"I met her, a gin-soaked, bar-room queen, in Memphis..."

The Rolling Stones are a perfect companion on a 6 hour 'middle-of-nowhere' road trip.

I learned this the past week as I encountered my first time on a camping trip. Ever.

You should all be proud of me, as I not only survived, but also enjoyed myself and my experiences in the outer reaches of Okanagan National Forest, caught in limbo between central Washington and the Canadian border.

I caught my first fish, a 14 inch Rainbow trout. I named him Gilbert. Then I scaled him. And decapitated him. And slit open his stomach and pushed his tiny fish intestines out with my thumb.

I have not related this unfortunate story to my goldfish Buffy. She doesn't need to know.

I rowed around and around and around on a canoe with Becca, suntanned for hours in float tubes in the middle of a very remote mountain lake, and ate smores and played guitar by firelight underneath the stars.

I went for 5 days without a shower. I am just as amazed as you are.

I shot a shotgun.... twice.

I thought about a lot of things on my camping trip, and I got lost in my own history along the way.

I confronted a very large demon in my past, and reconnected with a part of myself I had completely blocked from recollection.

I was chased down by my memories of growing up on a six-acre lot in the middle of overgrown trees, and I forced myself to face some of my worst fears head-on.

I was inspired by a thousand new things to write about, and I was blessed with a few very spiritual moments.

I'm glad to be back.

There really is no other place like home.

Sending you all the chocolate chips in the world,

Hannah