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Stepping Back Into Childhood
Those of you who follow Photo Trek regularly know that by and large, each entry is dedicated to photography...not always my own, but photography nonetheless. I'm going to stray from that norm for an entry so bare with me. Hey, its my journal, and I'll take it in whatever direction I want to. Well, I'll try to throw in a picture for the purists out there by the end of the entry.
Stepping Back Into Childhood....that phrase means a lot of different things to different people. For some it means regressing back to time in their lives where they are not able to fully care for themselves. Yet for others, it is an escape from the world in which their adult bodies and minds now inhabit.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to walk in some of the same places that I once did as a child. I heard some of the same sounds, smelled some of the same aromas, and experienced deja vu more than once. Pilot Mountain is a state park here in North Carolina that I have not camped at in some twenty years. I used to go with my Dad when I was a young child, around 9-13 years old. After having rediscovered camping just this year, Jennifer and I have just now decided to stay at Pilot Mountain. I have now found myself remembering quite vividly some of experiences that I had on that mountain side.
It all began when I arrived and began setting up camp while Jennifer was still at work. This was not the normal tent building event as it has become on past trips. I was not looking into the future of this trip, but looking to the past. I could remember assembling the hard aluminum tent poles that formed the skeleton of the old Hillary tent that Dad and I used. I could hear the hiss of the gas lantern as night came upon us. I recalled taking short hikes into the woods...never any further than we could see the tent though.
Some of my favorite memories started to surface of when I would bring my GI Joe toys and set up bases along the tent pad and on rocks that were scattered on the mountain side. Oh, I could play for hours in woods with those toys. When I tired of action figures, I would dress in my Army Fatigues and grab a couple of toy guns and go fight whatever enemy I found inhabiting these woods. I can just remember the hours that I would spend in a makeshift foxhole defending our camp site.
As I grew older and found interests outside of my toys, I began reading when we went camping. Of course, I was still very much into military topics and read about wars both fictional and historical. I found that it was very easy to transport myself into the battlefield when I was reading in the woods of Pilot Mountain. Remember, it wasn't all that long ago that I was fighting those same battles right behind the tent in that now leaf covered foxhole. Most of my reading was done from a very simple hammock during the days, where I could lose myself in the woods....in the story.
That hammock became a very integral part of my camping experience as a child. Not only would I read in the gently swinging hammock, I would listen to my Walkman for hours on end. For those of you younger readers, its like a large MP3 player that plays an audio cassette. And yes, I do know what a record is...all three sizes thank you very much. I always felt comfortable in that hammock when I was camping
Fast forward to the present...after laying in my new hammock on several different camping trips, I had come to view it as just another piece of equipment that I can relax on. It was nothing special, but I still enjoyed it. The first time I shimmied into it on this trip to Pilot Mountain, I could sense a difference. Those memories that had begun while I was setting the tent up, just came alive as I was swinging gently in the afternoon breeze. I found myself smiling as I was instantly transported into those books I had read, all those hours I had spent defending the camp, and of course driving jeeps and tanks all over the grounds.
I looked down, and my feet and legs looked unfamiliar to me....these obviously belonged to an adult with worries, responsibilities, and people that depended on him. These were not the feet that belonged in this hammock....or were they the feet that desperately needed to be in this hammock on this particular mountain. I started to realize with more clarity why I enjoy the woods as much as I do....more specifically, the mountain woods. I spent a lot of time here as I was leaving childhood and entering young adulthood. It was the last time in my life where very little outside of my own needs mattered. Of course, an adult can't live that way, so I slowly forgot what it was like to leave reality and create your own here and now.
Photography has opened that particular door again for me. I have an excuse to go out into the woods again and focus on exactly what I want to focus on. The difference now is, my reality is no longer trapped within my head. The things that I choose to think about when I am out in the woods tend to manifest themselves into the scenes that draw my eyes. As a photographer, I am able to record those things the way I see them, and then share them.
On the last day of our trip, I found myself once again in my hammock staring at my feet. The feet I saw were no longer those of a stranger. They were my feet, the feet of a photographer.
Carefree Days Photo Copyright © 2007 G. Kiser
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Greg, You are so marvelous with words. I followed you along as a child beause I did just about the same thing while camping with Mom and Dad. But I wasn't a soldier I was a cowboy chasing the Indians on my trusty steed. Those were the carefree days.
Such a good picture of you in the hammock. I love the woods to, Greg. I find peace there. When I think of all you see in those woods as you search for pictures
It makes me want to walk right now into the forest. Thanks for sharing your story.
I enjoyed it very much.
Myke -
Greg. That was such a 'nice share'. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
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I had a hammock just like that Greg! My uncle was in the merchant navy and they used to make their own hammocks to sleep in, he made me one too. I loved it. Thanks for sharing your memories of childhood. Jeannette xx
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I'm so glad I came here tonight, to share in this memory with you. When I look back on my childhood, it almost seems surreal.. Some memories are vivid while others remain foggy to this day. My memories of camping, fishing, boating and quiet times are my most favorite ones to visit as well.
Glad YOU found some warmth in those memories too, and that you were able to rekindle those feelings of the "younger years".
Chelle
11/2/07 9:21 PM