Camping

Camping as a family growing up would’ve possibly been the weirdest thing I can imagine us doing.  That or living in a mansion.

But when I was about 12 or 13 my sister and I joined a friend’s family in Utah to go camping up American Fork Canyon.  I was obviously a kid.  And a guest.  And a novice.  So I don’t remember a single thing about setting up camp or the meals.  The only real memory I have is how the water sounded during the night as we slept.  I was entranced, lulled by its cadence.  But our tent there by the water was about as far away from life in my city apartment as you can get.  And I chalked it up to a once-in-lifetime experience that, while heavenly, I’d likely never have again.

Still a young teen, even though my introduction to camping had been a good one, I refused to go to our church camp with the rest of the girls my age.  One, because I would say we weren’t really friends and I didn’t want to be on the outskirts.  And two, because I didn’t know a thing about camping and it sort of scared me to death.  So I may have missed out on some great opportunities; I’ll never know.  But I can’t say I really regret not going.  It may have skewed my perspective on what camping really was and I might never have given it another chance.

As an older teenager my family joined my aunt and uncle and cousins for a trip to southern Utah to spend some time in the parks (Zion/Bryce).  It was a breath-taking area and it could’ve been another trip of a lifetime except that we’d all gotten sick from some bad water and miserably stayed close to camp, ignoring most of the food the moms had packed.  It was sort of a failed trip in a sense, but it tapped my love for nature that had laid dormant for so long.  I realized how myself I felt in this sort of environment.  So much at peace, more like me than I’d felt all my years growing up surrounded by surfers and California girls. 

On the other hand, Todd’s family embraced camping.  Mostly because there were six kids and not a lot of of extra for eating out and fancy hotels.  Camping was a way to see the country on a budget, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for the precedent his parents set.  One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned from them is how to enjoy life without getting tangled up in materialism and consumerism.

Todd’s parents tell of one of their first dates, a fancy BYU dance.  They could hardly keep up the charade and before long they’d changed and were up the canyon with a campfire.  Completely romantic in my eyes.   And interestingly, we started off in much the same way.  Our first date wasn’t a campfire, but a hike up a mountain.  Eventually we made our own fire up the canyon and when Todd taught me to whittle a stick I distinctly felt he was teaching me about the person I wanted to be, that maybe I was, a pivotal moment.  I knew I’d always loved nature and walking in the waves at the beach, spending time at zoos and lakes and parks.  I never minded getting dirty or wet.  I had posters of nature scenes all over my room at home and then at college.  One of my strongest pulls is from the natural world.  Nature is my happy place.  And so with Todd as my guide, I began to explore.

We camped up at Mirror Lake (Utah) in the middle of July with another couple when we were very first married.  Snow still littered the campground, but it was breathtaking and I was in.  The first of a lifetime of campouts as we started our little family.

I remember one October weekend a few years later, camping in a Missouri state park back when Todd was in vet school.  We had baby Andrew. There was one other couple in the entire campground, so it was mostly deserted and a little eerie in a way.  But heavenly.  I loved the way our fire ring was surrounded with crisping leaves.  A little unsettling once I realized all the little crunching sounds were little mice feet scampering to their homes.  There’s nothing like falling asleep next to a natural water feature, and the Jack’s Fork River provided just the right backdrop for our slumber.  I guess I’m a sucker for the sounds of nature.  Even now, I’m writing to the backdrop of nothing more than summer birds in our trees right outside the window.  If I focus I can almost pretend I’m in the mountains.

We decided that he'd be ours for the weekend, even with his intense workload at school.  We took in every state park within a reasonable driving distance and camped with friends and our little boys.  No one cares what grades you get, but these weekends together solidified our family, helping to bridge a tough time when we rarely saw each other otherwise.  I'm so glad he chose us instead of a 4.0.

Several years back we and a few other families spent Labor Day weekend at Georgetown Lake.  Everyone played on the water and water craft most  of Saturday.  We hung our suits and towels on the clothesline.  Sunday it rained all day, but we went into Phillipsburg and toured an old ghost town.  (Fascinating because I’d just finished reading a book about these old Montana towns!)  We snuggled contentedly that night as we listened to the rain on our tent as it softened and gradually turned to snow.  I had to laugh as we peeled our suits and towels off the clothesline the next morning, frozen and covered in snow.  But I loved it all, we were completely warm and dry, and it felt good to know we could handle a little adversity or an emergency.  We managed, we’ve done it since, we know we can do it again.

Most of our camping is typically Montanan, the kind where there’s a unisex outhouse, a hole in the ground with a toilet seat.  We’re almost always in the mountains and national forests, so there are few amenities.  Perfect.  Less to worry about.  I’m ok with not showering for a few days.  Everyone just smells like camp fire, so we’re all on equal ground.  Nice to have a little break from the getting-ready routine.  (Although I always wear my contacts and lipstick.)  I’m maybe weird because I prefer natural dirt to human-created dirt.  I’d rather eat outdoors on a blanket with bugs and spider webs and ants right beside me than in a dive of a restaurant with who knows what going on in back.  I’d rather use a bush than a smelly man-hole outhouse any day.  And I for sure choose a tent over a relic camper that too many people have owned—who knows what kind of nasty is left in the corners?  I guess I feel that lots of fresh air trumps closed-in people smells and that bugs and other critters are part of the ambiance.  So primitive camping doesn’t bother me much.

But one of our favorite spots is Custer State Park in South Dakota.  This is the place to go when we have friends who are kind of iffy about camping or who are just learning or who have really little kids.  The campground is grassy, so there’s not as much dirt and mud as in the mountains.  There’s also a great bath house with flush toilets and free hot showers.  Movies in the campground at night.  Fun day trips within 45 minutes in all directions, including Mt. Rushmore.  Just a great weekend destination.

We’ve camped in Glacier a couple of times, in the mountains close to home, even with the babies.  They love it.  I have to admit I’m a little on edge when we’re in bear habitat—which is most of Montana.  I hate knowing bears have been through the campsite just days before.  But we do our best to keep things tidy and I just offer up some of the strongest prayers I’ve got.

I have friends who are incredulous, unable to find anything good about camping.  One friend says it’s spending a lot of money to go live like a hobo.  There’s some truth in that.  It’s not always cheaper, gear can really add up, and of course it’s messy and everything takes a bit of an effort.  But that’s exactly what we want to teach our kids.  That experiences are worth investing in.  Confidence is not found so much in the medals that adorn walls then packed away, but in learning skills and developing talents, pushing yourself, satisfaction from working hard and becoming a part of the bigger world.  So yes, chopping wood takes time, and building a fire doesn’t come naturally.  Part of the fun is the work.  To make food, to clean up, to set up camp, to pack away tents.  I want the kids to know how to survive if the electricity goes off, how to cook from scratch, how to set up tents, why we roll the tarp under it all, what wood works best.

It might be hard for me to choose my very favorite part about all of it.  I’d have to say it’s for sure not the packing or the unpacking.  Preparation and clean up takes nearly a week on either end. And I have admit it makes me grumpy.  So it’s always better to go for at least three days, a really long weekend minimum since you have to bring the same amount of stuff regardless.  Todd’s family had an old wooden camp box;  we just use small totes with all the equipment in one spot so we don’t have to gather it each time we go:  old towels, hot pads, dish soap, salt and pepper, silverware, matches, tin foil, spatulas, can opener, knives, cutting boards, pots and pans.  I have a list to check against just in case.  So glad his family blazed the trail so I’d know what to do when I took over as matriarch of a family.

As far as packing, we’re old fashioned and simple.  We load everything we need in our van.  We took a two week road trip a few years back and camped for a week next to a river.  There were seven of us and all our gear fit just fine—we did have a car top carrier for some of the sleeping gear and the van was jammed, but we fit.  All the kids have packed their own duffle bags for as long as I can remember.  I print out a list and fill in how many tshirts, shorts, sweatshirts, socks.  They are ready to be packed as soon as they’re by the front door zipped, ideally the day before.  They also pack what we’ve termed a “to-do bag,” with homework, books, treats and are responsible for their own pillows.  What mom can remember everything for seven people?

So packing and unpacking are the bad parts.  So are wet, dirty clothes, towels, and tents.  But otherwise I can’t think of anything I don’t love about it.  I love sleeping in a tent.  On mats on the ground.  We invested in our zip-together sleeping bags when we were first married, one of our all-time best purchases.  All sorts of babies and small children have cuddled in beside us and when the temps dip, we’ll just put a quilt over all of us.  We’ve endured some cold nights, but they’ve worked pretty well, even camping in snow.

I love that we can make a meal with the most basic equipment.  Todd’s sister gave him two collapsible water jugs many years back which have joined us on many, many trips.  We have a small camp stove that Todd got for college graduation.  It rests on a table and has two burners.  One pot for water, another pan for the bacon.  We have a griddle that sits on both burners for pancakes.  It’s compact, completely sensible and has served us well for over twenty years.

I love the simplicity of housekeeping.  Straighten the sleeping bags, collect the dirty socks, wipe off the tablecloth.  I’ve never really minded this part of camping and distinctly recall one morning a couple years back washing the breakfast dishes.  It was one of those moments that told me to pay attention, this was a memory I’d want to savor.  There’s nothing better than doing everyday chores out in nature with the wind making chimes out of the leaves, the scent of pine pollinating everything it touches, the old-fashioned, carefree sounds of kids and critters, no clocks hanging on the trees to remind us what’s on schedule, just a peaceful backdrop for keeping house.  I love knowing we can make it work.

I love the rhythm, the slowness of it all.  I love that I have zero distractions keeping me from engaging.  Other than my book.  I love that we get to see new things—caves, fish hatcheries, mountain waterfalls.  Bison, bears, water critters.  I love that all we have planned for the afternoon is to play in Lake McDonald or to take a little hike.

I know I love the traditional easy meals, a week off from real cooking.  Tin foil dinners and BBQ chicken.  S’mores and  peach cobbler for late-night treats.  Waking up to bacon and pancakes and eggs.  Packets of oatmeal for last-day breakfast.  Salad and crunchy vegetables to temper everything else.  Juicy summer fruit dribbling on the checkered tablecloth.  Picnic sandwiches and chips at side-of-the-road waterfalls and day-use only pull-outs.  Treats that we normally don’t buy, Oreos, hot chocolate, occasionally some lemonade.  So fun to spoil ourselves now and then.

I love that every normal thing is an adventure.  A simple trip to the bathroom means finding the flashlight and hand sanitizer.  And a buddy.  To stay warm we need to hunt for and chop wood.  Dutch oven cooking means planning ahead, building the fire early so that the coals are just right and not too hot.  Instead of a pantry and fridge we have totes and coolers.  Clean up is easy and predictable.  The smallest of houses, yet we have everything we need.

I love lazy nights around the campfire watching the kids burn sticks and cook marshmallows.  Or listening to the group play cards late into the night.  I love being able to sneak off to my tent for some extra sleep while my whole family is happily entertained with friends, a luxury to have some time alone, knowing everyone else is content as well.

I love that it’s one of the few activities that fits every kid in our family.  Toddlers just like playing with sticks in the dirt.  Older kids like to collect pine cones and fire wood.  My teenagers and husband like to show off their muscles chopping huge logs into bits.  Little kids can get water, older kids can maintain the fire. Everyone—even toddlers—can help unload and it’s awesome when the kids can set up the tent on their own.  I love that the hikes test us all equally, that water play fits everyone’s idea of fun. 

I love when we’re all finally gathered together late at night, cozy and secluded with a dim light hanging from the net in the tent’s roof to help us feel safe.  I love having a prayer together, the intimate quiet talk in the privacy of our tiny temporary shelter.  Hearing them sleep during the night, waking up to the soft morning light, cocooned in our chilly tent, warm under the thick cover of our make-shift bedding.

So yeah, it’s hard to know what it is that draws me to the outdoors and camping specifically.  I had no idea this was me back when I was a kid, but I’m so grateful for a husband who took a chance on a city girl from California without a wild or wilderness bone in her body.  He showed me that this was the life I was yearning to live, he somehow knew I had it in me.