Wednesday, August 14, 2013

camping in the shenendoah

I've always wanted to go to the shenendoah valley ever since I heard that wonderful song which unfortunately I have totally forgotten. We spent three days in the Shenendoah State Park, looking down over the immense valley, our high up camp accessed only by a very winding road over which every child was constantly threatening to be sick. 

Our particular site was steps away from the actual, for real, Appaichan Trail. As we "hiked" it (that is walked liesurly and gently along, stopping every few seconds to shout at the woodland creatures and the view, and also to collect acorns along the way) the first day I felt strongly that if every governor would really Hike The Appalchan Trail the country would be in possibly more tolerable shape. It's so beautiful, the views so stunning, not to mention the forest itself arrayed in green and light and shadow. Matt has lots of pictures on his phone and someday maybe I'll get them off.
Fatty Lumpkin always wanted to stir the pot. When a person said no to her she would leap back, shake her head vigorously and stuff both her fat dirty paws in her wide mouth.
Not surprisingly, I quickly wearied of the endless roasting of marshmallow and the sticky wads of chocolate and everything in everyone's hair, of Fatty Lumpkin's siren wail when she got dirty at all. But I basically kept a brave and happy face until the last night of the week when tragically all the sticks were too burnt and the marshmallows too stuck together and we had to make chocolate pudding instead.
More interesting to me was this "stew" which I reworked into various forms over the three days in Virginia. I think by the third night it tasted pretty delicious, especially with a thick pork chop underneath.
Oh Shenendoah, how I loved thee and hope someday to return but with a little domed wooden camper with a perfectly arranged spice rack in the back and my own source of water and positioned much much much closer to the loo.

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