Chaco tans and cornbread pans by Joe

Every day starts almost the same.  Wake up too hot, step outside and it’s too cold.  My nose is too stuffy to breath through.  I stumble through the morning twilight to the horrid smelling portapotty.  I then try to help the cooking crew with any last minute preparations.  As I eat, I wait for my allergy pills to take effect.  This is my ideal situation.

Currently I am sitting on a grassy hill with a large flat rock on my lap as a table.  I love camping.   I do miss my family and friends.  As I sit here and think about my trip highlights I have realized that a major component is injuries.  Everyone has a myriad of bruises and cuts.  It seems like half of my shins are scabs or scrapes.  I don’t bruise easily but I have a dollar coin sized blackspot on my left knee.  I haven’t had one in years.  I have suffered multiple forearm lacerations from brush.  I am not nearly as bad as some others.  Some of the girls are black and blue all up and down their legs.

We all wear our battle wounds with pride, hoping we have the most impressive wounds.