A Pig's Perspective

“Why sleep outside when you’ve got a house?” - Hudson the mouse

Among the things that we decided were important enough to bring with us on the road--important enough to squeeze into the trailer with us--was a children’s book about a pig. A nice, fat, pink, jovial pig whose best friend was a llama . . . or maybe it was an alpaca . . . then again it could have been a goat. The debate still rages. Regardless, this pig did not always go with the flow. He noticed things in life that others sometimes miss. We like that about him.

One day this pig decided to sleep outside in a tent, much to the surprise and alarm of his neighbors. “Why sleep outside when you’ve got a house?” inquired one neighbor.

The pig ignored all of the questions and criticisms and enjoyed a night in the backyard, reading and listening to crickets. And very early in the morning he watched a flower open as the sun’s morning rays touched it. While everyone slept he enjoyed a perspective that was special.

It is, partly at least, this same attitude that drove us to sell our house and live in a travel trailer. And it is this same attitude that persuaded Paul and I to finally give in to the idea of backpacking.

For years the kids have been pestering us to take them backpacking. And it wasn’t that we didn’t want to; we just didn’t think it was possible. But somehow in the past year or so they were able to convince us that the obstacles--mainly in the way of obtaining and storing gear--were not insurmountable. We slowly began collecting the bags, the tents, and the sleeping bags, and I found places for all of it. The kids joyfully forfeited having normal Christmas and birthday presents so that we could instead put everything toward planning and preparing to trek out into the wilderness and sleep on the ground. Or not sleep, as the case may be . . .

And so, that is how we found ourselves, several weeks ago, huffing and puffing through a spruce forest with ridiculously large loads on our backs, toward a stunning green lake in the Sawatch mountains of Colorado. We were proud of the work we had done to prepare for this day. We were ready! We were strong! . . . and we were absolutely relieved to take a break after only a mile of hiking. This was going to be tougher than we thought . . .

Four miles later we were ready to find a spot for the night. We plopped our bags down and searched for a clearing. When we finally agreed upon a campsite, we split up. Team Mom set up the tents, and Team Dad gathered and filtered water. Despite all of my lists and our meticulous planning, it took us just short of a year and a day to set up camp the way we wanted it. In the end we had three tents huddled together and several 5-liter bags of clean, filtered, and purified lake water set beside a log. The water, glistening like jewels in the sun, was more valuable to us than jewels for the work it took to get it. Maybe we would just look at it . . . after all, using it meant gathering and filtering more. We definitely did not waste one precious drop that weekend!

We all felt better after enjoying dinner by the lake, and we couldn’t wait to get in our tents and try out our sleeping bags. This of course turned out to be chaos. Which is exactly what you would expect when you mix a pack of teenagers, their tired, aching parents, brand-new long-johns, and seven people who don’t like to get in bed with their feet dirty. But eventually we all managed to squeeze into our respective tents and settle down with moderately clean feet and in relative comfort.

That first night was cold! In the morning I unzipped the tiny two-person tent into which Paul and I were crammed and slowly began to unfold myself. As I emerged, ice from frozen condensation on the rain fly showered down on me like shards of glass. The kids were giggling and holding up a camera.

“Let’s get a video of Mom coming out of the tent,” I heard.

When I went over to our water supply to get a drink, I first had to poke through the thick layer of ice that had formed on the top. Hard to believe that by mid-day we would be dripping with sweat from the high-altitude sun!

Our morning hygiene routine was, well, insufficient and yet refreshingly simple, and for some reason the kids found it hilarious to watch Paul and I brushing our teeth amidst the sagebrush. We shivered through the chore of getting dressed and brushing our hair, and then we found a grassy patch in the sun where we could cook breakfast.

Before we left there was a lot of talk about waking up to the smell of bacon, crisping nicely in a frying pan as Caleb deftly turned each strip with the tiny tongs we had bought for just such a purpose. For Caleb was to be the camp cook. Yes, Caleb and I would serve up stacks of fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup and accompanied by sizzling strips of bacon.  But as it turned out, we didn’t bring any bacon. That is okay, though, because the black, scalded blobs of pancake batter were just as crispy. In fact, our crumbly creation was actually quite delicious, and when we were done we licked our fingers and threw the burnt, encrusted frying-pans in a bag. That would be a problem for another day . . .

The rest of our three-day excursion went just as smoothly and we learned a lot, even if we didn’t have gourmet breakfasts and even if we didn’t do the big hike to a mountain pass that we had planned. Instead we found a nice creek, sat beside it, and took a long nap. But in all we counted the trip a success, and we were happy as we trekked back to the car at the end of the weekend. With all this experience under our belts, we were practically ready for anything!

Starting out from camp on our Day 2 excursion

Worth it!

Why would we do this? Why would we buy all that gear to suffer in the wilderness when we have nice, comfy beds in the RV? Why give up hot showers, and plumbing, and a nice kitchen and exchange them for dirt, trees, and tiny pots and stoves? Why sacrifice our vertebrae to carry such enormous loads over hills and valleys and forests?

Because, like the pig in the children’s book, we want a different perspective. To see the mist rise over the lake in the morning and watch a moose eat his breakfast. To wonder at the stars. To enjoy the changing colors of the sunset over snowy peaks. To watch brook trout flash their bright fins under a downed tree in the lake. To take the time to watch ants and beetles scurry in their important work. To look into each other’s faces and enjoy each other’s smiles and learn to know and understand each other without the distraction of everyday life.

But most of all, to be quiet. To be still and silent and to know nothing but God. To know Him and wonder at Him and love Him. To see what He has made and get a glimpse of His glory and know that He is the master of it all. That He is all that matters. This is the balm for the frustrations and heartaches we face. This is peace in the injustice we experience. This is satisfaction when our hearts yearn for things that we think will make us happy. This is the key to battling worry and fear and depression and anxiety. God is in control. The One Who commands the winds and the sea is the One Who promised never to leave us.

Take time today and look carefully at something God has made. The sky. A flower. Water. Your own eye. Take time to consider that every atom of that thing was fashioned and is sustained by your Creator. He does not make mistakes. Be still and know that He is God!

Psalm 46:10; Matthew 8:27; Hebrews 13:5

Photos by Jenny, Kelly, and Joe Venturo

Pig story/quote taken from Rylant, Cynthia. Poppleton in Spring. Scholastic Inc., 1999.