I spent the weekend with Conor, Claire, and Allison taking a road trip to the land of the Subaru: New Hampshire. Our destination, which I argue IS as important as the journey, was Lake Umbagog National Park where we planned to camp overnight. Since check-in ended at sundown, the car ride out became a four-hour race against the clock to reach the camp – think of it as the Daytona 500 for people who listen to Noah Kahan.
Once we pulled into Lake Umbagog and walked to the shore, I felt a huge wave of relief. The water was so still and the air was quiet. A quarter of a mile away a fishing boat drifted across the water and I could hear a man sneezing as if he were right next to me. To my left a paper birch was shedding its fall leaves, and I watched as they floated down and made soft crunches against the sand. There’s too much noise back home. This past year I went from living in the center of downtown to moving to a neighborhood next to an airport. Everything buzzes and roars and hums, but on that lake I found silence.
I haven’t been camping in a long time. As a teenager, my parents would send me on Outward Bound-style trips over the summer. For two weeks, me and a dozen other very lucky kids would go on a camping-focused excursion led by counselors in their 20s. Those trips exposed me to beautiful places like Oregon, Colorado, and Hawaii and I got to discover how much I loved being in nature. I know a lot of people don’t like being away from showers and central heating, but I don’t mind. I love the heat of a fire, the feeling of cold morning air, and the simplicity of hiking up a mountain trail while leaving all your anxieties and problems at the bottom.
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