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Sharing a Campfire with Jack London

It doesn't seem like such a great thing to get out of bed at 3:30, but oddly, it was. I had been listening/sleeping to an audiobook of Jack London's "White Fang," narrated with great skill by Seth Thompson. His voice and London's story had lulled me into a state of unusual satisfaction.

It was like sharing a campfire with friends, when the inane chatter of the early evening has worn down to the subdued voices of a later fire; quiet, dignified voices that imitate the steady breathing of a bed of orange coals. Here was a satisfaction that could never come from the written word. 

Maybe it was anticipation of my upcoming trip that made me get up at 3:30. There is only one more day of waiting! It has always been like this, before a trip. Usually this mood hits at the end of summer, while anticipating a new autumn. But this time, I anticipated going north for the first time in years, thanks to a new tow vehicle.

It won't exactly be a new experience to me. But there will be disappointments and mistakes. I have not "planned" this trip to the north, of course. "Planning"  defeats the whole purpose of travel. Planning is just another name for "consuming" a tourist experience. 

Normally I don't care for being awake during non-daylight. But now it felt good. Outside the little window of my trailer was a full moon. I listened for the haunting sounds of a coyote.