A big meal, a muddy tarp is not a mattress, a big meal, a very big cypress

The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us. Thrilling, tingling, vibrating, every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love. John Muir
“Why did we pack so much?” I exhale in frustration, as we labor to bring the gear up the muddy banks. Ben had the bright idea to dig foot holds into the bank with our paddles, but even so, we have all fallen at least once and we are all caked in mud.
We have brought a 2 gallon Dutch oven, a 10 inch cast iron skillet, a camp stove, a coffee maker, utensils to eat our meals, 2 heavy 12’ by 50’ tarps, rope so as to convert said tarp into a comfortable tent, sleeping bags, pillows, a hammock, two coolers full of drinks, one cooler full of food, and a myriad of small items such as bug spray, lighters etc.
We finally ascend to the top of the bank but find even more mud. We are in a lovely little clearing full of clover and Sericea Lespedeza. The river, which seemed so treacherous a few minutes ago, looked positively sanguine. The normally lazy Hatchie rarely comes to life, but watching the river develop during a rain is akin to watching an old dog playing with a favorite toy. The inner puppy of the Hatchie River has been revealed as it laughs along inside its banks.
I jerk my head back toward the business at hand, there will be time for contemplation when we are dry and our food is cooking. We look around for a high, level, spot where we can stretch a rope between two trees for our tent. We finally decide on two oak trees Joel found. After we lay one tarp down as a base we reach as high as we can and thread the rope back through a loop we have tied and, with some effort, we have a rope tied roughly 6’ off of the ground. We then unfold the second tarp and stretch it over the rope. We now have an open air A-frame tent that should keep the rain out, as well as offer us a view of our surroundings.
We finish hauling the gear into the tent and are excited to step inside, but there is nothing to be excited about. Despite our best efforts we have muddied the tent with our boots and it is a difficult decision as to whether we take off our boots at all. Luckily, I have brought an extra blanket, and after persuading my fellow intrepid boat mates to give me just a second, I ruin a blanket and in the process, make the floor of the tent just clean enough for a group of young men to feel a little relief. We take off our rubber boots, put one of our many trash bags over them to keep them dry, and we step into the tent and out of the rain.  
Absolute relief, despite our numerous fishing stops; we have paddled 12 hours today. It is a wonderful feeling to be dry in our tent with only the job of cooking a meal before we enjoy some much needed sleep. We unpack our utensils and light up the stove. The first lighter does not work, but we have brought four, undoubtedly too many, but with the weight we have sacrificed to have all of this in the boat, I am understandably paranoid about being let down by our equipment.
The camp stove is lit, and its time to see what we have brought for supper. Upon opening the cooler it is apparent no one will go hungry! I have brought eight large lamb chops; Ben has brought two dozen eggs, eight sweet potatoes, two pounds of bacon and two pounds of sausage.
We decide to cook all 24 eggs at once, and we load the Dutch oven down with eggs and water and let it boil. Ben is cooking bacon, an appetizer that will double as the grease for the skillet. I will not be able to describe here how that first piece of bacon tasted. We had a modest breakfast that morning, peanut butter for lunch, and this was good bacon.

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