OOOOH! INDIAN PIPE!

I’m a van camper. Mine is not one of those elaborate camper vans with a lot of built-ins. It has a lot of throw-ins. But my dogs and I have had all manner of fun on one- and two-nighter camping trips, mostly to the mountains or the coast.

On one trip to the mountains, the weather was hot. Sultry. Downright suffocating, even in the shade. Behind my campsite was dense bush and tall trees. Surely it would be cooler back in there. I just hoped all the animal residents were snoozing through the heat of the day.

Taking my dachshund on her leash, I stepped gently into the shadows. Yes, the further we went into the dark shade, the cooler it felt. A moist, earthy smell surrounded us. It was as if we had traveled miles north, to a cooler, earlier time. Grass did not grow here. Limbs and small trees had been felled by lack of light. Clear brown earth stretched across under the darkening shade. And back where the shadow was nearly black, back against the thickest undergrowth, tiny white flowers hung majestically on white stems jutting up about six inches from the dark earth, winking against the darkness, yielding to the moving shadows.

Indian Pipe! Ooooh! Indian Pipe!

Without the blast-furnace of deep-summer heat, I would never have intruded so far off the beaten path and found those little chalk-white flowers. I wasn’t happy with that uncomfortable heat, but I was more than happy with my find.

The next day, as I left the campground, I asked the manager why she hadn’t put up a little sign at the campsite, pointing back into the shade, so more people could see the lovely little flowers. She knew her wilderness flora, that if everybody went back into the deep shade, pretty soon the undergrowth would pull back away from our foot traffic, and then the flowers would be gone. “Besides,” she added, “there’s something special about discovery.”

Wise lady. Right. There’s always something special about discovery.