Mount Laguna

// weekend wanderings //

By Lauren di Matteo

WRITTEN BY NICOLE BRAVO

We need to do this more often.

The oft repeated phrase at the beginning—and end—of every camping trip, slips through my lips. Yet somehow, weeks turn into months before we ever make it back again. Life gets in the way. Our calendars fill up with work and play, projects and parties, and once again we find ourselves swept up in the rapid, reactionary rhythm of life. We move from one thing to the next as this carousel spins us round and round, and no matter how much we try to slow down, our efforts seem futile. The thought occurs to us to get off the carousel altogether—and finally we manage to, once again.

The car is packed full of supplies; with more food than we could possibly eat, more clothes and blankets than we need, and a precious friend or two who are up for a weekend away. As we start the climb up Mt. Laguna, we roll down the windows to breathe in that first whiff of good ol’ mountain air. When we finally reach the campsite we take in the view, the gorgeous mountains and valleys, the pine trees towering above, and great oaks spreading wide around us.

We let out deep sighs, unconsciously. No one has to tell us to relax, our bodies do it automatically as if they know we’re home—like we were made for this place. Every tense muscle relaxes and every pensive, furrowed brow gives way to a smile. Our hearts grow lighter and the rhythm of our breathing begins to match that of the leaves, swaying to the soothing breeze. As we unload and setup camp our movements are unhurried, yet efficient and full of strength.

Everything is simple and uncomplicated when we’re up here. We sleep when we want, wake when we want, eat when we want, play when we want. Each moment is truly ours to do with as we please. There are no pressing matters, no schedules to keep, no phones to distract, or watches ticking, urging us onto the next thing. We live as effortlessly as the subtle movement of the sun and the moon and the stars.

Heading into the forest, we collect firewood by the sweat of our brow, and find it exhilarating. Dry brush becomes kindling for a fire we build with our own primordial hands. And as it burns, fiery hot, we’re filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment. We cook all manner of items over those open flames and eat like kings because we can. It’s one of our favorite things to do, and every dish tastes a million times more delicious when consumed in the great outdoors.

We feel boundless here. We skip and jump and run like little children. We wander through the woods because curiosity leads us there. We hike unknown trails and climb precarious heights. And stare off into the distance, pondering the brevity of life and the joy of a rapidly beating heart.

And as the moonlight shines on those glowing red embers, we tell stories, sing to our hearts’ content, laugh whole-heartedly, and relish the sweetness of now—the beauty of this very moment. As coals turn to ash, we crawl into our sleeping bags beneath a star-studded sky, shivering at the biting cold. Utterly exhausted, we fall into a peaceful sleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow. Our waking hours seem to expend every last drop of energy when we find ourselves living fully, in the freedom of these mountains.

Yet when the sound of a night critter wakes us to a display of splendor overhead, we can’t help but climb out of our tent to stare in wonder. The farthest reaches of the Milky Way Galaxy are in full view and we are reminded of how very small we are in the grand scheme of time and space. How light and momentary our present troubles, worries, and fears. It is here, in full view of such beauty and glory, that we find the strength and courage to overcome all that we face in the valleys below.