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September, 2006
Gimme some space
By Tanya Mitchell
Most people enjoy the outdoors because it allows you to quite literally get away from it all. And when I say all, I mean computers, cell phones, Blackberries and other instruments that our society has deemed necessary to remain constantly connected to work, home, and every other corner of the world - almost.
One of the many beautiful things about camping "Up North," as I like to refer to it, is that it's awfully difficult to maintain a cell phone connection in a lot of those areas. Even if someone does manage to get through, you can always play it like they're breaking up and you can't hear them (I highly recommend doing the fake static noises, but only if you're halfway convincing at it).
It's so easy to get caught up in day-to-day life, and worry about stupid shit like being a day late with getting the rent check out, or forgetting to do your laundry at the end of a long weekend.
It's a perfect enough situation, camping out in the northern woods of Maine, where the only other people you could possibly meet are those who are seeking solitude and a way to return to nature, like myself.
You can feel small again, in the sense that things are simple outdoors - all you worry about is getting up, fashioning a creative way of cooking breakfast over the campfire or Hibachi, and then I think the toughest decision one may have to face is whether or not to go fishing or hiking. Showering? Forget about it. I'll bathe when I return to civilization. After all, who cares if you look -and eventually, smell - like a scumbag, the moose?
I think not.
Sometimes, on a rare occasion, you can get lucky enough to feel even smaller in this world. Sometimes, nature and the universe remind you how small we - and our problems - really are.
If I have a particularly irritating day, I like to look back on an experience I had while sitting around the campfire with my father late one summer night.
We would often sit up late until we were certain the fire had dwindled enough to allow us to douse it easily. During these occasions, we would often recall the adventures of the day while dad played a little guitar. Sometimes, if we could get a good enough signal on the old welding truck radio, we'd laugh it up with the faint and static-ridden sounds of The Dr. Demento Show.
On this night in particular, though, we were just sitting around chatting when a series of sparks flying through the air caught dad's eye.
Our first thoughts were that they were merely wayward sparks escaping from the fire pit, but we soon ruled that out because the fire was diminished to little more than smoldering coals.
The mysterious fire particles soon increased in size and frequency, and it didn't take long to realize what was going on - we were sitting in the middle of what I to this day recall as one of the most spectacular meteor showers I have ever witnessed.
I have seen meteor showers before then and since, but they were never more than two or three shooting stars in the distance, all of which fought to be visible over the presence of light pollution from a nearby city or town.
This light show, which began as no more than a few floating sparks that came from nowhere, dropped a colorful series of light streaks in the sky that ranged in hue from a magnificent magenta to a deep green. Everywhere we looked, the sky was illuminated with these rocks that were created somewhere in space before coming to rest here on Earth. The slow sounds of the flowing river nearby were interrupted by the sizzling noises that could be heard each time one of the fiery orbs hit the water's surface.
After a few moments of marveling at this sight, we noticed a particularly large meteor careening into the wooded area directly behind where our tent was pitched. The campsite lit up as if it was daylight for the instant before the space rock made its landing.
Dad tried to locate the meteorite the next morning, but to no avail.
We were not disappointed though - just enjoying the sensation of being a part of this celestial occurrence was more than enough.
So now, every time I get annoyed because I missed what I deem an important call or forget to mail the light bill, I try to remember that in the grand scheme of the universe, none of it really matters.
And hey, if they disconnect my power, I guess I won't have to worry about that pesky light pollution in the event that another meteor shower rolls through.
Based in Searsport, Tanya Mitchell is No Umbrella's Associate Editor. When she is not kayaking or writing, she is hanging with her son, Shane. Reach her at tanya@noumbrella.com
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