I don’t think anyone would necessarily label me a camper. And certainly not a hiker. But camp and hike I did, and for my birthday no less. And I cried. And my knees collapsed.

Though, for every tear shed, there were 100 bursts of laughter and moments of joy with friends, old and new. I met Lucy here in New York City the night I moved. She is so full of life and love, and so incredibly passionate about social issues, not to mention brilliant (she was working on her PhD in physics when we met). After she moved back to Birmingham, England, I felt a deep loss. So two weeks before my birthday last year, I bought a plane ticket and met Lucy and her friends for a weekend in England’s Lake District. Camping. And hiking.

We gathered and left from her adorable little house in southern Birmingham. We arrived a few hours later to the Swallow Barn. It was rustic, and I mean rustic. At one point in the night, I thought I might freeze to death.  But I turned out to like rustic. We made all our own food outside in the morning and inside the “kitchen” at night. We huddled around the space heater in the common room and drank beer and ate pasta. We went down the road to the Fish Inn in Buttermere. It was so cozy and nostalgic, I can still remember cramming around a table in the classically english countryside, low-lit dining room.

The whole weekend was like living in a Ralph Lauren ad without looking half as good as the models do.

I knew I wanted to document this story, but I didn’t want to carry much. I was still playing a lot with my tilt shift so this story is photographed entirely with the Nikon 45mm perspective control lens (though in my future trips around the world I plan to carry at least two lenses).

I look back on these photos with mostly fond memories and I even made it into a couple! : )