Camping always seems like a good idea before you go.
My current camping experience is minimal and usually comes about when my daughter’s girl scout troop plans a trip. My daughter looks up at me with huge Disney princess eyes and says, “You’re going, right, Mom?” Since they say the first child is like the first pancake, and I’m out of batter, I say yes. I don’t want her telling some therapist years from now that I never participated in things that were important to her.
It was only a weekend at a camp approximately an hour away. I was pretty Gung Ho about our mini adventure until I walked in on the troop leader’s “there-might-be-snakes-in-the-showers-or-toilets” speech. I briefly considered a low-liquid, low-fiber diet. She followed that up with the “possibility-of-tarantulas-in-the-morning” talk. I wasn’t falling for that one. Her husband used that line on me during a prior outing. I couldn’t back out. If I was willing to send my child into the wild, I should be willing to go.
My daughter and I reviewed the fact sheet and packing list. There would be cabins, a limited kitchen, toilets and (possibly reptile infested) showers. BYOTP! Despite all this, my only concern was where I was going to get a cup of coffee in the mornings. I packed Starbucks Via instant coffee, non-refrigerated creamer and a dollar bill. The dollar was not to buy coffee, but to roll into a tube and snort the grounds directly should things turn truly desperate.
We met at the leader’s house Friday afternoon and trailed each other to Camp Gambill– rhymes with “gamble”. It was three adults versus seven scouts, our own motley set of dwarves: Happy, Grumpy, Sneezy, Clingy, Talkie, Doc and Posh. We inspected our accommodations and made our bunks. Not 20 minutes into our trip, an armadillo walked into our campground to dig for dinner. The girls were entranced. Then, squawking geese flew overhead, their bellies tinted orange by the sunset, and I realized this trip might go all right.
We set off on a twilight walk around the grounds to familiarize ourselves with our surroundings. We trudged through the forest and emerged to the view at the bottom of the page. The girls admired nature’s beauty for a few moments and we walked on.
Not five minutes later, Grumpy was so busy trying to take a picture of the still grazing Mr. Armadillo, that she didn’t see Mr. Skunk six feet away from her. When the girls called to warn her, she shouted back an exasperated, “What?” and Mr. Skunk cocked his tail. It would be a much better story if I could say she got sprayed–but she didn’t.
This incident taught me that certain things are not innate, so here’s some advice: if you see people running–run. Don’t stand there trying to determine WHY people are running. You can work that out later. Half the troop ran because they understood why skunks should be given a wide berth and because we didn’t know if Mr. Skunk was married. The other half of the troop stood there admiring how cute he was. They’ll learn.
The bad part about camping with children is that they bring their personalities along. My daughter, Clingy, expressed dismay that she’d actually have to drink tap water. Sneezy refused to eat the Saturday night dinner and Happy was determined to be camp clown. After dinner the girls headed back to their cabin. When I checked on them they were happy, talking and completely oblivious to the fact their cabin smelled like feet.
Saturday was full of hiking and play. The girls found tire swings and rode. They gathered fallen foliage for projects. They walked the lake shore, collected shells and gathered dried reeds to make baskets. That evening the girls received the badges they recently earned and found planets and stars on the leader’s phone with Google Sky Maps.
I had spent the afternoon plotting a practical joke on the girls. For instance, while hiking it occurred to me there’s no law that says you actually have to SEE a snake to yell “Snake!!!” and run screaming past the children. I decided on something more docile. The cabins had tin roofs. I decided a few well-tossed pebbles before sunrise, accompanied by some convincing animal noises would make for an interesting morning. The joke was on me. At three in the morning, Doc got sick, we had to evacuate the girls to the clubhouse and clean up. Good times!
After archery lessons the next morning we packed up and headed back to real life. Posh was content to nap. Clingy and Talkie are apparently majoring in song lyrics at school and sang all the way home. I returned my portion of the precious cargo back to their parents and took my daughter to In-In-Out for a burger. With her belly full, she unpacked her gear and fell out. She slept for seventeen hours. She’s going camping again in November. I’ll be at home with a fresh bottle of bubble bath.
