“How about that spot?” I doubtfully put out there as we discovered that we were not the early birds this time around. Service Rd 9a along Indian Creek, KY appeared to be full, large car camping tents that showed their wear and tear had been hauled off into the woods from their resting places and erected into outdoor mansions for the local community looking for a little Fourth of July get-away. All the good spots with tall, straight pines and flat tent spots of soft pine needles had been snagged up. Just as the five of us men were getting ready to go to plan B, a light smoke slowly rising from a smothered fire pit invited us to check out one last site at the end of 9b—a relatively flat tent location, 3 properly spaced trees for the Tentsile tree tent and 2 more for a quality hammock set up, water and no traffic… “Let’s go for it” I said as I checked the weather one last time, even though we had lost our updates at least an hour prior when we entered the Red River Gorge, access granted by the dark and narrow Nada Tunnel.
“How does this fly go on?” asked John as he was loading his pillow and blanket into the tent that hovered lightly about 4 feet off the ground. Remembering there was a zero percent chance of rain I encouraged him to leave it off so he could get some fresh air through the humid July night. “I’d rather have it on, just in case.” And with that polite rebuttal, and unable to argue with his opinion, we halfway put it on so in the event of rain it could quickly be fastened down to protect his home for the next 3 nights. The tent built for 4 was standing tall, fly still stuffed in its traveling bag—why invite the extra suffocation, right? After my personal hammock was set, bug net in place to ward off any chance of who we call Junior—a wolf spider roughly the size of my palm—then sat down by the glowing fire, happily crafted by Chew and Jeffro. It had been a long day, traveling from Flint, Michigan down the I75 corridor into Kentucky, then wandering further away from civilization until we landed between to ridgelines at the end of a narrow, gravel road. After some good conversation and introduction to the The Five F’s, we began to hear what sounded like scattered raindrops on the leaves in the canopy high above our heads.
“Sounds like rain,” was the logical answer that was confirmed by a couple of the guys in the group. Then, in a desperate attempt to will away the inevitable and hold fast to the weather channel on my phone, which mind you completely lied to me two trips ago in this very location and left me scrambling to my pack at 3am to find a tarp of some sort; said one of the stupidest things one could utter in this situation: “Maybe it’s bugs hitting the leaves…?” What? Bugs pitter-pattering down on the canopy from the sky? A last-minute spider shower blowing in from the west that went undetected? It wasn’t but a minute or two later, while I stanchly believed this had to blow over that the sky opened up over our little site at the end of 9b and just dumped everything it had on us. Jason and I leapt into action to get the fly pulled over John, who had already settled in for the night to his suspended home; then helped Jeffro and Chew get the rest of their fly over their kingdom in the woods, then over to my personal abode under the night sky, half-sheltered by natures umbrella. How quickly the ground turned to mud and now all the gear was dirty (I hate being dirty—which is pretty ironic that I run a wilderness ministry that operates mostly in dirt, taking on whatever elements the sky has for us at any given time).
Rain, who would’ve thought? My lowlight for the day was that moment I was wrong about the rain, but it turns out it was Jason’s highlight—jumping into go-mode, battling the elements and being soaked… what a uniquely different creation we are from one another. Reflecting back on this wet, uncomfortable moment in time made me realize that focusing on our own desires can really get us in a bind sometimes. I was so bent on no rain, that I caused one guy’s phone to get wet in his tent, gear to be unnecessarily damp, and perhaps the group’s trust in me as a guide to be questioned. So, if we are not to focus on our own desires, then what do we focus on? Let’s try anything else: other people? Sure. Our family? Absolutely. A relationship and understanding of the One who brought us into existence? I think we all need to answer that question to find meaning in our lives. Our cat? Why not. Spending quality time with friends? Goes without saying. Jason, John, Jeffro, Chew and myself spent the next 3 days not only finding big adventures to make us feel old, evidenced by our achy thighs and desire to go to bed early, but we shared our lives with one another as well. We put the focus on listening to each other’s life stories with all the highlights and lowlights that punctuate them, making them ours; and it was a sweet, sweet aroma… kind of like the smell of ozone in the morning after a nice, summer rain.
-Matt
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