Sorry for the drop in posts this weekend, but we went Camping on Naked Mountain. Actually, on the property of my sister's friend's dad in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia, on a hill called Naked Mountain. Camping on someone's property doesn't sound like camping, but as I was told on the way there, you will understand when we get there. Let's see if you can.

We pulled off the road and crossed a wooden plank bridge that hadn't been repaired for what seemed like my 28 years of existence; and parked next to the house, as this was the only way onto the property. A short hike of 1/2 mile through the woods, led by the resident dog named Lance brought us to a clearing with a Jeep, a riding lawnmower with trailer attachment, fire pit, 3 tents, and a group of friends.


Shortly after we got there, the father, who is as interesting of a person as I've ever met. The man had "I was a TRUE hippie" written all over him, and his stories flowed like listening to Tommy Chong on That 70's Show. On a hairy ride in an old Ford 350 through a hay field that hadn't been mowed in years, Mike brought us to the top of the pasture to look out at the Blue Ridge Mountains and told us the history of our surroundings, as well as being very descriptive on how the local coyotes find water and their dens. The road back to camp was NOT the amusing drive through an overgrown hay field, but more resembled a ride through the Amazon Jungle in Guyana. I thought it was more amusing to tell the truth.

The afternoon events shed light on the one friend with a 9mm strapped to his side as he prepared his arsenal for our enjoyment. An old WWII bolt-action rifle with 4inch cartridges and an earth-shattering boom, the previously mentioned 9mm, an old AK-47 flip-stock Kalashnikov, and a replica AK-47 Kalashnikov that had just been milled. I was honestly amazed at how smoothly an ak47 will fire. As local laws state, none of the weapons were fully automatic, but still invigorating to fire; and all safety precautions were taken.

A walk back down the path with only myself and Misha in the evening proved to be the best, as we had no flashlight, and it was pitch black. I had to trust my dog to lead me to where I needed to be and never once did we run off the path. At about midnight, we all decided to split into teams of 2 and walk to the grass field to look at the stars in all their glory, ALL WITHOUT flashlights. Not only did the stars look incredible, but the train had just blown it's whistle and caused the family of 10+ coyotes to start howling, barking, and crying. Misha wasn't even phased, but she was as interested as we were.

We packed up the next morning as the rain spit it's first drops, and made it down the trail, and to the cars JUST as the skies opened up. 30mins, the storm passed, and we were back home Who says you can't go camping in your own backyard and have it be the same or better than paying 'ole mom and pop to camp in the spot they provide, with their rules you must obey, and the loud drunken neighbors that you cannot help but listen to every breath they take.