Cows are the most curious animals and enjoy a tent appearing in their field. After looking at it for hours they probably discuss it for weeks. Would not mix cows and dogs especially if they have calves. That is something tangible to be afraid of not boogy men in the dark.
Fear of the dark
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It's all a 'mind game'. Try thinking of the dark as a warm, enveloping blanket.
Daylight opens up the world, whilst darkness closes in & envelopes you in a blanket where your thoughts & dreams can keep you warm & friendly company.
I tend to welcome the dark when camping as it brings all of my past beloved gundogs into my camp where I can again enjoy their company.
I have visions of all my mates sitting around, again keeping me company as they did on so many past hunts & camps.
Knowing my old best mate 'Wayland Max' is beside me, casting a watching eye over me as I sleep, even though I can't see him, is always great reason to welcome night's falling. I always sleep more soundly knowing Max is there beside me.
There have even been nights where I swear I can feel his presence laying at the end of my swag, just the same way he used to sleep there when he was alive. Good friends live on in memories & darkness brings those memories back to geet us.
In time you'll learn that darkness can be your friend & one you'll welcome as it brings back all the past friends you valued so much in life.
Bill.
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I like that last post bill, the darkness does certainly help me think deeper thoughts and conjure up old memories. I like the way you said daylight opens up the world and darkness envelopes you in a blanket with your thoughts and dreams. Might have to nab that for future reference methinks
I liked Maple's post of 31.05, echoing Shakespeare's Hamlet "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
A mate of mine told me just a few days ago that he'd read Beowulf when he was out bothying. He said he ended up peeing in bottles as he was scared to go outside after dark and had real problems convincing himself to close his eyes at night. He isn't someone I'd describe as being easily frightened.
Just you hope that Grendel or, perish the thought... his mother :yikes:, never come for you when you're lying alone in your bivvy one night!
On a more sombre note, as has already been said by others, sensations of fear for no apparent reason are the occasions that stay with you, and you don't need to have been reading a scary story to perceive a change in the ambience. Very many of the remote places I camp or bothy were inhabited for thousands of years. People were born there, fell in love, had children, laughed and sang, had happy, peaceful lives or lived out tragedies. They had beliefs which, whether ranked as superstition by us, were very real to them. I choose to believe they've left something of their trace on the landscape.
I recently had a beneficial few days and nights in a bothy which was once the home of James Hogg, The Ettrick Shepherd's grandfather, William Laidlaw, or Will o' the Phawp, the last man in Ettrickdale known to have conversed with the fairies.
Will and I got along just grand!
I know a hill-man who pours derision on such fancies, but he's already admitted to me that he has never stayed in a bothy or gone camping in the woods alone, and that speaks volumes!
Cheers,
Pango.
A mate of mine told me just a few days ago that he'd read Beowulf when he was out bothying. He said he ended up peeing in bottles as he was scared to go outside after dark and had real problems convincing himself to close his eyes at night. He isn't someone I'd describe as being easily frightened.
Just you hope that Grendel or, perish the thought... his mother :yikes:, never come for you when you're lying alone in your bivvy one night!
On a more sombre note, as has already been said by others, sensations of fear for no apparent reason are the occasions that stay with you, and you don't need to have been reading a scary story to perceive a change in the ambience. Very many of the remote places I camp or bothy were inhabited for thousands of years. People were born there, fell in love, had children, laughed and sang, had happy, peaceful lives or lived out tragedies. They had beliefs which, whether ranked as superstition by us, were very real to them. I choose to believe they've left something of their trace on the landscape.
I recently had a beneficial few days and nights in a bothy which was once the home of James Hogg, The Ettrick Shepherd's grandfather, William Laidlaw, or Will o' the Phawp, the last man in Ettrickdale known to have conversed with the fairies.
Will and I got along just grand!
I know a hill-man who pours derision on such fancies, but he's already admitted to me that he has never stayed in a bothy or gone camping in the woods alone, and that speaks volumes!
Cheers,
Pango.
A few months ago my son, Daniel, asked me to take him jungle camping, just the two of us. His hammock was about 15 meters away from mine and shortly after we were settled in for the night some large-ish mammal decided to have a root around our camp. I sleep in a Hennessy so if you turn on a light all you see is net. I have no idea what the thing was but it was larger than a possum, smaller than a jaguar and was very active.
I had just got my sleeping bag and pad adjusted and really didn't want to climb out and deal with it. I was thinking any second now Dan is going to call out as the thing was closer to him than it was to me. Nothing... I figured he must have been asleep already.
The next morning I asked him if he had heard it.
"Yeah, I heard it! It was right outside my tarp!"
"You didn't call me though."
"You were there, and you must have heard it too. I figured if you didn't have a problem with it I didn't either."
Someday I hope to merit such trust.
Shambling Shaman
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
So do I, my two are just at that age where they love going out. Biggest thing here is Red deer.
Enjoyed a spot of wild camping this weekend. We'd just pitched camp in the middle of a small wood, well off the beaten track, when I saw a hole right next to the camp that looked like a shallow grave. It was about 7' long, 2' wide and 1' deep, vertical sides with spoil heaps either side. Difficult to say whether it was part dug or part filled in but it was definitely manmade as the neatly cut pile of brush to one side confirmed. I won't post pictures just yet as I'm in discussion with a former police officer & he wants to see it for himself first to see if it's worth investigating. It was a creepy thing to find & didn't make for a restful night
Looking forward to Thursday night, going to the scout camp the night before the scouts camp to relax sit by a fire take in the fresh air and scare myself silly at the slightest sound made by a woodmouse scurring through the leaves lol.
Should be a good evening.
Should be a good evening.
5 or 6 of those where I camp, except they are closer onto 6 feet deep. Dont worry about it - tree surgeon friend tells me its them checking soil conditions and strata in the wood before they plant etc. Nothing sinister at all.
I'll upload a pic this weekend if you like, show you what I mean.
Aye - they're checking soil conditions ... or the Deliverance hillbillys are preparing your grave. One of the two.
not questioning the truth of this at all, but i am curious as to why they don't just take cores, it'd be a lot less work
Someone may be planning to plant Pistachio trees, hmmm?
That MUST be it. Which has reminded me of an observation...
During the holidays just gone, myself and the little one went for a mooch over the canal that eventually leads to the Stach-mans branch of the same said canal and the woods neighbouring it. After a while we both got bored of all the mountain bikers passing us and lack of wildlife due to the constant human traffic, so we decided to have a rest and sit down. There's an old lock post thingy that has been mounted on two blocks just by a bridge on a canal basin where three branches of the canal meet (Stourton). This is by a slightly higher wall that backs onto two fields and is perfectly situated for having a rest and watching all the muppets coming and going. After eating about 500 bourbon biscuits and pouring some drinks for us both (not bourbon, she's only six, and she choked on the last Cohiba I gave her). I hitched my butt onto the wall and put my feet onto the lock-thing seat-type benchy wotsit. More comfortable for me as I'm a tall git. At the same time as I was hitching myself into this epic seating position, to view the world from upon high with ironic disdain, I looked over the wall into the field to see what was the other side.. as you do when you shift yourself into viewing positions previously unknown. I found and observed the usual gross amount of human detritus of Tango cans, Red Bulls, Carling and chocolate wrappers and nappies (who changes nappies by a canal and chucks them over the wall in such huge quantities?). There was a load of mountain bike parts too, from inner tubes to seats and pumps. Who the Hell finds that their seat is so uncomfortable that they take it off in favour of sitting on the protruding tube halfway through a nice cycle into the countryside? Bunch of weirdos that come past here for sure. But what really caught my eye was the enormous amount of Sainsbury's Salted Pistachio packets that had built up amongst that lot.
not questioning the truth of this at all, but i am curious as to why they don't just take cores, it'd be a lot less work
That question crossed my mind too.
I can only think that its easier to do a quick dig with a small excavator that they may already have on site, than bring in specialists to core the ground at extra expense.
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