Thursday, September 02, 2004
Camping (and why I don't do it!)
Labor Day weekend means camping to my family in Montana. My 76 year old mother still loves to drag out her tent and go camping with my brother and his kids. I am really proud that my Mom still goes camping; my brother and she are disappointed I don't.
Frankly, I have camped enough in my lifetime for several lifetimes. As a child, our family vacations took us to the wilds of Idaho and Montana where my Dad would set up an old sheepherders tent in some campground near good fishing. A smaller tent, called a pup tent, was put up for my brother and me and we'd live like this for two weeks at a time. The tents were always always as far away from the outhouses as was possible. And you know, I could never go in those stinky things without looking down the hole. One particular summer, counting Girl Scout camp, I had spent 6 weeks in the woods---six weeks looking down the holes in outhouses and sitting around campfires. Actually, campfire smoke always choked me-- but my Dad would always say, "Smoke follows beauty!"
My earliest memory is being stuffed into a stiff old army sleeping bag with an old army blanket; I couldn't move; I couldn't breathe; and even in August I'd freeze to death. One time near Georgetown Lake in Montana, the little tent was perched on a slope. In the morning, when I opened my eyes I could hear water and see blue sky---I had completely slid out of the tent in the night and nearly landed in the lake, "Mommy!!" Another morning in Idaho, I awoke to see thousands of helgramites (winged ant-like creatures) hatched inside the tent directly above my head, "MOOOOOMMMMMM!!" And at about age 12, when I could no longer stand to go 6 weeks without a shower, I remember bathing and washing my hair in an icy cold creek. This was when Herbal Essences shampoo first came out and the minute I sudsed up, I was attacked by every bee-like creature that existed in the state of Idaho, "MOM!! Mom! Mom!" She grabbed a towel and started swatting. Of course, my Dad and my brother were never around for these events because they were always off fishing. Upon their return, "What's little Janet's problem now?"
In an attempt to enourage me to camp with my children, my brother invited us one summer to his campground near Sheridan, Montana. My brother, a teacher, works for the Forest Service in the summers and is responsible for protecting stupid campers from themselves and the bears from the campers. He knows everything there is to know about camping. In an effort to make our experience comfortable and pleasurable, he set up his pop-up trailer tent for the four of us; it actually has two cushy double beds. His big truck was parked directly next to the tent in case we needed anything. He repaired and freshly painted the latrine that had been eaten by a porcupine. It even smelled ok. Netting over the picnic table kept the yellow jackets away. My brother and his wife fixed us a fabulous dinner before they returned to their cozy home in town. And we had a campfire. "Smoke follows beauty!" I told my coughing daughter.
At bedtime, we entered our cute little trailor tent and tucked the children on their side. I changed into sweats. Dave slept in his underwear and we left our jeans near our bed. The darkness in the woods is total unlike in a huge city like Seattle. Isn't this fun? AAAHH! This is the life; camping is not so bad--we are warm and happy. We drift off to sleep...........
HOOOOONNNNNNNKKKKKK! Honk! Honk! Honk! At two AM, HONK HONK, we are awakened by a deafening loud frightening alarm. I thought the forest was on fire and that a new alarm system had been set up as a warning to campers. HONK HONK, "We've got to run for our lives and get out of here," I yell. Dave grabs a pair of jeans HONK HONK HONK and tries desperately to pull them on. He can't get them past his knees and he trips. HONK HONK HONK expletive expletive. "Where's the damn flashlight??!!" HONK HONK HONK "These aren't my jeans; they are yours; where are mine?" HONK HONK HONK
"What's happening? MOMMY!" screams one of the children. HONK HONK HONK Off the floor and with his own pants barely on, Dave runs outside to discover my brother's truck horn was blaring just inches from our heads. He managed to disconnect a wire and finally, PEACE and quiet. Evidently, the extreme drop in temperature that happens at 8,000 feet caused a short in the wiring. Needless, to say, I couldn't go back to sleep for fear it would happen again and the image of Dave trying to yank on my jeans.....!
The next morning my brother arrived to check on us. "What's little Janet's problem now??" He's my big brother so of course I thought he'd planned the whole thing. "Well, I had been having a little problem with my truck horn but honest, I swear..."
Camping, yep, that was the last time.
Labor Day weekend means camping to my family in Montana. My 76 year old mother still loves to drag out her tent and go camping with my brother and his kids. I am really proud that my Mom still goes camping; my brother and she are disappointed I don't.
Frankly, I have camped enough in my lifetime for several lifetimes. As a child, our family vacations took us to the wilds of Idaho and Montana where my Dad would set up an old sheepherders tent in some campground near good fishing. A smaller tent, called a pup tent, was put up for my brother and me and we'd live like this for two weeks at a time. The tents were always always as far away from the outhouses as was possible. And you know, I could never go in those stinky things without looking down the hole. One particular summer, counting Girl Scout camp, I had spent 6 weeks in the woods---six weeks looking down the holes in outhouses and sitting around campfires. Actually, campfire smoke always choked me-- but my Dad would always say, "Smoke follows beauty!"
My earliest memory is being stuffed into a stiff old army sleeping bag with an old army blanket; I couldn't move; I couldn't breathe; and even in August I'd freeze to death. One time near Georgetown Lake in Montana, the little tent was perched on a slope. In the morning, when I opened my eyes I could hear water and see blue sky---I had completely slid out of the tent in the night and nearly landed in the lake, "Mommy!!" Another morning in Idaho, I awoke to see thousands of helgramites (winged ant-like creatures) hatched inside the tent directly above my head, "MOOOOOMMMMMM!!" And at about age 12, when I could no longer stand to go 6 weeks without a shower, I remember bathing and washing my hair in an icy cold creek. This was when Herbal Essences shampoo first came out and the minute I sudsed up, I was attacked by every bee-like creature that existed in the state of Idaho, "MOM!! Mom! Mom!" She grabbed a towel and started swatting. Of course, my Dad and my brother were never around for these events because they were always off fishing. Upon their return, "What's little Janet's problem now?"
In an attempt to enourage me to camp with my children, my brother invited us one summer to his campground near Sheridan, Montana. My brother, a teacher, works for the Forest Service in the summers and is responsible for protecting stupid campers from themselves and the bears from the campers. He knows everything there is to know about camping. In an effort to make our experience comfortable and pleasurable, he set up his pop-up trailer tent for the four of us; it actually has two cushy double beds. His big truck was parked directly next to the tent in case we needed anything. He repaired and freshly painted the latrine that had been eaten by a porcupine. It even smelled ok. Netting over the picnic table kept the yellow jackets away. My brother and his wife fixed us a fabulous dinner before they returned to their cozy home in town. And we had a campfire. "Smoke follows beauty!" I told my coughing daughter.
At bedtime, we entered our cute little trailor tent and tucked the children on their side. I changed into sweats. Dave slept in his underwear and we left our jeans near our bed. The darkness in the woods is total unlike in a huge city like Seattle. Isn't this fun? AAAHH! This is the life; camping is not so bad--we are warm and happy. We drift off to sleep...........
HOOOOONNNNNNNKKKKKK! Honk! Honk! Honk! At two AM, HONK HONK, we are awakened by a deafening loud frightening alarm. I thought the forest was on fire and that a new alarm system had been set up as a warning to campers. HONK HONK, "We've got to run for our lives and get out of here," I yell. Dave grabs a pair of jeans HONK HONK HONK and tries desperately to pull them on. He can't get them past his knees and he trips. HONK HONK HONK expletive expletive. "Where's the damn flashlight??!!" HONK HONK HONK "These aren't my jeans; they are yours; where are mine?" HONK HONK HONK
"What's happening? MOMMY!" screams one of the children. HONK HONK HONK Off the floor and with his own pants barely on, Dave runs outside to discover my brother's truck horn was blaring just inches from our heads. He managed to disconnect a wire and finally, PEACE and quiet. Evidently, the extreme drop in temperature that happens at 8,000 feet caused a short in the wiring. Needless, to say, I couldn't go back to sleep for fear it would happen again and the image of Dave trying to yank on my jeans.....!
The next morning my brother arrived to check on us. "What's little Janet's problem now??" He's my big brother so of course I thought he'd planned the whole thing. "Well, I had been having a little problem with my truck horn but honest, I swear..."
Camping, yep, that was the last time.
// posted by Janet @ 8:32 AM
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