Camping has always been a passion of mine; something that I’ve been doing my whole life and that I want to continue doing forever.
I was lucky enough to have a place in nature that my family provided for me at a young age: a cabin in the Pecos wilderness that was not modern or technological, but rather a place to explore and engage with the natural world without fear. The world has become such a manicured and artificial place that interactions with nature must be sought out, otherwise those interactions will never occur. However, for those like myself who are raised in such a way that spending time in the outdoors is not a hobby, but rather something necessary for life, having a natural haven where you can be surrounded by forest is becoming exceedingly rare.
Our cabin still stands today, lacking much of the modern amenities that people use in their day to day lives. The cabin has no running water, is fueled by a propane tank and woodburning stove, and most importantly has no internet connection or cell phone service. The most modern aspect about the old homestead is the gift of working electricity, which is rarely used but is a blessing when it is needed. The cabin stands timeless and unmoved by the changes around it, a place where a child can grow older and imagine any life they want without having to worry about what is or isn’t possible. I spent many afternoons standing on its weathered balcony, listening to the creaking floorboards as I paced around and imagined what life would be like when it became my turn to own a piece of this magical place.
Time does not stand still, however, even in a place where it runs so slow that a visitor may think they've gone back in time. The area around the cabin has changed drastically and continues to change with each passing visit. Buildings continuously seem to sprout up from the ground, cabins much more modern and picturesque than ours. One of which is a newer cabin across the creek, owned by my grandparents. It adds many of those amenities that were lacking from the first: running water, internet, and fewer encounters with rodents and other wildlife. While it is still not as modern as a home may be, it has changed the feeling of being in the same mountains that shaped my upbringing.
As I said before, time does not stand still, no matter how much we wish it would, and not all change is bad. These changes have shown that we are able to move with time, update what needs to be updated, and continue to preserve that which we can. The new cabin did not replace the old, nor does it stand in competition with it. They live together in a harmonious fashion, both standing alone against time and irrelevance. My family only makes it down to the cabin a few times a year, myself even more infrequently during these last three years that I had lived away. In those times when no one is around, they remain; statues of family history and childlike optimism in defiance of a fast paced world. Lifeless, but full of memory. Each as warm as the hearts of those that have had the pleasure to gaze on their wonder and feel the love within their wooden walls. I look forward to the day when I can return to the mountains and breathe in the air of antiquity, letting time and worry slip away as I bask in the glow of unending calm. While the wood of the buildings may one day rot, the memory of all that has passed in their shadows will remain.
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