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Waking in a winter wonderland
Every year, between Christmas and New Years Eve, a students' motorcycle club in the east of the country holds their annual Winter Campout. Stoneshop and I join them if we're able; we couldn't make it last year, so this time we were really eager to go. The weather forecast wasn't too bad... cold, rather than wet. Camping in the rain can be done, but I personally don't enjoy it.
We left on our XL600Rs when it was already dark, because of other obligations and because of time spent packing. It didn't matter much: we had enough headlamps and other helpful tools, and we knew the others would have a fire going by the time we got there.
On the way, it was pretty cold. I was constantly moving my fingers, trying to keep the bloodstream going. It was foggy and close to zero; we found out by experience when we rode into a small village with cobblestone roads. The fog had started to condensate on the road's surface and freeze there, covering the stones with a neat thin coat of ice.
I saw a car parked at the side of the road, blinking its lights as a warning; unfortunately, it wasn't very a specific one. Long story short: we both took a tumble. No damage to us, and none worth mentioning to the machines. It took a while to get going again because the bikes had gotten petrol in all the wrong places.
When we reached the camping site, which is very remote, the grass was white with frost, and so were my fingers. But the campfire did its job. Soon we'd put up a tent and cooked a simple meal... after that, the evening was spent chatting, joking, drinking moderately (no one wanted to have to pee more than necessary during the night) and frying oliebollen. One of the campers had brought his Dutch oven (yes, on his bike) and was baking apple-filled pastry using the coals from the fire. It was splendid.
During the next day, we didn't do much apart from gathering firewood in the forest, sitting near the fire, and making coffee and tea and nice things to eat. A great way to unwind.
In the evening, it was campfire-and-oliebollen time again. All very relaxed and pleasant. Bikers always have stories to tell each other, and technical stuff to discuss.
Shortly before we decided to head for our tent, it had begun snowing and I was hoping to be greeted by the sight of a nice white scenery in the morning.
And I wasn't disappointed. It was all really, really pretty.
The snow was more than a handwidth thick. All the trees looked like intricate works of art; each and every twig was lined with brilliantly white.
I went into the forest to pee, and it all looked so beautiful that I almost didn't want to disturb the snowy carpet by peeing a hole into it. There were tracks of birds and rabbits running across it, forming a decorative pattern.
Squatting in the silent white forest, I felt like I was peeing in a department store shop window that was decorated for Christmas. It was probably the prettiest place I ever peed.
After a hearthy breakfast with lots of fried eggs, we all alternated between packing our stuff and going back to the campfire to warm up our hands. We left the campsite nice and clean. Almost all of the firewood we'd gathered had been burned, and it was a lot.
Our bikes were completely covered in snow, but they didn't seem to mind: they both started with a single kick. Freshly fallen snow is slippery, but not terribly so and we had no trouble riding away from the campsite over the unpaved roads. When we reached the tarmac, I was glad to see that it had been cleared with salt, and was just wet and not slippery.
The only thing I'd forgotten to do that morning was, as I found out, to put my pants over my boots instead of inside them. By the time we were halfway home, I was in ice water up to my ankles... so we stopped for lunch. The rest of the trip was spent in the happy knowledge that Stoneshop had called one of our housemates and asked him to switch the sauna on.
All in all, a lovely little adventure.
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Originally Posted by Lord Vader
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