Photos: Cycle camping.

september 9th, 2013.

The paintball factory by the sketchy overpass on the Robert McClory bike path.

Paintball factory.

Waiting out a gnarly storm that threatened and black cloud bullied but never got to us.

Waiting out the storm. Bugging Vlad.

Camp dress at Illinois Beach State Park.

Wearing my camp dress.

Vlad said starting the fire stressed him out so I volunteered to do it. Was pretty sure my enthusiasm and basic teenage pyromania would carry the day, but our raw materials were a little damp and also it turns out I am Not Good at making fire and after a few minutes of my fizzled flailing Vlad took over. But I stuck around to help like for instance when I dropped some paper towel on a baby flame, smothering it.

Vlad: “What is the rule?”
Me: “Vlad is in charge of the fire.”
Vlad: “Vlad is in charge of the fire.”

Marcel's lungs were also a key ingredient.

El Drogo.


Smoked herring breakfast.

I was staring off into the distance and Colleen asked what I was thinking about.

“It's gross. So if you want me to tell you, just know: it's gross.” She didn't stop me, so I told her. “I was thinking about being a little kid and having some white bread and then rolling it up in your hand until it's a little ball black with dirt and oil. And then you eat the bread ball.”

This photo is either Colleen showing Marcel a burnt bean, or she made him a bread ball.

Marcel + Colleen

Pedaled through the Chicago Botanic Garden on the way back, where botanic tourism was in full effect.

Vlad: “I know this place is supposed to be about plants, but it really triggers my misanthropy.”

Chicago Botanic Gardens.