Went camping yesterday. It was the kids’ first trip. 28 degree low overnight. Trial by fire, Palmers always say. OJT, as Pop says.
The leaves were completely at peak, and gorgeous. We went with some friends from the old neighborhood, and some of their friends, whom we had not met before, but they were all awesome. All of our kids were about the same age. 8 kids. Not bad odds for Rollie, as he and the youngest, Vince, were the only boys. The kids had pretty much free rein through the campground, as we were the only people there. Cooper Creek runs right across the Forest Road from the campsite, and the kids enjoyed racing leaves and skipping stones (or just plopping them in).
Wood was plentiful, and there were so many of us, that the firewood gathering was a cinch. Also, men like to break things and chop things and burn things, and women are smart enough to let the men knock themselves out doing it, while the women pour themselves a stiff one.
Most of the adults took the kids on a hike to a nearby waterfall, while Debbie and I kept the home fire burning. This consists of occasionally putting a log on the fire, then pouring oneself a little bourbon and reading a book while sitting by the fire. The kids’ hike is what is referred to in parenting circles as “wearing their asses out.”
One of the dads brought a leftover Dora the Explorer pinata, and hung it in the woods, then took the kids on an adventure, and they found it in the woods. Much excitement was had by all, despite the fact that a Dora hanging in the woods out of nowhere is a little creepy and Blair Witch Project-ish.
After getting all the candy out of it, the Dora was still in one piece, so the dad and i hung back to whack the shit out of Dora with a large branch until only her head was left hanging. We did this for every parent who has had “We’re going on a berry hunt, gonna pick some juicy ones” stuck in their head for two weeks straight. You do not have to thank us. We enjoyed doing it. Possibly a little too much.
The hike and pinata were followed by stuffing their bellies with all kinds of junk food, preservatives, and cancer-inducing nitrate-filled meats on a stick, then topping them off with smores until their little bellies distend, and their eyes glaze over.
With so many parents to watch over the little ones, I got a few minutes alone on both days. Quint and I hiked halfway up the ridge by the campsite until he started looking at me like I was crazy. He is eight and arthritic and grumpy, and I love him, so I stopped. Also? I might be able to run 12 miles, but hiking uses all sorts of muscles I am not used to working out. I am sore today.
Getting kids into pjs, warm, into sleeping bags, and asleep in tents is not the easiest thing in the world, but once we got them calmed down, everyone’s kids crashed out. When the sun went down, we had the pleasure of hearing a bunch of owls. Sitting around the campfire is always fun, and we had a Waxing Gibbous moon overhead, so one could walk around and pee without a flashlight. The stars were out, as it was cold and clear. I forget that living in the city is like having a mesh screen over me when i look at the sky, that i am only seeing a small part of it’s mesmerizing tapestry. They were beautiful, the owls were beautiful, the leaves were beautiful, the sound of the wind in the trees was beautiful, the sound of the creek running was beautiful, and seeing my kids run around in the woods was beautiful.
Sleeping in the tent when it goes down to 28 degrees is not so beautiful, but was survivable. Tiller and I snuggled together in the tent (Todd and Rollie were in the next one) and she really slept, while I spent most of the night, worrying that she was going to keep kicking off her sleeping bag, and dozing fitfully while Quint did smaller and smaller donuts at the end of tiller’s feet. I was so happy to cuddle in with that smelly, stinky love of a dog. According to Todd, Rollie spent the entire night mummified in his own bag, without even his head sticking out. Smart kid, that one. I had to get up in the middle of the night and pee, and it was pretty much the worst pee ever. I thought for sure Quint would freak out and have to follow me, but it was too cold for even him, and when I climbed back in the tent, the little sneak had crawled up into the head of my bag and curled up, his head right next to Tiller’s. At least he had the honor to look a little guilty when I came back in, but when i told him to move, he growled at me. I then got tickled, wondering if anyone else heard Quint growling and wondered if there was a wild animal in the camp.
I never did get much sleep, and i wasn’t cold enough to freeze to death, but it was cold enough to not be comfortable and wish for morning. It was still better than the rainy night I spent in Joyce Kilmer with Zach and Scott, when Scott slept fitfully and did that weird half-dreaming, half-awake thing and he dreamt that a bear was attacking the tent and actually cried out in his sleep, scaring the bejeesus out of us all – It still makes me laugh to think about the warbling fearful moan that woke me that night; That was by far the most miserable camping trip in the history of the world, even worse than the windy and rainy LSD camping trip in college.
This was not like that at all, though. it was fun, and mostly relaxing, and it made me yearn for the outdoors, as I always do. I often think that the way we live today is not the way we were made to live.
Oh, and not one kid asked for the tv the whole time we were there.
