family so that he could pursue an hour or less on the river before sunset. Initially, I agreed. I was suddenly exhausted and wanted to retreat. I was surprised by my deep desire to cry and sleep and leave. By the time our entourage found the fresh water spring and filled up our water jugs, it became clear that the Book family would not be my out. Mr. Book wanted to learn to cast and it was decided we would move on to the dam together. I'm not sure if the outside temperature had turned cold or if I was just exhausted beyond body temperature regulation, but was spent.
Baby Book was my saving grace. She was happily collecting rocks and bringing them to me to define their color. It's hard not to smile at a toddler's wonder. Eventually Baby brought me a perfectly round red "David rock", perfect for a giant-killing slingshot. We had been looking for them all day. She shoved it into my vest pocket and told me it was for me. "Why can't I swallow these tears", I thought. Where were they even coming from? I remembered the details of the day and marveled at my mis-matched emotions.
Before I knew it, the fishing expedition and casting lesson were over. In hindsight, it probably was less than 30 minutes, yet I had never been more relieved to be in Doc's car. I was clearly ridiculously shivering so Doc put his own jacket on me and turned up the heat. Our conversations on the way into Basalt for dinner stayed on safe and light topics and this newly exposed pain settled to a dull ache.
Dinner was FABULOUS! We chose a family-owned Italian restaurant and asked to be seated on the patio under the soft lights. Our little friend group had somehow turned into a family during our adventure and we chose to order a variety of appetizers and entrees to share between the five of us. Baby Book spent her time waiting for the meal singing praise songs and recording "happy birthday" love videos for my daughter to be sent in the morning. I'm not sure why, but that patio, those people, that singing baby, the waitstaff and even the herb garden behind me were used as a healing ointment and a source of hope for what would come in the following days.
Because of the assumption that we would only be gone for a few hours and that we may end up in a hot springs situation indoors, I had chosen to leave my dog in the tent where he would be shaded and have food and water. As the adventure progressed, I had become increasingly anxious about having left him. Because I was starting to worry, Doc offered to reach out to Mrs. Train to see if they would adopt-a-dog for the evening. The Train kids have no experience with dogs and were anxious about having him in their camp, but by the time the rest of us returned to camp, Moses had adopted all three kids as his. It was official, these virtual strangers became our family, all in one crazy, adventurous day.
Again, it was decided that the teaching lesson Doc had prepared for the fire-chat would have to be postponed until Saturday. There would be another family arriving to camp soon, yet I chose to take my newly-discovered wounds to bed early and left a perfectly good fire and conversation to meet with Jesus in my tent...
"Doc" at The Frying Pan Dam.
The "Book" Family at Penny Hot Springs.
The coke ovens.
Marble fall.
"Baby Book" offering me treasure.
Stupid beautiful.
Stupid perfect day.
Mr. "Book" has a hard time reading signs.
We obviously had to follow him to make sure he was safe.
Leaving Marble.
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