Every time I go camping (camping being a rather wide term, mine with every convenience to be had in towing my modern rolling home), I learn new lessons. When I look back, the main lesson I learned from the start of my girl camping adventures and the major lesson I relearn each trip is that I can do far more than I ever imagine that I can.
For instance, take the job of backing up my camper. From the day I brought home my first camper and had to back it into the barn, I was terrified. I learned then the truth of the old saying “inch by inch, it’s a cinch.” In the years since, I’ve learned that backing a camper straight is an over-rated skill. It’s okay that I generally wobble backward and rarely position my camper straight back into a campsite. I do get the job done in my slow way, and I’ve only hit something once!
Last week my backing skills were given upgraded lessons when I was stopped on a lonely stretch of road by a train stopped on the tracks. Time ticked past, as I enjoyed the fragrance of wild-growing ligustrum and honeysuckle. I noted two cars come up behind me and quickly turn around, and a truck came up on the other side of the train and instantly turned around and headed the other way. Did those drivers know something I didn’t know?
“Well, I can’t be turning around with the camper,” I muttered to myself and my furry companion, Faith, in the back seat, who listens to everything I say with polite attention. In fact, as two more vehicles came up and quickly turned around, I carried on quite an argument about the situation with God.
After thirty minutes, I got out and looked at my options. The train appeared dead on the tracks, not a sound from it, and train cars stretched out of sight in either direction. I had an entire road behind me and about fifty yards back was an abandoned gravel drive. If any vehicle came up while I was backing, they could clearly see the camper. I shifted into reverse and wobbled my camper backward all over the road, until I could, in smooth fashion, if I do say so, turn the camper into the driveway. From there, I could pull forward onto the highway once again, heading for my destination by a different route.
And FYI: another lesson I’ve learned is not to follow the Apple and Google map ladies when they direct down a county road. In rural Alabama, a county road may start out paved but often turns into a dirt track used by logging trucks, who come barreling along and narrowly t-bone a girl camper and her truck and trailer. I pulled out a paper map and chose my own route to the campground.
Below are scenes from last week’s camping excursion to Millers Ferry Campground (now my favorite!) in Wilcox County:
I visited the town of Camden, Alabama, and fell in love. It was like stepping into Mayberry.
I also visited Black Belt Treasures Cultural Arts Center, which features art, crafts, and literature by artists in the counties of the Black Belt of Alabama. The term Black Belt comes, it is said, from the black soil, but I never did see any of it.
The inscription on the old concrete vault pictured above reads:
Dr. Alex R. Reed
was born near Winchester, Virginia 1784
Emigrated to Ohio 1798
Married 1805
Joined the Presbyterian Church 1808
Removed to South Carolina 1827
to Alabama 1832
Died on 28 Sept. 1834
AE 50 yrs. 6 m & 3 d-s
He left a wife and two sons in Ala
and a daughter in Missouri
Imagine the people who stood around the grave of this man in 1834– 190 years ago, and the grave remains, giving testament to the people who came and settled the area (without Google Maps or indoor plumbing or air-conditioning.) Imagine people who had no time to complain or riot because they were too busy with dreams for a better life, to build families and homes churches and communities, and to not starve while they went about it. Imagine the family that put all those words on a headstone! and the person who carved them there without power tools. Imagine the man buried, who accomplished so much, moved and saw so much. Imagine his legacy of adventure and lessons in living, and the family he left behind. Those people were remarkable, inventive, stalwart and faith-filled.
I think all of that when I go into old cemeteries. I know that among the dead were likely rogues as well as good, yet what I think most is how they were here and endured their time, as we are enduring our time, and did, often as not, strive, and succeed once in awhile, to make their world a better place.
My lessons in his area were about how the real America still exists in the friendly and kind people of small towns. I find I can’t quite put my feelings into words–I’ll keep working on it. But somehow when I go out and camp and am closer to nature (even in my rolling home with a flush toilet), I somehow see more clearly what is truly important in life. I see that true life is made up of intangibles, virtues of appreciation of beauty, and politeness to strangers–I’ve never met a grump in small towns or campgrounds–and of braving with fortitude what is put before one each day.
I see that this sort of life does still exist, and my faith is renewed.
Blessings,
Curtiss Ann Matlock 
8 responses to “Further lessons in Girl Camping”
A lovely Post – and so interesting.
Gwen.
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I thoroughly enjoy your your girl camper Adventures. The town I live in has a little bit of Mayberry and I love going into buildings with 10 ceilings and the original wood floors which make a sound that is completely from the past when we walk on it. And in this rural area I learned not to trusted GPS because it’s it tries to make me go places where there are no roads. Looking forward to more of your adventures.
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Sometimes I find it hard to find people being kind. But after our weather in Oklahoma this past weekend, I realize there are still kind and good people out there. I am seeing people come together to help the victims of the deadly tornadoes. There is such kindness and love for people that have lost everything. People still have love and kindness for their fellow man.
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Oh, yes, Oklahomans are some of the kindest and stalwart people on earth! Sometimes we forget, but all we have to look at the history of tornadoes in the state, and see the amazing love displayed in people. Sending hugs, CurtissAnn
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Beautifully written, CurtissAnn! I so enjoy reading your posts and following your adventures. I’ve read all of your books. I admire you for how brave you are. I too lost my husband 13 years ago and I miss him every day.
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Dear Lisa, as one widow to another, I send hugs. Thank you for letting me know you have found something in my books to touch your heart. Some days the greatest bravery is simply getting up and going on. Like you, I miss my husband every day. God bless and keep you, CurtissAnn
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Thanks for sharing. I admire you so. What would your husband say about your adventures? I met you (through your books) after he passed away.
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Vicki– Thank you for reading my stories. I did not know how much I learned from my husband, until he was no longer here. He taught me and supported me in everything, so I believe he would be proud that I do my best to keep living, even though some days I really do not want to, as I still miss him. And I admire you, too, as a brave and loving woman supporting your daughter and family. Big hugs, CurtissAnn
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