Camp coffee

The explosion wakes me from a mostly sleepless night
Outside the frost covered hood of my sleeping bag, a raging fire burns
My companions are huddled too close to the flames, one clutching a can of Coleman fuel
It’s too cold to stay in the bag
Out into the biting cold to rummage around for the coffee pot
The excesses of the previous night are evident
A tin coffee cup is frozen to the table; a solid whiskey and coke ice cube in the bottom
Stumble to the water, bust the ice, dunk the percolator
Coffee boils over a gasoline fueled fire of wet, frozen wood
Early morning fix
Warms the body, defrosts the brain

2 thoughts on “Camp coffee”

  1. Oh, yeah! And the “taste” of the fresh air blending in with the smell of the fire snapping & crackling nearby! Nothing quite like it! Nice post, Greg. ~JimK

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