You... Camped?

I have returned from the wildy wilderness of Northern California unscathed.

As some of you might know, because you are nosy bastards, I went camping last weekend. We went out yonder, to a place I will have to look up on GoogleMaps... here

It was pretty damn (dam? it's a reservoir! ha!) spectacular.



We camped at around 6500 feet next to picturesque Utica (or Uriah, I forget which) reservoir. Right on the water, light years from anything remotely resembling civilization. Good times.

We then got drunk and decided to raft around--five not-so-tiny guys on a poorly inflated watercraft made for 2--in the dark. It was hilarious, though we are all now well aware that such a story could have also ended with "and they were never heard from again..."

And hey, what's the deal with you people (you know who you are) questioning my rustic outdoorsiness? It's a word. I mention I'm going camping and it's as if I announced I was headlining a drag show in the Castro. "You? Really? Wow, okay..." was the most common response.

So nuts to y'all, because I camped the hell out of that place. They now have signs that say "Beware of Sam" because the black bears have nothing* on me.

*maybe claws and very sharp teeth.