Real Camping
Originally Posted @ 8/8/2005 12:17 PM
The time for practice was over; the day we’d all been waiting for was finally here. It was time to go camping! After rolling out of bed at 9:30 to make sure we got an early start on the day, we loaded up the car with the various camping necessities: tent, sleeping bag, marshmallows, a bottle of Chardonnay, and half a leftover pizza wrapped in foil. Time to hit the dusty trail, but not before a quick stop for lunch and a detour to the ATM. Had to have some cash to buy firewood. This was after all, real camping, and I’m sure there’s no credit cards accepted in such an endeavor.
We arrived at the campground around 2:30, located an appropriate site, and setup camp without incident. Time to go for a swim in the “chlorinated lake.” I know it was chlorinated because the sign said so although, the presence of seaweed and the fact that the water was green made me suspicious of that claim. In any case there was swimming to be done and swim we did. Well actually, my daughter did. Sue and I were content to watch from the shore. At one point, Emma pointed to a man playing with his son in the water and yelled to us “He’s a stranger and I’m not going to talk to him!” I’m sure the man was relieved.
Back to camp to dry off. As thoughts turned to the sleeping arrangements, we realized that primitive camping included no electricity. It was going to be tough to inflate the air mattresses with the electric pump. As the male of the group I felt it was my duty to provide so, I decided I would simply blow them up using old fashioned lung power. After 15 minutes of exhaling, I sat, head spinning, looking at a still flat air mattress. That’s when Sue made the executive decision to call the front office and ask about electricity. Yes, cell phones are part of real camping. Now, I’m not sure what the particulars of the phone conversation were but the end result was us plugging into an electrical hookup by a nearby RV. For some reason, I still felt like we were doing something wrong as I nervously waited for the air mattresses to inflate, constantly looking over my shoulder.
Time for that camping staple, the camp fire. First, Daddy and daughter needed to take a short hike to find some marshmallow appropriate sticks. Spying another dad walking out of the woods with his own collection of marshmallow sticks, Emma exclaimed “Hey, great stick you’ve got there!” “Thanks, they’re marshmallow sticks” he replied with a smile. It only strengthened our resolve to find the greatest marshmallow sticks ever. After about 30 minutes of hunting, we returned to camp with six of the most magnificent marshmallow sticks ever seen. The three of us would have plenty of choices in the marshmallow stick department.
After a quick dinner of cold pizza, cheese sticks, and a slice of bread, it was time for marshmallows. Seeing my wife and daughter roasting marshmallows together is one of those memories that will stay with me as long as I live. For a few minutes, they ceased to be mother and daughter and were simply two smiling, giggling little girls stuffing their mouths full of hot marshmallows and enjoying the moment so thoroughly that nothing else mattered. Not wanting to be left out, I grabbed a stick, roasted a marshmallow, and quickly ate it. This action reaffirmed what I already knew: I hate marshmallows. It didn’t matter.
After an evening of sitting in front of the camp fire and burning everything we could get our hands on, a skill I perfected in the Boy Scouts, it was time for bed. But, not before a final long walk to go potty and a trip to get some water to make sure the fire was really out. It was time to settle into the sleeping bags and get a good night sleep. After various rearrangements of the sleeping assignments, adjustments to the sleeping bag (see Practice Camping) and some discussion of the day, Emma was out cold. That’s when the party across the road began. I’m not exactly sure what they were doing but I’m pretty sure there was a jackhammer involved. Suffice it to say that Mom and Dad were not well rested in the morning. The minute Emma woke up we loaded up the car and got the heck out of there. Three stinky, tired people drove home in the crisp morning air. The trip was a success.
So what did we learn on our camping trip? Well, that we like pretty much everything about camping except for the actual camping part. If we could find a hotel that would let you start a fire in the parking lot, I think we’d be good with that. Introducing your children to new experiences is one of the great pleasures of parenthood. Seeing the smile on their face and the wonder in their eyes never gets old. Lying awake in a tent at 2:30 in the morning listening to a jackhammer however, gets old very quickly.
The time for practice was over; the day we’d all been waiting for was finally here. It was time to go camping! After rolling out of bed at 9:30 to make sure we got an early start on the day, we loaded up the car with the various camping necessities: tent, sleeping bag, marshmallows, a bottle of Chardonnay, and half a leftover pizza wrapped in foil. Time to hit the dusty trail, but not before a quick stop for lunch and a detour to the ATM. Had to have some cash to buy firewood. This was after all, real camping, and I’m sure there’s no credit cards accepted in such an endeavor.
We arrived at the campground around 2:30, located an appropriate site, and setup camp without incident. Time to go for a swim in the “chlorinated lake.” I know it was chlorinated because the sign said so although, the presence of seaweed and the fact that the water was green made me suspicious of that claim. In any case there was swimming to be done and swim we did. Well actually, my daughter did. Sue and I were content to watch from the shore. At one point, Emma pointed to a man playing with his son in the water and yelled to us “He’s a stranger and I’m not going to talk to him!” I’m sure the man was relieved.
Back to camp to dry off. As thoughts turned to the sleeping arrangements, we realized that primitive camping included no electricity. It was going to be tough to inflate the air mattresses with the electric pump. As the male of the group I felt it was my duty to provide so, I decided I would simply blow them up using old fashioned lung power. After 15 minutes of exhaling, I sat, head spinning, looking at a still flat air mattress. That’s when Sue made the executive decision to call the front office and ask about electricity. Yes, cell phones are part of real camping. Now, I’m not sure what the particulars of the phone conversation were but the end result was us plugging into an electrical hookup by a nearby RV. For some reason, I still felt like we were doing something wrong as I nervously waited for the air mattresses to inflate, constantly looking over my shoulder.
Time for that camping staple, the camp fire. First, Daddy and daughter needed to take a short hike to find some marshmallow appropriate sticks. Spying another dad walking out of the woods with his own collection of marshmallow sticks, Emma exclaimed “Hey, great stick you’ve got there!” “Thanks, they’re marshmallow sticks” he replied with a smile. It only strengthened our resolve to find the greatest marshmallow sticks ever. After about 30 minutes of hunting, we returned to camp with six of the most magnificent marshmallow sticks ever seen. The three of us would have plenty of choices in the marshmallow stick department.
After a quick dinner of cold pizza, cheese sticks, and a slice of bread, it was time for marshmallows. Seeing my wife and daughter roasting marshmallows together is one of those memories that will stay with me as long as I live. For a few minutes, they ceased to be mother and daughter and were simply two smiling, giggling little girls stuffing their mouths full of hot marshmallows and enjoying the moment so thoroughly that nothing else mattered. Not wanting to be left out, I grabbed a stick, roasted a marshmallow, and quickly ate it. This action reaffirmed what I already knew: I hate marshmallows. It didn’t matter.
After an evening of sitting in front of the camp fire and burning everything we could get our hands on, a skill I perfected in the Boy Scouts, it was time for bed. But, not before a final long walk to go potty and a trip to get some water to make sure the fire was really out. It was time to settle into the sleeping bags and get a good night sleep. After various rearrangements of the sleeping assignments, adjustments to the sleeping bag (see Practice Camping) and some discussion of the day, Emma was out cold. That’s when the party across the road began. I’m not exactly sure what they were doing but I’m pretty sure there was a jackhammer involved. Suffice it to say that Mom and Dad were not well rested in the morning. The minute Emma woke up we loaded up the car and got the heck out of there. Three stinky, tired people drove home in the crisp morning air. The trip was a success.
So what did we learn on our camping trip? Well, that we like pretty much everything about camping except for the actual camping part. If we could find a hotel that would let you start a fire in the parking lot, I think we’d be good with that. Introducing your children to new experiences is one of the great pleasures of parenthood. Seeing the smile on their face and the wonder in their eyes never gets old. Lying awake in a tent at 2:30 in the morning listening to a jackhammer however, gets old very quickly.
posted by Steve at
12:35 PM
1 Comments:
Sounds like you had a great time. But at my age I think I will stay in hotel's.
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Anonymous, at 9:38 AM
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