Morning Scene: Backpacking Moshannon SF, Day 2

When we left our backpackers, they were tumbling into their tents in the Moshannon State Forest. My husband took his gear and his lantern and went back to his own tent. I climbed into mine. Big Agnes (my inflatable pad) seemed a bit flat, but I wasn't going to take the time to try to add air. I've done that scene, and it never really works out: it always seems you let more air OUT than you pump in.

I changed into my sleeping outfit, which is to say: lightweight cotton, top and bottom. My sleeping bag is a wonderful down bag, bought at a really great price last year. Now I will never be cold, but you have to wear the right stuff inside a down bag, or you'll sweat yourself to death; make the colossal mistake of stinking up your gear.

I had two regular sleeping pads beneath me, then Big Agnes, then the down bag on top of that. All of my stuff - including my little friends Alex and Little Bear and the Moose and Tiny Tiger and the Anteater - came along inside the tent. I tried to arrange my stuff I might need neatly beside me. Then I slid down into my bag, admired the twinkle show above me in the night sky, nearly instantly fell asleep.

There are two things that will wake you in the forest: light, and noise. I awoke for moonrise, and spotted the moon at the edge of the horizon; I mummied back down into my bag, went back to sleep.

The next time I awoke, it was full-on dawn, and there was a riot going on. I poked my nose out to see the light, checked my watch, discovered it was 5:30. But the real story was not the light; no, it was the RACKET being made . . . by the whip-poor-will.

I'd heard the bird the evening before, not far away. Then it sang further and further off. During the night, I thought I even heard it, far down the hill, singing its song. Well, at 5:30 a.m., it was right back with us, and it was frantic, and practically shouting out its own name: "Whip-poor-WILLIE!!! Whip-poor-WILLIE!!!!" It was an insanely loud and piercing sound. 

That old familiar song did not ring quite so beautifully off the hills at that early hour. It went on for a long, long time. It was very hard to get back to sleep, but eventually, I did. (My husband says next time, we should try covering our ears and blowing a loud whistle.)

I'd slid a bit during the night; woke up at one point to find Big Agnes had slipped down beneath me by about a foot; the top foot of me was just lying there on not nearly enough sleeping pads. (This, I think, is how come I get sore shoulders every time we backpack: I sleep on my side, then switch sides off and on through the night.) It wasn't as flat as some sites I've had, and it was a bit lumpy underneath. Next time, I'll try a little harder on the prep work.

When we awoke at dawn, everything was SOAKED. For guess what: it frosted where we were! The low temperature overnight on the open hill was 30 degrees F!!!! My down bag was soaked. My tent was soaked. All of my gear was soaked. We don't usually camp out in the open, under the big sky. All of our campsites but this one are under tree cover, so we don't tend to get such wet gear.

There was nowhere to hang anything, no nearby trees to hang a clothes line from, no nothing like that. I like to play house inside my tent for a little while in the morning sun. Then, usually by mid-morning, around 10 or so, I get my half ground sheet, take all my stuff out of my tent, place the sleeping bag, pads, and blankets on TOP of the tent to air out a while, and dump everything else on the ground sheet. Then I take down my tent.

Oddly enough, this time, my husband and I did a reversal on each other. Typically, I am first to put my tent up, while he mocks me from the sidelines. And usually, while I am still inside my tent in the morning, he takes his down. "Taking your tent down, I see," I might say, to mock him. And he'll say, "Nah," or "I'm just thinking about it," or "No, NEVER, not me!" But this time, he had put his tent up first the day before. And on this morning, I took mine down before him! We switched roles.

I put the Anteater, the Moose, the Tiger, Little Bear, and Alex on a nearby green tree to play, and we spent the morning enjoying some sunshine before a couple of clouds started to move in. Our high temperature for Tuesday was 65 degrees. Rain was expected by late day Tuesday or more likely overnight. The window for good backpacking was indeed mighty slim!!!!

I'd made us each two ham and cheese sandwiches, and we ate one sandwich Monday and the other Tuesday, for lunch. My meal before we left the campsite was a sandwich, a very nicely chilled Diet Pepsi, and a handful of those Utz kettle classics dark russet potato chips that we just discovered. 

Weis Market was having a sale on chips last week: buy two bags, get THREE free. So it was that we got 5 decent sized bags of chips for under $10. That is a square-on good deal. Better yet, we found that we love the dark russet chips. They are sort of caramelized due to the type of potato used, and just a tiny bit sweet. They are also very robust and crispy; they give a good solid CRUNCH when you chomp them.

By around 2 p.m., we were all packed up, and we walked out of our new campsite and back to the car. It wasn't far. Longer than the walk to Pine Glen. Shorter than the other Moshannon State Forest site. Soon, we were in the parking lot, changing from backpacking boots to regular shoes, tucking our gear into the back seat of the car, getting a cold drink from the cooler in the trunk.

This was the story of our two-day stay in Moshannon State Forest, at a new campsite we found, that we sort of instantly fell in love with! I'm placing another photo set on Instagram. It includes 10 shots so that you can SEE more of the story there. 

In the photo above, it was morning, we'd just gotten up, and I was out walking around taking pictures. My husband - the love of my life - was sitting by my tent in the morning sun, and the scene looked so inviting, I couldn't help myself: I had to have the shot.

My soundtrack song is for the whip-poor-will that sang off and on all night, and who woke us at the crack of dawn with his very LOUD song: Gordon Lightfoot, with Minstrel of the Dawn.

P.S. I wasn't sure if I should add this or not, because it adds a bit of a bummer to what was a really fabulous good time that was had by all, in the PA wilds. But I did, once again, bring home some unwanted guests: several ticks, so tiny they were smaller than the point of a pencil! 

One was attached to my left knee when I woke up, and I opened my tent door, grabbed it, and pitched it out, without thinking. I found a second one hiding under my right boob (a place I'd have never thought to look) at home. And I removed a third one that was crawling up my neck later in the evening. 

So use extra caution and be careful out there: there are ticks about, and some of them are very, VERY tiny. They are ALL quite hungry! Read my earlier tick posting here. And yes, the two that I removed at home are being sent to the PA Tick Lab for analysis. Now begins the waiting game. . . .