A road race at an island camp, and the pleasure of going nowhere together.
We had gone kayaking to get away from the city. Then Sean introduced me to a card game about driving.
There we were, having traveled by paddle, arranging imaginary automobiles for a race to a finish line neither of us needed to reach. I could appreciate the contradiction. I could also appreciate giving Sean a speed limit.
The game was Mille Bornes, which I called 1000 Bornes in my original account. Sean gave me a flat tire. I slowed his progress. I ran out of gas, and he had an accident. All of it happened in the cards, which is where I prefer that particular collection of troubles.
The part of the trip between the destinations
Outdoor stories often give the miles more attention than the hours spent in camp. We remember the crossing, the weather, the awkward landing. Those are useful things to record. They are not everything that makes a trip worth remembering.
There is also the time when we have stopped traveling and must decide what to do with one another’s company.
A card game gives that time a shape. We have something to consider besides the next departure. We take turns. We pay attention to what the other person is doing. Occasionally, we make a decision calculated to inconvenience a friend. Within reasonable limits, this is called recreation.
What interests me now is how little the activity needed to offer. There was no real road beneath us, no automobile to maintain, and no useful distance being covered. We were playing.
An old game, a new place in the kit
Sean was introducing me to something he thought we might enjoy. That small act belongs among the pleasures of traveling with another person. A companion brings knowledge, habits, and interests we would not necessarily have packed for ourselves.
We tend to recognize this when someone shares a paddling technique or a better way to arrange a shelter. It is just as true when a friend produces a game.
Not every useful thing in camp has to solve a survival problem. Some things help us enjoy being there.
What we make room for
Food is as important as the love of family gathered around the campfire. I give considerable thought to meals because eating together is part of the journey. The time around a meal deserves some room too.
A game can belong in that company. So can a book, a story, or a conversation allowed to wander without being hurried toward a conclusion. None of those requires a grand expedition. They ask us to give another person our attention.
I do not want to turn a pleasant card game into a solemn exercise in character development. Sean had given me a flat tire. The occasion could bear a little laughter.
Still, I value these ordinary parts of outdoor life. They are easy to leave out of the account because nothing especially dramatic happened. Sometimes that is precisely what made the time good.
A race worth remembering
My earlier article explained more of the game and considered how it packed for a kayak trip. Those details have a practical home at Liquid Rhythm Kayaking. Here, what I want to keep is the small surprise of a friend introducing a game, and the pleasure of finding another reason to linger in camp.
We had left the city by kayak and brought a road race along with us. Apparently, getting away from it all still allowed for the occasional traffic problem.
At least this time I knew who had given me the flat tire.
For the original game discussion and packing observations, read 1000 Bornes Card Game at Liquid Rhythm Kayaking. This FloridaOATS essay revisits the same outing through companionship and the quieter pleasures of camp.
Jeffrey John Fabiszewski
FloridaOATS
Leave a Reply