Our first family camping trip. Only the second camping excursion of my 44 years, and the first as an adult. What did I bring to the party? Unmitigated enthusiasm, ridiculously romantic notions, and a staggering lack of preparedness.
Peanut, 8 years old, brought a book and an amazing ability to projectile barf that I thought she'd lost at around 8 months old.
Boo, at 5, brought Barbies, a prophetic concern for wild animals, and about 4,000 questions.
The Man? Well, he brought us, which says a lot for his ability to look disaster in the face and shrug.
The adventure really began, after weeks of preparing and a 2-hour drive, about 20 feet from the ranger station at the state park. That's when Peanut couldn't take the winding roads any more and erupted like Mt. St. Helens, throwing up all over the backseat, her pillow and my sleeping bag. Did I mention we were literally feet from parking at the ranger station?
We cleaned up, waited for the nausea to pass, and registered at the station.
Darkness was upon us once we reached our site. Literally. We'd hoped to avoid setting up after nightfall, but there we were. Yet the Man managed to pitch the tent, get everything necessary into it, and then ask the fateful question: Where are the matches to start the fire?
Hmmm. Guess I thought that was a Man thing. Didn't even have it on my list. How about a Pop Tart? I had plenty of those.
Luckily, he found a lighter in his emergency car bag (along with flares, jumper cables, etc.) and we bought wood from the camp host. The Man set about trying to make fire.
Meanwhile, the questions...
Boo: Why is there dirt? What does it do? Are there worms? Why did you put the tent there, Daddy? Can the bears get us? What are you doing Mama? Can I have a Pop Tart? Do bears like Pop Tarts? Where is the fire? Can we have s'mores? Is that a bee [it was a moth]? Will the bee eat our Pop Tarts? I hope bees don't like tents. Do bees like tents? Are there wild hoars here? Miss Tiffany [the babysitter] said there'd be wild hoars.
"Boars, Boo. Like big pigs. No, honey. There are no wild boars here."
Back to the fire. Or rather, no fire. The wood had been rained on for weeks, and we had no tinder or fire starter. The man looked at me. I looked at him.
"Plan B!" I announced cheerily. "Weenies and beans over the propane stove."
And it all went according to plan (B), until the actual eating part. No utensils. Hmmm. Definitely not a Man thing. Should have been on my list. But just never was. Ah well.
"Plan C!" I announce cheerily. "We'll use the measuring spoon I brought for my coffee." The only catch being we had to take turns. So while one of us ate, the other three hovered there, in the lantern light, watching each bite. Which was a slow process, of course, because the measuring spoon was only about 1/32nd of an inch wider than the sliced hot dogs, and you had to tap the measuring spoon over your mouth to get the hot dog to come out. It took the kids awhile to get the hang of it.
And all the while, more questions...
Boo: I think I see a wild hoar! Do hoars like hot dogs? Do we have buns? Are we going to have a fire? I'm cold. Do hoars get cold? That hoar doesn't look cold. Are we going to have s'mores? I LOVE s'mores. Do you like s'mores? Can we start a fire now?
Keep in mind, I'm not really accurately portraying the stream of questions. I'm making it sound like the occasional burst, but it was more like a steady flow, blending into the background noise like the roar of the nearby river, and largely ignored. So the whole "wild hoar" thing didn't register until her earsplitting shriek:
"The hoar wants my weenie!"
It was a raccoon, we discovered once we shined the lantern on him, and he probably would have been happy with a Pop Tart. He was the size and demeanor of a badly trained pit bull. Boo's screaming didn't phase him, or Peanut's "Shoo!". He showed some confusion when the three of us shot up on top of the picnic table like we were on pogo sticks. But the Man's baritone shouting and waving of firewood (it was finally good for something) seemed to dissuade the beast and he ran off.
Once it was clear he was gone, I climbed down off the table and considered the ramifications of Boo's shriek on our neighboring campers. I loudly proclaimed something about raccoons after hot dogs, just so everyone was clear, and then went about the obvious next step of packing the food back into the car and getting ready for bed.
So ends the first night of our first camping trip.
I did redeem myself the next morning by shaving some of the firewood into sawdust so we'd have enough tinder to actually make a fire. I was motivated by coffee, you see. The propane being depleted on the weenies and beans. It worked and we had a lovely breakfast of bacon and pancakes - which could all be eaten without silverware.
The rest of the weekend was really non-eventful - hiking, cooking on an open fire, eating with our fingers, exploring, sleeping in the tent, etc.
I loved it, the kids are wild about it, and we can't wait to go again. But I do wonder if we'll ever have a camping trip that will rival that first night. And really, would I want to?
Wow, sounds like you guys had fun on your first camping trip. Carsickness is also my problem when I travel. My family's camping out with tents for quite some time now and, hopefully, next year we can get our own RV since we're wishing for it since day one. :D
Posted by: Tia Oshields | November 04, 2011 at 08:03 AM