Sunrise on camp one, day two of a 4-day solo adventure across the pacific northwest from Seattle through some of the west's wildest territory back to Denver City. A pretty good road trip.

Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest

Junior Point Camp, Shady Pass

Chelan County, Washington

0601, 080621

Crossing through expansive wilderness areas with brutal elevation gains, questionable year-round weather, and grizzly bears, you have to wonder why many of these remote towns exist.

Sure, other than the obvious combined with a little hard work and grit, but how did they even survive a winter, let alone generations? Did folks realize the first step to success was not dying? It wasn't luck, not all piss and vinegar, but learning from things that didn't kill them, which was pretty much everything.

It all came down to two essential points, wake up in the morning dead or well, buddy, tomorrow morning is always iffy at best. Have a great day not getting cholera or kicked in the head by a mule.

There's little romance for me in that way of living, but it's too busy in camp to chew on that; the GPS isn't working, the coffee needs making, I've got maps here somewhere.

So now, take this campsite mentioned above; the Jeep is tucked into the trees thinking they would block the wind, the wind I anticipated, sure, but not the freight trains that came crashing into camp. You could hear the gusts building steam as they washed up the canyon walls, flooding over the ridge. If that sounds dramatic, it's because it was, and it looked like a bad sign on the first night of the trip. If I've learned anything, a tree splintering in the murky darkness is never a good start to any adventure. To be clear, no good comes from a tree blowing apart in the shadows of a hell storm.

The phrase is almost a parody of itself at this point, a local TV station interviewing the lucky survivor of a storm; you can hear it in your head, "It sounded like a freight train," and in the background, their lives lay in ruins. They are thankful to be alive, grateful they got the dog in the cellar.

The campsite got real loud real quick, but this time the Jeep, the dog, and the driver made it through the night. No TV crew to greet us, no homesteader ghost warning us in a fever dream of impending doom, just a restless night.

Even with hard lessons, nothing is easily predictable. The temperature will drop, and it will get windy on a ridgeline. It's all a unique challenge that rewards you in the moment and for a lifetime. Each time you go out, you make the road even smoother, metaphorically speaking.

A rule of thumb for finding a good campsite is to look around. Do you see bear poop, is there a whole lot of poop, is it fresh? Are live trees splintered in two like a toothpick, or even more common than a bear is dead trees or snags from beetle infestation, fire, drought, or disease.

Give yourself options; this is not 1873, but go for it, within reason and comfort level. If the weather, wildfire, sneaky dead trees, and bears don't get ya, the cowboy coffee certainly will.

Trust the sunrise view will be worth it because tomorrow mornings out here can still be iffy at best.