June 27, 2007

Camping: Part II

Last week, I recounted my first camping experience, in which I tried to impress the man who would become my Starter Husband with my "game for anything" attitude. It turned out I was not game for sleeping on rocks in 17 degree weather without any toilet paper.

Nonetheless, when we had children I agreed that we should give it another try so that they could experience the joys of camping. When the boys were 3 and 6, we planned a weekend trip.

We packed the car with the gear we had picked up at Sears, the store that will give any young couple, no matter how iffy their financial history, a credit card so that they may charge thousands of dollars worth of Kenmore appliances to furnish their first home, not that I'm not grateful.

At any rate, we had the tent, the sleeping bags, the air mattresses, the stove, the lantern, the aluminum pots and pans, and lots of toilet paper. (I wasn't going to relive THAT nightmare.)

The boys were giddy with excitement. Heretofore, sleeping in the back of the station wagon at the drive-in movie was how we defined "camping."

We drove south on Indiana Route 67 to the hills, and late in the afternoon we found the perfect spot.

The boys ran around the camp site while we set up the tent and built a fire. I made them eat carrot sticks with their hot dogs and scorched marshmallows. We tucked them into their sleeping bags and sat down to enjoy the fire and a little conversation that didn't include the words, "Mom! He's (insert one of the following) kicking me, spitting on me, hitting me, taking my marshmallow, making faces at me!"

We had just started a discussion on the major themes in the writings of Hermann Hesse when it started to rain. Big fat raindrops plopped on the fire and sizzled. Soon we heard thunder and a sheet of rain followed.

Retreating into the tent, we found that the boys hadn't been awakened by the thunder and lightning.

Starter and I inspected the tent for waterproofness. I found out too late that you're not supposed to touch the roof when it's raining because that starts the leak. We put a pot under the stream, bundled up and tried to sleep. It wasn't to be. The lightning was close now and we could hear the deafening crack of tree limbs breaking and falling to the forest floor. Worse, the gentle creek we had camped by was now sounding like Niagara Falls.

At about 2 a.m. a park ranger came by and said through a loudspeaker, "Your attention, please. We are recommending that park visitors break camp and evacuate the area. Please drive slowly and stay off the shoulder."

We looked at each other. We looked at the boys, both snoring like a buzzsaw. Did we want to wake them up and take them out in the rain? Could we manage to get the tent down in this wind? How much longer would it rain?

I don't remember why we decided to stay. The night dragged by as we listened to Nature's outburst just outside the thin canvas of our leaky tent. It died down just before dawn and by the time it was light, it had stopped raining. We woke the boys, who had slept through the whole thing, and went outside to survey the damage. All around us were fallen tree limbs. The creek had not topped its banks, thank goodness, but it was still running swiftly. Everything we had left outside was a muddy, sodden mess.

The quiet was eerie. The other campers were gone. They had either been swept away by the water or vaporized by a direct lightning hit, or they had packed up their minivans and skedaddled. We were alone.

While the boys ate granola bars in the car, we packed up our muddy gear and headed home.

That was it for me. The next "camping" trip was a night in the tent in our backyard. I think the boys had a good time-at least it looked that way from the kitchen window.