Gathering, Part the First

I returned home from the Mid-Atlantic Men's Gathering this afternoon. I dropped my stuff at the door, took off my clothes, and fell into bed for a nap. The weekend's events have left me a little drained.

I schlepped my camping gear to the train station Thursday evening. I should have allowed more time, because all the gear was a little heavy and I didn't leave very much time to rest. Dennis had offered to drive me to the station, but I declined. It was only five blocks, right? Well, carrying all that stuff was a little wearying.

I managed to board the train and met Doug M. at Union Station in DC. After dropping by Jeff M.'s house to pick up a tent for Doug, we went to Doug's house to pack up the rest of his stuff, then we drove to Cumberland, MD, where we stayed the night with Greg M., another friend of Doug's.

We had brunch Friday morning at a little coffee shop in downtown Cumberland. It was a beautiful morning, and the patio area in front of the coffee shop was bright and cool. After brunch, we stopped at an art gallery, where we chatted with Shane, who already knew Greg. We also stopped in at a dollar store and the Goodwill.

Doug left us to visit his dad who was in the hospital for some surgery, and Greg gave me a little tour of Cumberland on his Vespa. I had a great time riding along behind him, enjoying the scenery.

Doug rejoined us and we drove to the Men's Gathering, which was only about 20 miles away from Cumberland. I had borrowed a tent from John T. and Glen, and setting it up was just as easy as they had promised. It was up in about sixty seconds and I quickly moved my gear inside.

There was some time before the welcoming circle that opens the Gathering, so Greg and I took a dip in the creek at the swimming hole called Hemlock Hollow, or something like that. The water was pretty cold, but bearable once you got in. Greg dived in; I just walked out into the water. If I had thought ahead, I would have had my hair cut for the event. Longer hair is harder to take care of when camping.

More later.

Gathering, Part the Second

This weekend was all about camping for me. My family used to go camping often when I was a child. In fact, whenever my father was transferred to a different Navy base, we'd take a few weeks to travel there in our camper van. We camped from Portsmouth, VA to San Diego, CA to Atlanta, GA to Honolulu, HI (there was a plane trip from San Fransisco, smart assses). When my dad retired, we took one last trip across the nation to Jacksonville, Florida.

And then we stopped camping. Actually, maybe we only went camping when we were moving. It's all a little hazy now. I know that I've been in most of the 48 states on the mainland, but I only remember a few places, like Yellowstone Park, or Crater Lake.

So I haven't been camping in years — decades, really — and I was eager to try it out again.

Camping is inconvenient, unless you're bringing along an RV. Lots of little inconveniences. Plumbing is hard to come by. Bugs crawl into your tent. The rain is much more immediate, in that you can't insulate yourself away from the weather. There was a kitchen serving us, but you had to walk to it. And it got damn cold at night. If you don't like being inconvenienced, then camping is not for you.

I loved it. I loved waking up to birdsong. I loved standing in a circle around the fire with wonderful men, rotating like a chicken in a rotisserie, craning my head back to stare at the field of stars. I loved striding through the grass, naked to the world, or sitting with a bunch of other nude guys getting a henna tattoo.

It rained at least once a day. I had pitched my tent on a shallow slope, but I pitched with the entrance upslope, so apparently the rain puddled in front and leaked into the tent, pooling along the wall at the bottom of the slope, soaking the foot of my sleeping bag. Fortunately, I noticed in the afternoon and managed to dry it out before it was time for bed. Did I mention that the nights were cold? A damp sleeping bag would have been bad, very bad.

Saturday night was the evening of the Scholarship Auction (which provides funds to offer reduced fee registrations for men who need a little help), hosted by Nurse Lucy Mangina and Doctor Schlivago and his alter-ego, Mrs. Hind. Mrs. Hind was introduced, but we didn't see anymore of her, except when the Doctor was trying on some dress that was going up for bid, dresses that he often bid on himself. The Doctor and Nurse Lucy did a wonderful job blending the business of the auction with an entertaining show.

Sunday night was the No-Talent Talent Show, where everybody was encouraged to strut their stuff up on stage. I was suffering from an allergic rash aggravated by a sunburn (more in another entry), so I didn't participate in the parade of ribbon-twirling newbies that accompanied Scorch with his flag-dancing. I was in the audience, bundled up in my fleece, a sheet and a blanket, trying not to shiver with fever. :-\

For me, the high points of the show were the Backroom Boys (Which Backstreet Boy Is Gay &mdash flash required), Whisper's Ernest Paisley character, Snowbaal's story-telling and Kelly's Prophet. It was a fine show!

There were some activities during the day. Knitting, story-telling, yoga in the morning, massage, erotic touch, discussions of masculinity, mid-life, Tarot, Faeries. There were drumming and dancing workshops.

One of the activities was "Boys and their balls," which was a period for guys to run around and play in the field with frisbees and balls. It was quickly apparent that none of us were especially skilled in the hand-eye coordination thing, and when someone walked by with a sandwich from the kitchen, the group decided that they were suddenly hungry and abandoned the field to go eat. I suspect they were more interested in escaping further displays of uncoordination than eating. :-)

I mentioned my allergic reaction to my sleeping bag. I'll write more about that drama when I get the pictures from Jerran. It should suffice to say that I'm going to have my doctor look at it tomorrow. :-\

A Programming Note

We were encouraged to add our contact information to the list of men attending the gathering, so I added my information, including the address of this journal. So I figure I might say a little something to the boys who come sniffing around.

This journal is for me. Or, as I like to say, "welcome to Me-ality®!" My friends (and complete strangers, for that matter) are welcome to follow along, but I try hard to remember that my real audience is myself. For instance, sometimes I just drop in things that aren't that interesting, but that I want to remember.

I hope that you enjoy my musings. Feel free to comment!