There’s something almost morbid about hauling two coolers full of food to a state park called “Starved Rock”—-so named because the Illini Indians were once trapped here by the Ottawa and starved to death. So the little placard claimed, though it was difficult to read the park’s history through the many “TOM + OLIVIA 4EVR” drawings all over the place.
I don’t claim to be an outdoorsy person by any means. The one camping trip I took before this was a hastily thrown-together affair with my beloved house, Shorey, in which we ate potentially spoiled hamburgers, shared a single keychain flashlight, and slept on towels (at least some people did!!?) in freezing weather.
However, this trip was so relaxing that I can’t wait to go again. Most of our time was spent walking around the park, looking at the many people and dogs who had piled in from nearby suburbs and cities for the weekend, and cooking delicious food over our campfire. I also managed to read Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove, an absorbing read especially when browsed in our own modern version of the wilderness.