camping

I think grits, so-called polenta by my more refined cousins, is the forgotten staple in the backpack pantry. It is quick to prepare, filling and is a great boost on a chilly morning. I grew up on the stuff on cold winter mornings always spiked with copious amounts of brown sugar or maple syrup.

I individually pack:

• 1/4 cup grits (I prefer Bob's Red Mill Corn Grits)
• 1 tblsp. sugar
• pinch of salt

Then to prepare I add the contents to a small cook-in bag, add 3/4 cup boiling water and wait a couple of minutes. Taste can be improved by adding a tablespoon of butter (or the appropriate amount of butter powder) but you'll need soap for the cleanup.

One can substitute brown sugar or maple syrup for the sugar -- and it really adds to the flavor -- but these items would require separate packaging and thus more weight.

February 20, 2010 1PM: Snow. No, more like ice pellets, is falling. There isn't much accumulation on the ground yet. I turn the leaf litter with my foot looking for rocks and twigs, it's mostly damp sycamore leaves that fell the previous Autumn. Setup is easy, the single pole slides smoothly through its sleeve until it reaches the carbon fiber ridge support. With a gentle twist the aluminum pole continues its journey creating a smooth arch. A gust of wind tries to carry off the unfinished construct and I have to grapple with it until I get two stakes in the ground on the end where I'm standing. The remaining stakes are placed, guy lines are tightened and the bathtub sides are clipped up.

February 20, 2010 11PM: The rate of the ice pellets has increased building a diminutive wall around my tent. Wind gusts push on the tent causing the fabric to make snapping sounds. A stray breeze enters, piercingly cold. I strip down to my skivvies and slip quickly into my mummy bag. It's going to be a bitch if I have to take a leak in the middle of the night.

February 21, 2010 3AM: Something disturbed the thousands of geese resting on the oxbow lake nearby. The resulting cacophony and a full bladder end my slumber abruptly. I extricate just one arm from the mummy bag and delicately touch the ceiling of the tent with my fingers. No condensation there. Color me impressed. I quickly finish extracting myself from the mummy bag, surge from the tent and sprint to the nearest tree. If one keeps moving the cold isn't so bad, it's the wind that really bites.

March 27, 2010 Noon: "Mud, mud everywhere and oh my boots did sink," I played with the Rime as I searched for a dry, solid place to set up the Rainbow. This area had 6-8 inches of snow on it the previous Saturday all of it had melted and that was the problem. At the treeline I found a place, not too wet and not too muddy, out of the potential runoff of any rain storms which were looking more and more likely. Pitching was a breeze and shortly I was exploring the nearby forest.