A - Camping - We - Shall - Go
June 2005
A-Camping-We-Shall-Go
I don't think I've gone camping since I was eighteen or nineteen years old. I have, of course, sat around campfires choking on wood smoke and getting grungy between then and now, but have not actually stayed overnight in a tent for nearly twenty-five years. Now that Christopher and Victoria are in Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts they have been subjected to various sorts of propaganda espousing the benefits of living in the great outdoors. Recently both of them came to me and asked if we could all attend one of the numerous scouting camp-outs put on by their local packs. I thought this was a great idea, especially since living under nylon was something we could all enjoy together as a family. I brought up the idea to Maydee who seemed somehow reluctant to go and wandered off mumbling something about dirt, bears, mountain lions, mosquitoes and lack of hygienic facilities. Nevertheless, over the course of a few weeks I persevered and Maydee eventually caved in and agreed to go. By this time, unfortunately, all the summer camping slots for the Scouts and Brownies were filled and it looked like the children were to be disappointed. Upon hearing the bad news Maydee appeared much happier than she had been for a while and whistled tunefully to herself as she set off out the door to have her nails done at a local salon.
A short time later I took the children to REI Outfitters to look at new bicycles and discovered that REI was hosting a campout at Chatfield Reservoir. Tents could be rented along with any other camping supplies suburbanites like us might not have in our personal inventory of junk stacked rafter high in the garage. Having signed all of us up and loaded the back of the car with rented camping equipment, I returned home and announced the good news to Maydee that in a few short days we would be living in harmony with nature for the weekend. Maydee was less than enthusiastic and it suddenly appeared that nature was to provide the only harmony I was going to get for some time.
At any rate, Saturday June 11th 2005 was the big day and the kids were all excited, especially as Christopher had invited a friend of his named Justin to join in the fun. While I mowed the lawn before we were due to go, Maydee packed up stuff she thought would be useful on the trip. When I finished mowing I found piled inside the house sufficient supplies to keep us on safari for six weeks. There were at least six changes of clothes apiece (short pants, long pants, t shirts, shirts with long sleeves, socks, coats, mittens and hats) along with bathing trunks, towels, blankets, Tommy Hilfiger pillows, bug spray, sunscreen, three large bags of food, a large cooler full of drinks, books to read, books to colour in, books to draw in, boxes of crayons, pencils, paints and portable battery-powered DVD players with a wide selection of movies. While I stared aghast at the mountain of useless crap Justin pedalled up on his bicycle carrying one small backpack and a bag of Oreo cookies. Sensible child. Before I was finished loading our stuff I found we had to take both SUV's. Yes, that's right, two SUV's full of stuff for a one night camping trip at Chatfield Reservoir 8 miles from our front door.
Upon arrival we set up camp in a treeless plain under the guidance of the REI people whose main source of help and advice was to tell us the best views could be had if the door to the tent faced the nearby mountains. And here I was all along thinking it might be nice if the door faced the parking lot. Other than that we were given a mallet to pound the tent pegs into the dirt. Half an hour later we were done and off we went on our bicycles to Chatfield Marina where we watched the barely pubescent park police make a nuisance of themselves to anyone riding on or in any sort of water transport. While one poor victim stormed off to his vehicle to fetch some ownership documents for his Wave Runner (evidently the registration wasn't good enough) the cop tried to chat up his girlfriend perched on a second machine. "First time out?" asked the cop knowingly. "Yeah, whatever," came the reply. Around this time another cop in a boat loud hailed at top volume a third Wave Runner thirty feet away.
"What's the age of the driver on that machine?"
"I'm 37, pal, and I can hear you clearly without your friggin' amplifier. I'm not at the other side of the lake."
"The little girl sitting in front of you. How old is she?"
"She's 6 and she's not driving. I am. What's your problem?"
"The person sitting in front is deemed to be in care and control of the watercraft, sir. If the girl is 6 she can't be sitting there. She must sit behind you."
"And if she falls off? What then? This is ridiculous and so are you. She's sitting in front of me so I can watch her and make sure she doesn't fall off."
"I don't like the tone of your voice, sir, nor your insinuations. If you do not immediately move the girl to the rear of the machine, I will have no alternative but to take whatever steps I deem necessary in order to maintain a safe and enjoyable day for all those on the lake this afternoon, up to and including the confiscation of your watercraft."
The response was mostly unintelligible, but sounded like a wail of frustration from someone who wanted to commit murder but was unable to find the immediate means to do so. Instead the little girl moved to the rear of the Wave Runner and the pair zoomed off into the distance, no doubt to once again switch spots as soon they were out of sight of the fun patrol.
Maydee was less than impressed with the police and said so fairly loudly. This got a smile from the girl on the nearby Wave Runner, whose boyfriend returned brandishing a thick volume of papers showing ownership of probably everything from his house to his car as well as his watercraft. The cop glared at us and I decided it was best we depart before they ask for the ownership papers on the bicycles and the children.
We cycled back to camp to find clouds rolling in over the mountains. "Looks like rain," I said. "Lovely," replied Maydee. "This is why I hate camping." Not that she had ever camped before, but I decided it would be prudent to not to mention the fact. Looking at the tons of safari supplies heaped outside the tent, I told the kids to move some of it back into the car. Not all of it would fit inside the tent and much of it would be rendered even more useless than it already was if it were to be rained upon.
We were just finishing our third load each while Maydee hopped inside the tent to arrange what stuff we had in there when the sky opened up with unbelievable ferocity. One moment there was warmth and dryness. Two seconds later the temperature dropped 20 degrees and nature in all her harmony dumped a river of water onto us from a great height. We were running for the tent when an incredible wind sailed through. As there were no protective trees, we got the full effect. Victoria was blown off her feet, but recovered nicely by doing a somersault and headed for the door with the lovely mountain view. Christopher and Justin held onto one another and continued a staggered path in the same direction. I took up the rear and could not believe the intensity of the wind, which was now making the boys progress very difficult. As all of us reached the tent at roughly the same time, there was some hesitation as to who should enter first. This suddenly became a moot point.
What can be described only as a maelstrom from hell hit us. The tent took on all the properties of a four masted schooner without the schooner but all the sails. The pegs were ripped from the ground and the tent 360'd across the campsite much like a high-speed merry-go-round, anchored only to earth by Maydee's 98lb weight and what supplies were inside. I caught occasional glimpses of my wife inside during each rotation. Oddly enough my initial thought was that she didn’t appear to be enjoying the mountain views as they flashed by intermittently, despite the fact her eyes were as wide as dinner plates.
The wind died down sufficiently that all of us could now enter the tent and our additional weight prevented the tent from sailing off any further into the distance. We were soaked to the skin and suddenly the extra clothes Maydee had brought along seemed like prescient foresight. Not that we could get to them, loaded inside the vehicles as they were. And then the wind picked up again, more ferociously than before. Each of us sat splay-legged on the floor and leaned against the walls of the tent with our arms spread in a vain attempt to stop the fabric from blowing in on us. Victoria was frightened, especially as she does not like thunder and lightning and there was now plenty of that overhead. The rain beat down with such intensity that it stung our backs through the canvas protection and our soaked shirts. Maydee was still wide-eyed and only Christopher and Justin seemed to be enjoying themselves. For my part, I was hoping the storm would pass quickly as I suddenly remembered I had left the digital camera hanging from one of the bicycle handlebars outside.
Just as quickly as it had started, the rain stopped, the wind abated and the sun began to shine again. We climbed outside to see the aftermath and found a number of adjacent tents either blown away entirely or skeletal without their fabric coverings. A picnic table had overturned and many of our fellow campers were huddled inside their vehicles. I discovered my digital camera face down in the mud underneath my bicycle. The kids were now running around whooping with joy that we had survived, but their joy was short lived as Maydee finally emerged covered in ketchup and pieces of Oreo cookie, her hair askew and looking rather wild.
"Pack up!" she said. "We’re going home!" And with that she stomped off to her car and drove away. The rest of us took down the tent and otherwise loaded the remaining camping gear, bicycles and so on into my car and left ten minutes later. I guess I’ll have to wait another 25 years before I get to try camping again.
A-Camping-We-Shall-Go
I don't think I've gone camping since I was eighteen or nineteen years old. I have, of course, sat around campfires choking on wood smoke and getting grungy between then and now, but have not actually stayed overnight in a tent for nearly twenty-five years. Now that Christopher and Victoria are in Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts they have been subjected to various sorts of propaganda espousing the benefits of living in the great outdoors. Recently both of them came to me and asked if we could all attend one of the numerous scouting camp-outs put on by their local packs. I thought this was a great idea, especially since living under nylon was something we could all enjoy together as a family. I brought up the idea to Maydee who seemed somehow reluctant to go and wandered off mumbling something about dirt, bears, mountain lions, mosquitoes and lack of hygienic facilities. Nevertheless, over the course of a few weeks I persevered and Maydee eventually caved in and agreed to go. By this time, unfortunately, all the summer camping slots for the Scouts and Brownies were filled and it looked like the children were to be disappointed. Upon hearing the bad news Maydee appeared much happier than she had been for a while and whistled tunefully to herself as she set off out the door to have her nails done at a local salon.
A short time later I took the children to REI Outfitters to look at new bicycles and discovered that REI was hosting a campout at Chatfield Reservoir. Tents could be rented along with any other camping supplies suburbanites like us might not have in our personal inventory of junk stacked rafter high in the garage. Having signed all of us up and loaded the back of the car with rented camping equipment, I returned home and announced the good news to Maydee that in a few short days we would be living in harmony with nature for the weekend. Maydee was less than enthusiastic and it suddenly appeared that nature was to provide the only harmony I was going to get for some time.
At any rate, Saturday June 11th 2005 was the big day and the kids were all excited, especially as Christopher had invited a friend of his named Justin to join in the fun. While I mowed the lawn before we were due to go, Maydee packed up stuff she thought would be useful on the trip. When I finished mowing I found piled inside the house sufficient supplies to keep us on safari for six weeks. There were at least six changes of clothes apiece (short pants, long pants, t shirts, shirts with long sleeves, socks, coats, mittens and hats) along with bathing trunks, towels, blankets, Tommy Hilfiger pillows, bug spray, sunscreen, three large bags of food, a large cooler full of drinks, books to read, books to colour in, books to draw in, boxes of crayons, pencils, paints and portable battery-powered DVD players with a wide selection of movies. While I stared aghast at the mountain of useless crap Justin pedalled up on his bicycle carrying one small backpack and a bag of Oreo cookies. Sensible child. Before I was finished loading our stuff I found we had to take both SUV's. Yes, that's right, two SUV's full of stuff for a one night camping trip at Chatfield Reservoir 8 miles from our front door.
Upon arrival we set up camp in a treeless plain under the guidance of the REI people whose main source of help and advice was to tell us the best views could be had if the door to the tent faced the nearby mountains. And here I was all along thinking it might be nice if the door faced the parking lot. Other than that we were given a mallet to pound the tent pegs into the dirt. Half an hour later we were done and off we went on our bicycles to Chatfield Marina where we watched the barely pubescent park police make a nuisance of themselves to anyone riding on or in any sort of water transport. While one poor victim stormed off to his vehicle to fetch some ownership documents for his Wave Runner (evidently the registration wasn't good enough) the cop tried to chat up his girlfriend perched on a second machine. "First time out?" asked the cop knowingly. "Yeah, whatever," came the reply. Around this time another cop in a boat loud hailed at top volume a third Wave Runner thirty feet away.
"What's the age of the driver on that machine?"
"I'm 37, pal, and I can hear you clearly without your friggin' amplifier. I'm not at the other side of the lake."
"The little girl sitting in front of you. How old is she?"
"She's 6 and she's not driving. I am. What's your problem?"
"The person sitting in front is deemed to be in care and control of the watercraft, sir. If the girl is 6 she can't be sitting there. She must sit behind you."
"And if she falls off? What then? This is ridiculous and so are you. She's sitting in front of me so I can watch her and make sure she doesn't fall off."
"I don't like the tone of your voice, sir, nor your insinuations. If you do not immediately move the girl to the rear of the machine, I will have no alternative but to take whatever steps I deem necessary in order to maintain a safe and enjoyable day for all those on the lake this afternoon, up to and including the confiscation of your watercraft."
The response was mostly unintelligible, but sounded like a wail of frustration from someone who wanted to commit murder but was unable to find the immediate means to do so. Instead the little girl moved to the rear of the Wave Runner and the pair zoomed off into the distance, no doubt to once again switch spots as soon they were out of sight of the fun patrol.
Maydee was less than impressed with the police and said so fairly loudly. This got a smile from the girl on the nearby Wave Runner, whose boyfriend returned brandishing a thick volume of papers showing ownership of probably everything from his house to his car as well as his watercraft. The cop glared at us and I decided it was best we depart before they ask for the ownership papers on the bicycles and the children.
We cycled back to camp to find clouds rolling in over the mountains. "Looks like rain," I said. "Lovely," replied Maydee. "This is why I hate camping." Not that she had ever camped before, but I decided it would be prudent to not to mention the fact. Looking at the tons of safari supplies heaped outside the tent, I told the kids to move some of it back into the car. Not all of it would fit inside the tent and much of it would be rendered even more useless than it already was if it were to be rained upon.
We were just finishing our third load each while Maydee hopped inside the tent to arrange what stuff we had in there when the sky opened up with unbelievable ferocity. One moment there was warmth and dryness. Two seconds later the temperature dropped 20 degrees and nature in all her harmony dumped a river of water onto us from a great height. We were running for the tent when an incredible wind sailed through. As there were no protective trees, we got the full effect. Victoria was blown off her feet, but recovered nicely by doing a somersault and headed for the door with the lovely mountain view. Christopher and Justin held onto one another and continued a staggered path in the same direction. I took up the rear and could not believe the intensity of the wind, which was now making the boys progress very difficult. As all of us reached the tent at roughly the same time, there was some hesitation as to who should enter first. This suddenly became a moot point.
What can be described only as a maelstrom from hell hit us. The tent took on all the properties of a four masted schooner without the schooner but all the sails. The pegs were ripped from the ground and the tent 360'd across the campsite much like a high-speed merry-go-round, anchored only to earth by Maydee's 98lb weight and what supplies were inside. I caught occasional glimpses of my wife inside during each rotation. Oddly enough my initial thought was that she didn’t appear to be enjoying the mountain views as they flashed by intermittently, despite the fact her eyes were as wide as dinner plates.
The wind died down sufficiently that all of us could now enter the tent and our additional weight prevented the tent from sailing off any further into the distance. We were soaked to the skin and suddenly the extra clothes Maydee had brought along seemed like prescient foresight. Not that we could get to them, loaded inside the vehicles as they were. And then the wind picked up again, more ferociously than before. Each of us sat splay-legged on the floor and leaned against the walls of the tent with our arms spread in a vain attempt to stop the fabric from blowing in on us. Victoria was frightened, especially as she does not like thunder and lightning and there was now plenty of that overhead. The rain beat down with such intensity that it stung our backs through the canvas protection and our soaked shirts. Maydee was still wide-eyed and only Christopher and Justin seemed to be enjoying themselves. For my part, I was hoping the storm would pass quickly as I suddenly remembered I had left the digital camera hanging from one of the bicycle handlebars outside.
Just as quickly as it had started, the rain stopped, the wind abated and the sun began to shine again. We climbed outside to see the aftermath and found a number of adjacent tents either blown away entirely or skeletal without their fabric coverings. A picnic table had overturned and many of our fellow campers were huddled inside their vehicles. I discovered my digital camera face down in the mud underneath my bicycle. The kids were now running around whooping with joy that we had survived, but their joy was short lived as Maydee finally emerged covered in ketchup and pieces of Oreo cookie, her hair askew and looking rather wild.
"Pack up!" she said. "We’re going home!" And with that she stomped off to her car and drove away. The rest of us took down the tent and otherwise loaded the remaining camping gear, bicycles and so on into my car and left ten minutes later. I guess I’ll have to wait another 25 years before I get to try camping again.
posted by alex malcolm at 5:26 pm
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