Derek, you're right... she's wronger than she looks.
I said it before and I'll say it again... if there's a world where that monstrosity makes sense, I want no part of it.
But maybe that genuinely disturbing chunk of just-plain-wrong served a very important purpose. Maybe it was required, simply to stand in contrast and point out how much better pretty much every other piece of gear that surrounded us was. The karmic exception that proves the rule, perhaps. It certainly inspired a great deal of discussion and comparison.
As for the weather... great googly moogly. You couldn't dial up a better weekend if you tried!
I have rambled and lazed about and slept under the open sky after dark one or two hundred times before, and there are various reasons I still stubbornly insist on doing so whenever weather permits. But
rarely have I been privileged to admire such a truly beautiful, remarkably clear night sky as I enjoyed Friday night on Becker Mountain.
While happy lunatics and some of the most talented whack-jobs I've ever met jostled and laughed and told stories bold and tall around the fire, I watched a near-perfect half-moon meander leisurely along its path from before sunset until pre-dawn, while the stars just kept getting brighter and more numerous as they danced effortlessly in their own slow, timeless patterns.
It got a bit breezy late in the night... or early in the morning, depending upon how you look at it. There was much rustling of leaves and rattling of branches and flapping of rain-flies and tent flaps. And some of those weird, deep, creaking sounds that only come from very tall trees being flexed and stretched close to their limits. A person in a borrowed lounge chair, wrapped-up cozy in a couple wool blankets, can't do much at that point but watch and listen and tug a corner of blanket around his noggin to keep the wind out of his ears... so that's what I did.
It got sort of exciting for a bit. But most folks seemed to sleep right through it and I didn't hear anyone sing out for help... and the number of miscreants at breakfast was no less than the count at last light, so I reckon it all worked out OK.
Thanks so much to Ethan and everyone for a wonderful weekend of belly-laughs and good clean fun and silliness! And the quieter conversations, too.