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In the month since our wedding, my work schedule has not coincided at all with my wife’s workschedule. We’ve been working opposite 12-hour nights resulting with very little time off together. Finally, a nice stretch of 7 days off was in the books and we were sure to make the most of it. Sunday, we planned on a two night camping trip to Mt St Helens with just the two of us.
Leah, one of my closest friends since the 4th grade, was also having a 30th birthday/farewell party on Sunday in West Seattle. After 6 years of living in Seattle, she’s getting ready to pack up and head back to Chicago for the next chapter of her life. It was both an emotional and hectic day between Leah’s party, packing for the camping trip, and 3 hours of driving ahead of us.
After a couple of hours on the beach complete with hugs and tears, we finally hit the road around 4:45 pm with a goal to find a campsite before nightfall. The drive was long and beautiful and we finally made it to the town of Cougar, Wa where we stopped to buy firewood and fill up with gas.
The roads past Cougar are forest service roads that are full of turns, scenic lookouts, big elevation gains, and cliffs. It was getting darker as every moment passed. Here on this road, we had to make a decision of which campground to seek out. Our original plan was safer but further away. Abbie read about a campground that was closer, harder to find, but potentially more rewarding. After debate, we turned around and backtracked to go with the high risk but high reward campground.
Deeper into the woods and higher up the mountain we went. Roads turned from paved to gravel, much like the surface of the moon with plenty of craters and potholes. We grew more anxious about finding the site and it was twilight lighting at best. Along with being somewhat freaked out about our situation, I was getting very hungry, and I couldn’t wait to grill my steak that was waiting for me in the cooler.
In the shadow of Mt St Helens, along forest road 8122 and the Toutle River, we finally found our campsite. Big, spacious, surrounded by forests with the sounds of the nearby river, it was worth the risk.
We happily set up camp. Abbie built the tent and set up our sleeping bags while I built a fire. I then pulled out our cooler and cooking supplies. Like my parents dining room table, our steaks were beautifully marbled. Veins of fat stretched throughout the bright red meat. I seasoned with salt and pepper and gave it a little time while I cut some potatoes and onions. The moment of campfire grilling, eating and relaxing is almost here.
I then went through every inch of our Honda CRV to learn that we left the charcoal at home. I looked and looked again in denial that I would forget something as important as charcoal.“WE FUCKING FORGOT THE CHARCOAL!” I furiously howled under the full moon.
But where there’s fire, there’s food. If a caveman can figure it out, then me and my Bachelor of Science in Nursing degree can make a steak using the tools I had over a wood fire. Managing heat was the first element needed. The wood fire burning was rather young with only a small handful of glowing embers to develop. Embers would be needed to find that perfect amount of heat that will achieve a seared surface and medium rare middle. The flames from the bonfire were clearly too hot to make a steak.
Next was the cooking surface. Do I use a cast iron skillet over the fire, or do I use rocks to prop up the grill grating next to the fire and use embers as a heat source? I found that the cast iron skillet rests comfortably on the roof of the log house fire. I poured some oil on the skillet and threw in some sliced potatoes. It didn’t take long for the potatoes to completely char. A moment later, all the oil in the cast iron went up in a tower of flames lighting up the entire campground. Meanwhile, steaks for dinner seemed more and more unattainable.
I then carefully placed the cast iron on the makeshift grill that was propped up with 3 rocks next to the fire. The grill wobbled and clearly was unstable for placing anything on it, let alone a priceless piece of rib eye steak. I tried moving the rocks to stabilize the grill, only to burn my fingertip in the process. In hopes to accelerate the formation of embers, the fire was dying, and we only had so much wood left to last through the night.
With my scorched fingers, dying fire, empty stomach and exhausted body, my inner St Helens blew its top. I kicked the cast iron with charred potatoes across the campground, slammed some wood on the ground, stormed around the campground cussing every profanity that I knew as I threw my fleece. I grabbed the bottle of recently opened wine and poured a large amount in my cup and fell into our camping chair next to my concerned wife. “Liquid lunch tonight” I gasped as I took a swig from my cup of wine.
Abbie wisely walked away. I sat there alone with myself as I thought about my behavior and how unacceptable it is. Camping in the middle of nowhere is supposed to be relaxing and a place of solace away from all the bullshit of work and everyday life. It’s not somewhere to explode in a rant of anger and frustration. I then sat in a pool of regret and personal insecurity. How could anyone love a man who acts like this? How did anyone marry a guy who acts like a 4 year old and kicks a cast iron skillet across a campground?
At that point, Abbie emerged from the woods. “I’m sorry” I sincerely apologized.
“I admire your perseverance, but you’re 30 years old!” Abbie lectured. We sat by the fire talking about our future and how it will not include angry behavior such as the one displayed just moments ago.
Meanwhile, we were still hungry. Glowing embers have developed during the past several minutes and I was able to shovel some under the now stabilized grill grating. The heat under the grating was equivalent to a medium high heat on a grill. It’s ready. I threw the steak on with the satisfying sizzling sound. We’re eating steaks tonight.
Several minutes went by and I checked our steak, only to find that there was barely any sear on the surface of the meat. “Why don’t you use both the cast iron skillet and finish on the grill?” Abbie suggested. Genius idea.
I propped the skillet back on the roof of the fire with a little oil. It didn’t take long for it to be hot. I threw my steak on the smoking skillet for just a few seconds and flipped it. Shining my headlamp on the steak, I found it perfectly seared. I finished searing the other side and threw it back on the grill to finish. Moments later, we were biting into a tender and juicy medium rare steak with flavors that only a wooden fire and a complete emotional breakdown can provide.
Friday, August 19, 2011 at 8:28AM
