We’re not the stay-in-a-hotel types. It’s too expensive and way less fun than being outside with your friends (when it’s not raining). But we’re really not organized enough to plan ahead and reserve a regular camping spot either-- and that’s where locals come in handy. When we got to Redding, our friend Justin insisted that he knew of “the best campsite ever” but it was going to require a little bit of planning and effort… not always our forte. He convinced us it would be worth the work.
A winding one-lane road led us to a sketchy dirt road that seemed to go straight downhill. “Are we in the right place?”
A break in the trees revealed what was in fact THE perfect campsite. Flat, big enough for seven, far away from other humans, and right on a crystal clear stream. Everyone was equally motivated, and within minutes camp was set up, the fire was roaring, and the boys were busting out the BB guns to start sniping empty Modelos from the back of the van.
For five days this place was home, and we were all quick to get comfortable with our surroundings. Breakfast cooked by Jason, early morning dips in the creek, and afternoon target practice were the cadence of the day.
“Are we in the right place?” we had asked ourselves earlier. We most definitely were.
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D: Wow. 33. What would your teenage self have thought about that age? And what are you thinking on your 33rd birthday?
Corey: Sixteen years ago I would have thought it was old as dirt. 33 feels young now. The number 33 has a good ring to it.