The one thing I hate about camping is doing the dishes. At home its one thing, I'm very comfortable in the kitchen, camping though, nothing ever really seems fully clean. I think I'd rather stab myself in the side of the neck with a large chisel dipped in honey mustard, ewwgh, or grow a mustache than do dishes.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Barista's' offer the finer points of water quality and ratio to grounds, we just drink it, dark! The darker the better. "Broker Coffee" it's referred to in the sales world, "Martyr Coffee" in the terror arena, "Cardiovascular Bliss" in others. Water from the river makes the best morning brew.
We zipped out of our tents in the morning. The grog of more than our rationed portion of beer and cigarettes heavied the luggage underneath our eyes. No sounds of people, no traffic, no phones or clocks or responsibilities other than coffee, a leisurely breakdown of camp and the ever increasingly enjoyable "pushing off" again, the trickle of river our morning news.