Cleaning the basement I found this stack of photos I took while on a camping trip to the Great Smokey Mountains with my friend Russ. I was fiddling with the dates and now I think it might have been closer to 1987. It was in March and after driving for 6 hours we arrived well after dark to pitch our tent in a spring snow storm.
Russ was one of my friends whose generosity with me helped me to survive a transition in my life that has consumed too many others.
After establishing our camp in the midst of the cold, wet spring storm, we climbed into the tent. First task inside, we shed our wet apparel, before we entered a single sleeping bag. With skin tingly cold, we embraced one another and fell asleep in the warmth of our entwined bodies. I never discovered exactly what that platonic phileo-intimate night meant to him.
The next morning we awoke without consideration to such details. The following nights we slept in separate sleeping bags after days of strenuous hiking and shared experiences in this wonderful park.
What an amazing moment to rediscover.
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