tramping
tramping
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE BED
Rise with the lark and with the lark to bed,Observe some solemn sentimental owl;But first, before we make ourselves a fool or fowl,Let us enquire if the larks have any beds at all.
Rise with the lark and with the lark to bed,Observe some solemn sentimental owl;But first, before we make ourselves a fool or fowl,Let us enquire if the larks have any beds at all.
Rise with the lark and with the lark to bed,Observe some solemn sentimental owl;But first, before we make ourselves a fool or fowl,Let us enquire if the larks have any beds at all.
Rise with the lark and with the lark to bed,
Observe some solemn sentimental owl;
But first, before we make ourselves a fool or fowl,
Let us enquire if the larks have any beds at all.
THEY have, they have. The tramp is a lark of a kind, and makes a little nest each night. It is apt to be a pleasant place. There are few “restless pillows” in the open-air bed. England, of course, is not the country for it. There is so much rain and dew that the sleeper out of doors is like to develop fungoid. But in America the ordinary population is soéprisof the fresh, uncovered night, that nearly everyone outside the great cities sleeps at least on the porch, or in a garden hammock slung between trees.
I am prejudiced in favor of that kind of tramping where one sleeps out. Strictly speaking, if one sleeps in hotels or houses, it is not a tramp but a walking tour. You cannot afford to be divorced from Nature, and the winds at sundown. The continuity of day and night in the open is golden gain. The objections against it in a dry healthful climate are commonly trivial. For instance, danger. Some think it dangerous. They believe they may be attacked by robbers or by wild beasts. But robbers do not search the woods and the wilderness for likely victims. Unless, by your behavior you should attract attention, there is not the slightest risk of interference on the part of man. I can imagine some rather rich dandified intemperate pair going singing along the road from some wayside pothouse when they have incontinently advertised their intention of sleeping out. The bad lad of the village, or some local wag, has overheard, anddetermines on a hold-up. The victims have themselves to blame.
As evening comes on, the tramp should become more shy. It is a mistake to choose one’s evening camp in full view of the highway. For one’s own subsequent peace of mind it is better to have been unobserved. Though if you are a stout fellow, why worry? I have had midnight visitors before now, and have stirred up the embers of the fire to make another pot of coffee, but it has generally been pleasant and interesting, a diversion.
As regards wild beasts, that is a danger greatly overestimated. If you are thoroughly wild, the wild beasts will know it and respect you. They much prefer to bite the white, the soft, the civilized and the timid. The puma is an unsociable lady but she may generally be reckoned upon to leave you alone, even if she does resent your sleeping on her grounds. The bear, with his inquisitive snout, may come snuffing for your provisions, but he will not attack you unless you are going to attack him. It should be understood that wild animals have an uncanny power of sensing your state ofmind and your intentions. They know if you are scared, and they know if you are going to jump up and strike at them. They know also if you have no fear, and if you are friendly. If you are calm and easy-going you can often make up to a bear and feed him. I imagine that was the secret of those early Christians who were famous for their friendship with the fiercest of animals.
More dangerous, however, are reptiles, and one should avoid lying down in a basket of snakes. In a snake-swarming country it is as well to avoid caves, especially those with many ledges. Dry ditches also, though sometimes attractive hollows for the spreading out of bedding, are often the home of snakes. You have observed them there by day. They remain at night. As regards the open, it is easy to beat out the brush so as to make sure that no rattler is going to be disturbed later on. Sleeping against walls has also its dangers, not only from snakes but from scorpions. The scorpion is a loathsome creature; even seeing one is rather a shock, and the bite is reputed to be specially poisonous. In tarantula country asleeping bag or a hammock is preferable to a bed spread on the ground. But when all hazards have been considered, a bed out of doors is safer than a bed in a house. The roof will not fall in; there is no danger of fire.
Experience, however, tells when it comes to choosing a resting place and making it comfortable. It is not a happy thing to plump down at the end of the day at random upon feeling tired. You cannot sleep pleasantly on a heap of stones, or in a marsh, or on a canting surface. You need to think of the chances of rain, or of mosquitoes, or creeping damp.
The commonest mistake is that of leaving the choice of a resting place till too late. It is sometimes fantastically difficult to make oneself comfortable if one starts about it after nightfall, or in the late twilight. You need time. Any time after five o’clock in the afternoon, should you come upon an ideal spot for spending the night, it is better to give up tramping for the day there and then and take over your billet.
If it is raining you need the shelter of heavilyfoliaged trees, or of a cave, or of an overhanging rock, or of a bridge over a river, or of a barn. If it is at all likely to rain you need to have such refuges near you, so that you can decamp readily and easily, and without mislaying half your kit. Of all these, the overhanging rock is the most pleasant, and like it, the large slanting tree trunk, or some protruding bank of earth and turf.
Rain is not such a calamity in the tramp’s night as might appear, though a long spell of rainy weather may be depressing. Even if one gets a little wet at night it is not too unpleasant. I have known pleasure in a soaking night out of doors. One reckons, however, upon sunshine next morning and the chance of drying off before ten o’clock.
Much discomfort is caused by stones at night.
“Stones Thy pillow, earth Thy bed,” says the Lenten hymn, but earth thy pillow, stones thy bed, is more in the natural order. The tired body finds the stones but the hand does not. It is well to make a good clearance of stones from the natural hollow you havechosen. A goodly stone may help at the head, but the best pillow is generally one’s pack, or one’s boots with a softer covering.
If possible, it is better not to settle down to sleep on sloping ground—for you slide all night and may slide into a much worse position than that originally chosen. In the mountains, where there is little level ground, it is better to seek a hole or a hollow or a natural shelf or recess. If you have to sleep on the edge of a precipice, it is as well to choose a place which has the chance barricade of a tree or a bush or a rock. Tramps are much afraid of rolling; but if proper precautions are taken one can sleep even where the eagle builds.
In the valleys, it is well to avoid sleeping too low. Inviting dells are often covered with but a thin carpet of sun-dried earth under which is bog. Marsh damp creeps upward in the early hours of the morning, and you wake in an unpleasant fog. Insects and reptiles abound in such places, and a bad night with them may spoil a good day.
There are so many ideal spots for sleeping the night, and they are so diverse that it wouldbe folly to catalogue or to enumerate. You see them as you go along. You get into the habit of spotting them. Even in the morning you remark as you go along: “Ah, a good place for spending a night!” It is a little like choosing villas in a locality generally agreeable. One has this point, the other has this special convenience.
The view counts for a good deal. Night is a visit to the opera. You want to see all the stars; you want a good stall. The views of the landscape, of the trees, of the sky—these are charms of residence.
You suit yourself regarding shelter from the wind or exposure to the wind, southern aspect, and all that. Some like to lie in the wind, others in the calm. As regards aspect, it is not where the sun shines at noon that interests you, but from what gap it dawns. Moon aspect also is not an inconsiderable matter.
As regards mere comfort, much may be done if there is time. You can make yourself a mattress of wild flowers, and wallow like a tramp in clover. You can pile up dried weedsunder you. You can improve on your pillow, smooth down your lonely pillow, in fact. You can ingeniously use various contents of your knapsack to give more warmth or softness. Those who feel the cold can put in hot rocks.
The hot rock is a cowboy device. You take some fair-sized stones, heat them in your camp fire, then wrap them up in whatever comes handy and place at the foot of the bed—this gives a sort of hot-water bottle. When tramping in high mountains you almost inevitably approach the snow line at times, and it is cold even in July. The hot rocks come in useful. Personally, I do not feel cold much, but I have tried hot rocks and have been surprised to realize that they retain their warmth even till morning. Their chief drawback is the scorch they may give you if by chance you undo the wrapping and put your leg on a naked stone. Some walkers get so enamored of hot rocks that they will sleep hugging a big one to their bosom.
Of course, one soon discovers that a night in the shelter of a great rock is warmer than a night in the unprotected open, and a night ina cave warmer even than that. Caves facing westward over the sea keep the sun low in them all night; caves on the western sides of mountains do the same. But this does not apply to profound caves which may be very cool. A night in a cave is an adventure, but it is likely to be less pleasant than a night outside. The floor of a cave is uncommonly hard, and a ridge in the floor may wear you out if you try to sleep across it. The pleasant part of a cave for sleeping is the mouth of it. It is just as well, by the way, to make sure that the cave is uninhabited before establishing yourself for the night.
In more civilized parts I have spent very pleasant nights under bridges. I cannot recommend railway bridges, as the trains shake down dirt, but river and road bridges have frequently very sweet natural homes for wanderers, close in where the first timbers meet the ground. One should, however, arrive in time to choose a place which has not been used before you by some domestic animal, since you may find insects in such places.
In certain countries the hammock is an idealconvenience for sleeping, but it needs getting used to, and there are some people who always fall out of them in the night. In the jungles of the tropics or of subtropical countries, it is the accepted mode. You need enough mosquito netting to swathe your body three times and, wrapped in that, you swing in your boat of rope.