Camp in a California wilderness 我女儿一手夺过我手中的相机，原来她想抓住眼前的这一片多姿多彩。跳望着这 片景色，看到女儿不停地抓取自然的浩瀚之图，顿时觉得我之前的唠唠叨叨，实 在是傻得冒烟。 是的，野营就是遭罪。是的，拿着信用卡，预定豪华大饭店，让孩子看着大电视， 完了吃顿大餐，品杯美酒，多么惬意快活。可是，有谁能够体会到接近原始大自 然时的无限美妙？不要忘记，请让孩子少一点沉溺现代科技的日益享受，多一点 现实世界的接触吧。 Seeing my daughter grasp the scale and beauty of nature made the pre-dawn chill, sore back and broken sleep all worthwhile. By Sasha Abramsky "It was like lying in a great solemn cathedral,far vaster and more beautiful than any built by the hand of man,"wrote Teddy Roosevelt,of camping in Yosemite Park. At about 4 am,after hours of being unable to sleep;of shivering in the cold mountain air-despite going to bed fully dressed and with a wool hat pulled down over my ears -and trying to silence my crying kids who kept waking up and whimpering in the chill;of futilely attempting to find a position on the air mattress that didn't send my lower back into spasms;of listening to sounds that might or might not have been a bear sniffing around outside our tent,I finally couldn't stand it any more. I simply had to pee.Gritting my teeth,I turned on a flashlight,put on my shoes, unzipped the door of my tent,stumbled out into the night,and made a dash for the pit-toilet at the edge of the camp site. There was no bear.But there were an impossibly large number of stars twinkling above I peed,ran back to my tent,and half-slept till dawn. Hours later,as the sun crept up over the edge of the awesome Lassen peak-the jagged relic of a powerful volcanic explosion that strewed boulders over hundreds of square miles-in the remote northeast of California,I pulled my sleeping bag over my head and whined exhaustedly that "everything has gone wrong." Like so many other grouchy early morning,pre-coffee utterances I make,this one was ludicrously off-key.Things weren't wrong;they were right.Camp in a California wilderness 我女儿一手夺过我手中的相机，原来她想抓住眼前的这一片多姿多彩。眺望着这 片景色，看到女儿不停地抓取自然的浩瀚之图，顿时觉得我之前的唠唠叨叨，实 在是傻得冒烟。 是的，野营就是遭罪。是的，拿着信用卡，预定豪华大饭店，让孩子看着大电视， 完了吃顿大餐，品杯美酒，多么惬意快活。可是，有谁能够体会到接近原始大自 然时的无限美妙？不要忘记，请让孩子少一点沉溺现代科技的日益享受，多一点 现实世界的接触吧。 Seeing my daughter grasp the scale and beauty of nature made the pre-dawn chill, sore back and broken sleep all worthwhile. By Sasha Abramsky "It was like lying in a great solemn cathedral, far vaster and more beautiful than any built by the hand of man," wrote Teddy Roosevelt, of camping in Yosemite Park. At about 4 am, after hours of being unable to sleep; of shivering in the cold mountain air – despite going to bed fully dressed and with a wool hat pulled down over my ears – and trying to silence my crying kids who kept waking up and whimpering in the chill; of futilely attempting to find a position on the air mattress that didn't send my lower back into spasms; of listening to sounds that might or might not have been a bear sniffing around outside our tent, I finally couldn't stand it any more. I simply had to pee. Gritting my teeth, I turned on a flashlight, put on my shoes, unzipped the door of my tent, stumbled out into the night, and made a dash for the pit-toilet at the edge of the camp site. There was no bear. But there were an impossibly large number of stars twinkling above. I peed, ran back to my tent, and half-slept till dawn. Hours later, as the sun crept up over the edge of the awesome Lassen peak – the jagged relic of a powerful volcanic explosion that strewed boulders over hundreds of square miles – in the remote northeast of California, I pulled my sleeping bag over my head and whined exhaustedly that "everything has gone wrong." Like so many other grouchy early morning, pre-coffee utterances I make, this one was ludicrously off-key. Things weren't wrong; they were right