#camping vibes
Obscurity & Oak Leaves(on Instagram) by Marisa Renee
I find myself unmistakably drawn to oak trees and their leaves. This image from 2019 was the first time I’d seen native gamble oak in Colorado. We camped under these low sprawling trees tucked in behind the Uncompahgre River in Ridgway and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that obscurely magical trip.
Post link
Sometimes we just need to disconnect for a while; distance ourselves from the humdrum of life and regain clarity.⠀
A few weeks ago I surprised Ben with a trip to Snowdonia for his birthday. Although we’ve driven extensively across Europe in our van, we’ve never taken the time to explore much on our home island, and Snowdonia was a place we’d always wanted to see.⠀
A six hour drive used to seem like a long way to us, but now as the miles are racking up under our belts the world is starting to seem smaller, and Wales suddenly didn’t seem that far away.⠀
This time however we opted to ditch the van, and take our five day stint away back to basics. We loaded up the car with sleeping bags, tent, walking boots, axe, coal, a tarpaulin- not that at this point we knew just how much we’d need one.⠀
We hit the road and immediately our shoulders felt lighter as the burden of routine was lifted. ⠀
When we were still in uni, I used to drive us all over Cornwall in my little, clapped-out old Polo. We’d set up camp on the cliffs, on the sands of an empty beach, or camp in the car if somebody forgot to pack the tent poles. We’d stay up til sunrise talking around the fire, in awe of the crashing waves below and the distant lights of ships on the horizon hovering above coastal fog. After a couple hours sleep at most we’d pack up our wind-flattened tent as walkers passed by and laughed, and drag ourselves into the nearest public toilets for a wash.⠀
It’s these kind of memories- haphazard, spontaneous and wonderfully simplistic that we look back on fondly, and it’s these days that inspired us to undertake an equally haphazard trip to Wales with nothing but ourselves, an old, crumpled road atlas and a car full of camping gear. We left in search of peace, in search of isolation and beautiful corners of this island, and boy did we find them.⠀
Story continues on Sunday!⠀
⠀
Deep in the heart of North Albania, nestled in the foothills of the Albanian Alps, lies a curious little town named Pukë (pronounced Puka).
An intriguing blend of old stone houses and Alpine-inspired architecture with a tall, white mosque tower rising proudly out of the centre, the town of Pukë is one of the highest in the country. Surrounded on all sides by sprawling pine forest, with the snow-lined peaks of the Accursed Mountains looming imposingly in the distance, it was the perfect place for us to spend a week getting a taste of rural Albanian life.
As we walked in search of our morning coffee and byrek the streets were alive with activity; women walking around with armfuls of fresh bread, crowds of men chatting and smoking in the local billiard halls, children crowding at the school gates to buy snacks from a vendor and people stocking up their cars with supplies from the mini market, to take to some faraway village no doubt.
Over the course of the next few days we would begin to recognise the same faces; likewise the bakers and shopkeepers we visited had begun to recognise us. The same police car patrolled slowly up and down the main street, its two officers smoking cigarettes and stopping to chat or move on the occasional badly parked car.
It had a wonderfully small town feel to it that reminded us so much of Cornwall and made us feel instantly safe and welcome. This was only day one of our time here and already we had so much to look forward to…
If you’re ever in the North of Albania make sure you hit up our friends at @discover_puka for a truly authentic experience of Albanian life and a tour of this beautiful area of the world.
Alone in the wild.⠀
⠀
We can never truly be alone, no matter how remote we go in our van. Because if we can drive it, someone else can too.⠀
But still we like to find these hidden crevices, areas of land with no purpose and no reason to visit them. We like to tuck ourselves so far out of the way we might not see another person for days, for reasons we can’t explain.⠀
It’s difficult to put into words, my desire to meet people and hear their stories in every corner of the world we go, and the yearning to conceal ourselves away like some childish game of hide and seek, except no one’s going to come looking.⠀
I can’t explain it, but I find solace in knowing I’m not the only one.⠀
In a particular chapter of a very well-known book Jon Krakauer finds himself climbing to the top of an Alaskan mountain so remote it hasn’t seen a visitor in years, risking his life in the snow, all in the name of solitude. The lengths he would go to to escape humankind, and the loneliness that struck him once he was back amongst them- that story sticks in my mind, always.⠀
Some may find unabounded silence and space unnerving, the knowledge that if something goes wrong you’re stuck out here. But we relish in it, the what if’s outweighed by the bliss of isolation. The possibility that maybe, just maybe, not one person has ever camped in this spot before and we might be the first.⠀
The solitude quells our minds as much as it unnerves them, but still the excitement of adventure keeps us pushing onwards into evermore distant corners of the earth.⠀
P.S. Can anyone name the book?
