..and your thoughts on the future are, Ben?
I went camping last night up on the North Yorkshire Moors with a few friends - for anyone unfamiliar: the N.Y. Moors is a vast, vast area of mountainous valleys that are blanketed in heather and seemingly populated by nothing much beyond hordes of curious sheep. It's also bloody cold at the best of times.
Anyway, we got up there, set up camp and headed straight into the pub whos garden we were nested upon (coincidentally the only pub for miles. Good call). From here we ordered a meal and I had a moving chat with a stranger about mountain bikes. After the meal, we hit the sack (around 10pm). It was bloody cold and socialising wasn't really on the cards. I was slightly miffed as my viens were running with the urge for adventure of some sort as I'd just finished reading 'The Beach' a few hours earlier. So I went to sleep feeling unfulfilled to say the least.
Strangely I woke up at some unknown hour for some reason or another. I could hear the crackling of fire and the dull hum of distant laughter from the other end of the field. I checked my phone: it was 2:50am. I decided to get out and go see what was going on: there seemed to be a gathering of some sort, so I woke up my mates, none of whom were interested in exiting their sleep and ultimately the tent (and quite frankly pissed off at me for waking them up).
Regardless, it was adventure I craved and adventure I would have - I grabbed a few beers and cautiously mulled my way across the field and towards the flickering silhouettes of the unknown figures.
20 meters: A dark, blurred outline was all I could make out along with some faint chatter.
10 meters: The harsh outlines gained some features from the fire's illumination.
2 meters: Ah, the sickly-sweet aroma of weed hit me. Eyes squinted and arms stretched out, bearing the beer-themed peace offerings, I introduced myself:
"Hi, mind if I join you?"
"no man, take a seat"
Fucking A, I'd found the only hippies on the entire moors! Woo! Well I say hippies, that's maybe too strong a term, but they seemed to represent everything hippyish I knew, bar the dreads and so forth.
We had a pleasant chat about anything and everything - mostly of a forthcoming-doom nature revolving around what the future could possibly hold, or more to the point, what it wouldn't hold. Pretty interesting stuff. Regardless, I had a laugh and a good think, as I'm sure they all did too.
Time flew and the dark-sky was starting to light up as the sun apparantly answered its cue to emerge from beyond the horizon. And, respectively, the fire was on it's way out: It was time to hit the sack, again.
A decent night. Not quite an adventure on the scale of 'the beach', but certainly good to meet new people and shoot the shit in such unexpected circumstances.
Oh yeah, regarding 'The Beach': It's an excellent book. I strongly advise it to anyone who's not seen the film; and I advise it more so to anyone who has seen it and thought it was shite (like myself).
Anyway, we got up there, set up camp and headed straight into the pub whos garden we were nested upon (coincidentally the only pub for miles. Good call). From here we ordered a meal and I had a moving chat with a stranger about mountain bikes. After the meal, we hit the sack (around 10pm). It was bloody cold and socialising wasn't really on the cards. I was slightly miffed as my viens were running with the urge for adventure of some sort as I'd just finished reading 'The Beach' a few hours earlier. So I went to sleep feeling unfulfilled to say the least.
Strangely I woke up at some unknown hour for some reason or another. I could hear the crackling of fire and the dull hum of distant laughter from the other end of the field. I checked my phone: it was 2:50am. I decided to get out and go see what was going on: there seemed to be a gathering of some sort, so I woke up my mates, none of whom were interested in exiting their sleep and ultimately the tent (and quite frankly pissed off at me for waking them up).
Regardless, it was adventure I craved and adventure I would have - I grabbed a few beers and cautiously mulled my way across the field and towards the flickering silhouettes of the unknown figures.
20 meters: A dark, blurred outline was all I could make out along with some faint chatter.
10 meters: The harsh outlines gained some features from the fire's illumination.
2 meters: Ah, the sickly-sweet aroma of weed hit me. Eyes squinted and arms stretched out, bearing the beer-themed peace offerings, I introduced myself:
"Hi, mind if I join you?"
"no man, take a seat"
Fucking A, I'd found the only hippies on the entire moors! Woo! Well I say hippies, that's maybe too strong a term, but they seemed to represent everything hippyish I knew, bar the dreads and so forth.
We had a pleasant chat about anything and everything - mostly of a forthcoming-doom nature revolving around what the future could possibly hold, or more to the point, what it wouldn't hold. Pretty interesting stuff. Regardless, I had a laugh and a good think, as I'm sure they all did too.
Time flew and the dark-sky was starting to light up as the sun apparantly answered its cue to emerge from beyond the horizon. And, respectively, the fire was on it's way out: It was time to hit the sack, again.
A decent night. Not quite an adventure on the scale of 'the beach', but certainly good to meet new people and shoot the shit in such unexpected circumstances.
Oh yeah, regarding 'The Beach': It's an excellent book. I strongly advise it to anyone who's not seen the film; and I advise it more so to anyone who has seen it and thought it was shite (like myself).
posted by Ben at
4:44 AM
