Camping as a Teen
camping
The Boy Returns
Our first camping trip with scouts was exactly six years ago this weekend — I didn’t know that until I checked the way-back machine at the bottom of the page. I was with the Boy during that trip, and I made sure he kept warm. And there was no rain, so keeping dry was a simple issue.
This weekend he was alone, and I had no idea how it would go. We went about our weekend, including a lovely walk this morning, as if everything had gone perfectly.
Still, the questions from Friday’s post lingered in our heads:
Did we prepare him well enough? Is he going to keep warm and dry this evening? Will he accidentally put his pack up against the wall of the tent and get his stuff wet? There’s no way to know until Sunday.
“Camping“
And so today, we found out.
“Did we prepare him well enough?” No, not really. We didn’t send him with a tarp to put under his tent, so he had to bunk with two other boys, crammed into their tent.
“Is he going to keep warm and dry this evening?” Most definitely not: the tent leaked.
“Will he accidentally put his pack up against the wall of the tent and get his stuff wet?” No, he didn’t do that, but the tent leaked badly enough that almost all his clothes got wet, so he was stuck with one tee-shirt and a pair of shorts for the rest of the trip.
But did he have fun? Most definitely.
“Did you want to give up?” we asked him.
“Yes, that first morning.” But after he and the boys he bunked with hiked back to the cars with one of the adults to get a spare tent and take back all their wet stuff — which was almost everything — things were fine.
Fine, but tiring — which you can see from the picture of his return:
Once we got home, and he took a shower and had some warm, tasty home cooking, he settled down with a cup of hot tea to relax for a couple of hours.
Camping
The Boy has headed off on his first solo backpack camping trip. They left today at four, with the plan of hiking about an hour to their first site.
Tomorrow morning, they pack up and head further into the Foothills Trail, camping one more night before heading back Sunday.
And of course, it’s raining there right now. If it’s raining like it is here, it’s a light rain that shouldn’t cause too much trouble.
But it’s rain nonetheless. Did we prepare him well enough? Is he going to keep warm and dry this evening? Will he accidentally put his pack up against the wall of the tent and get his stuff wet? There’s no way to know until Sunday.
Scout Family Campout Day 2
Scout Family Campout Day 1
Our Tent Last Week
I forgot about the pictures we took in and of the new little tent we used last week.
To call it “cozy” is quite an understatement.
We had to store the gear in the cabin in which some of the other boys slept.
Weebos Woods 2021
The idea is simple: to get Cub Scouts ready for being Boy Scouts, they spend a weekend as a small patrol as for-the-weekend Boy Scouts with an actual scout leading them through the weekend’s activities.
“Parents, you will only see your children in the morning at breakfast, in the afternoon at lunch, in the evening at dinner, and when it’s time to go to bed. We want to begin building a sense of independence in these kids,” the camp leader explained Friday night.
So as to what the Boy actually did, I’m a little clueless. Which is not to say I don’t know what activities he did. He shot a pellet gun, learned how to make a fire, cooked cobbler over a campfire, went on a hike, and a few other things. But as to what that actually looked like, I really don’t know. I saw him here and there throughout the day, but mostly, I left him alone with his patrol and its Boy Scout leader.
And this is why I have no pictures of him doing these things: I was out hiking or reading or grading papers.
In the evening, as with all scout camps, there was a variety show of sorts. The kids put on various skits, including the scout classic “Important Papers.”
“Do you have my important papers?” Scout hands the boy papers. “No! Not these!” The next scout comes up and the main actor asks again, “Do you have my important papers?” Scout hands the boy papers. “No! Not these!” Repeat for as many times as necessary until there’s one scout who comes with a roll of toilet paper. “Yes! These are my important papers!” We’ve seen it done every camp, which is probably one of the reasons why the leaders have to approve each skit — to prevent every patrol from doing the “Important Papers” favorite.
The upshot — we got little sleep but E had a fantastic time and was eager to go again.
Day 62: Camping in the Backyard
We’ve gone camping as a family quite a few times: Stone Mountain, Deep Creek, Lake Jocassee, and Huntington Beach come immediately to mind. Memorial Day was always a great weekend to go camping, and we went most often to the beach. But then life got complicated, family got sick, schedules changed, and responsibilities grew so that now, even if there weren’t a pandemic to worry about, we would not be able to go camping as a family for quite some time. For how long? We really don’t know.
The Boy, though, wanted to go camping. So we did the obvious thing last night: we pitched a tent in our backyard and spent the night in it. There — camping.
Well, not quite. We took our pillows down with us. Somehow, we never remember to bring our pillows — or any pillows really — when we go camping.
Also, I went in to get E’s blanket in the middle of the night when I woke to find him only barely covered with the sleeping bag because he was sleeping under it instead of in it.
And we didn’t have to strike camp this morning. We just left it up, thinking we might go camping again.
Finally, and most significantly for me, I took a shower without flipflops this morning.
Yesterday afternoon, we also put up K’s new swing. It’s hanging a little wonky now, and I didn’t have a chance to figure out today why, but it’s there. And the dog even likes it.
As for today, other than the single picture from this morning, I never had occasion to take out the camera. Who wants to see pictures of bathrooms in the midst of weekly cleaning or the crawl space as I examine the water pipes to try to figure out why they’re banging and knocking?
Scout Almost-Campout
The idea behind a campout is that we take a temporary home with us, setting it up in a forest and staying there for a night or two. Without that little element, it’s a day trip.
But what if you forget something? No, not the tent. The tent arrived with us safe and sound in the trunk. Along with the sleeping bags, air mattresses, camera, water-and-snack bag, shoes, Class A uniform, and cell phone. What didn’t make it? Our backpack filled with clothes. And toiletries. And flashlights.
K called just as we were crossing into North Carolina.
“Where are you?”
“We’re still on our way, just crossing into North Carolina.”
A long pause.
“Because you forgot the backpack with everything in it.”
I’d so meticulously packed everything, taking care to plan for all eventualities — long sleeves for sleeping, a jacket for the morning, extra contact lenses for me, extra everything — and double-checking that I had everything. And then I didn’t double-check that I had everything in the car.
We made plans: perhaps friends were coming and they could bring the bag. Nope, not this year. Perhaps the den leader knew of someone who was coming later and they could bring the bag that K would take over to them. Nope. In the end, we decided to wait a few hours and see. If the Boy wanted to stay, K and I could meet halfway, making it only an hour-and-a-half round trip for both of us. If not, we’d just go home after the evening’s bonfire.
As often happens, the Boy was reticent to engage with the other boys at first. He clung to my side for the first half hour or so. Eventually, he joined in.
It’s a common theme for the Boy. He likes to watch from the periphery for a while, check out what’s going on, see who’s who. I think he gets it from me. K just dives in — she’s one of the most socially fearless people I’ve ever met. I’m a bit more cautious, and whether by example or genetics, the Boy has gotten that from me.
Once he felt comfortable, once he joined in with a couple of boys from his den, I didn’t see him all that much during the free play times. He was a totally transformed boy, and his chattiness and silliness took hold, for once he’s figured out the what’s going on, he chats with everyone. He used to chat with players on the opposing soccer team during games, for heaven’s sake, so perhaps he’s a mix of K and me.
After games, we went for a den hike. Four boys from the den were there, four fathers as well, along with a big sister.
Mr. B, the den master, taught the kids about a few plants and trees, helped them find insects, discussed the possibility of fish living in the pond we were walking beside, and explained to the boys what was on tap for the evening.
“In the evening, we’ll be having a flag retirement ceremony and a little variety show,” Mr. B explained. “We’ll have to prepare a skit for tonight’s show.”
I’d already talked to the Boy about the flag ceremony. Last year he’d been disturbed by the fact that the scouts were burning flags.
This year, we talked about it several times before the event, so he was not nearly as worried. This year was different as well because there were so many flags for retirement that every scout received a flag to put on the fire.
After the ceremony and the skit, the Boy and I headed home.
“I definitely need a shower when we get home,” E proclaimed, but I knew with an hour and a half trip ahead of us, there was little chance of him being awake when we got there. And indeed, by the time we were ten minutes out, he was fast asleep.
Lake Jocassee, Day 4
Lake Jocassee, Day 3
I don’t remember how the idea came about, but somehow we got into our heads to get up in time to watch the sun rise over the lake. We knew that either the small beach or the rock (or both) would provide an excellent view, so we got up just as the sky was brightening and headed to the beach. L, deep asleep and unresponsive to most everything, stayed behind.
We first went to the beach, but that was a mistake: a small rise on the other side of the lake blocked the view of the sun breaking over the horizon so that by the time it was visible over the rise, it was relatively high in the sky. It took some work in Lightroom to make the shot look like a sunrise when in fact, it looked like this.
We decided that we should check out the rock outcropping with the idea that we might try again the next day. It was clearly the better location of the two.
The Boy was with us, but he wasn’t really interested in the sunrise. He wanted to fish. I’d mentioned the previous day that early morning efforts lead to greater fishing success, so when he heard us talking about going out to watch the sunrise, he was eager to take his fishing pole with him.
I talked him into heading out onto the rock outcropping and he cast his line. I positioned myself so the sun was just out of the frame and clicked off a picture. I didn’t really think anything of it, didn’t really think it would be an image of much more significance than all the other pictures I took, but when I got it home and in Lightroom, I had one of those rare experiences as an amateur photographer: I thought, “I took that picture?!”
Definitely, it’s in my top five all-time best pictures.
Morning we spent on the small beach. We weren’t the only ones with that idea, though.
That could have been a bad thing, but camping brings out a certain type of family, generally speaking, and we all were getting along famously soon enough. One of the families had small, child-size kayaks, and we asked if E could try it out.
He was instantly hooked. “We have to get one of these.”
He enjoyed kayaking with adults as well, but not nearly as much. That independence, once he got a taste of it, was incomparable.
Finally, as we were getting dinner ready, the Boy noticed a young man in a neighboring tent site.
“Mommy, can I go play with him? He looks bored.” We went over what he should say, had a little practice session with him (“Hi, my name is E. Would you like to play?”), and sent him on his way.
Lake Jocassee, Day 2
The Boy and I began the second day with a walk while the girls took the kayak out for a spin. We followed various paths and made a couple of discoveries. First, there was a playground nearby. We never used it again. Second, there was an amazingly small beach just down the shore from the tent camping sites that promised a much lovelier swimming experience than the large public beach.
After lunch, we all headed to the beach, hoping to get the dog further into the water. K had the brilliant idea of simply holding Clover and walking her out to a deeper part of the lake. She stood there with the dog, constantly reassuring her that everything was okay, and then let her swim back to the shore. That seemed to be all it took because she was generally fine with the water after that. Generally.
In the afternoon, the Boy and I headed out in the canoe, where we made a second discovery: a large rock protruding from the shore was just on the other side of the campground.
In the evening we checked out the two discoveries with the girls. Everyone declared that we must never go back to the public beach again, and the Boy declared that the large rock would be a perfect spot for fishing. The large crowd of teenagers determined it was the perfect spot for tomfoolery, but that’s what teens do.
Lake Jocassee, Day 1
There’s a part of me that really doesn’t like camping. I don’t know if it’s the looming inconveniences (what if I can’t sleep? what if we get a huge rainstorm that floods everything?) or the drudgery of setting up camp and then breaking it back down — I just don’t like it in a way. If I truly felt that way, I guess I’d still go camping with my family because they all enjoy it so much, but the truth of the matter is, I don’t feel that way. Well, at times I’m a little frustrated with the whole process of breaking down a campsite, especially after it’s rained. It’s even worse if things are still wet and we have to pack them nonetheless.
But even that is only a mild convenience, and it doesn’t even figure into the joy of the start of a camping trip when the equipment is all set up and clean.
This weekend, we camped at Lake Jocassee for the first time. We’ve been there a time or two — probably only once, now that I think about it — just on day trips, but this was a four-day, three-night camping trip to end the summer. It was supposed to be to begin the summer: our reservation was originally for Memorial Day, but the weather didn’t cooperate. This timing was much better, though: a last hurrah before the start of the school year.
This trip introduced a novel element, though, an element that both K and I were worried about: we brought the dog. She’s not a calm dog; when she gets excited, she’s still not an obedient dog; when she’s around new people and places, she gets very hyper — together, these three facts made us wonder whether we might end up regretting it.
“The dog will be on-leash the whole time,” we told the kids. “Make sure the dog does not get off leash ever,” we repeated. I had visions Clover running around the campground, jumping on people, knocking down unsuspecting children, lawsuits piling up if she got off-leash.
In short, I was a pessimist about the whole thing. “If push comes to shove, we’re only an hour and change away from home. I’ll just take her home if she’s crazy,” I told K. We agreed that it was a sound plan.
We’d planned on renting a tandem kayak for the weekend, and we thought we’d always be split up: one person with one child, the other with the other child (who would be cranky about not being on the kayak) and the dog, which in truth I feared would be more burdensome than then cranky child. It turned out that no one was cranky about being left behind and the dog was — well, more on that later.
And so we arrived on Saturday morning, set up the tent, and went swimming in the cool water of Lake Jocassee. We took the dog with us, and she was predictably terrified of water. It’s what’s made bathing her such a chore that we rarely do it. Things were different this time. L spent last week at K9 Cadet camp with Clover, and one of the things she learned was that you can’t give into a dog’s initial fear of water.
“Just correct her and tell her to come to you,” L explained. And it worked: the dog came out to the belly-deep water where we were standing and awaited further instruction.
“Sometimes that dog’s obedience shocks me,” I thought.
Deciding that was enough for an initial exposure, I stayed with the dog for most of the remaining swim time, alternating between sitting with her and having her walk along the shore in shallow water.
We went back to the tent, fixed dinner, and went to bed early, finishing up the evening with a bit of in-tent gaming.
The kids played Super Farmer with K. The game is odd: a Polish game (at least we got it in Poland and K remembered playing it most of her life) that involves building a farm by rolling dice and getting farm animals. You trade up: x bunnies can trade for y sheep and so on. Until you roll a fox or a wolf, which wipes you out partially or entirely.
The Boy was getting frustrated with losing all his hard-earned gains to wild predators, so they all agreed to play without the dangerous animals.
If only we could play life like that. Of course, we could — it’s not that difficult. All we have to do is agree to play by the same rules and we’d have no foxes or wolves to worry about. K and I talked about that that first evening, looking out at Lake Jocasssee, a man-made lake that is the same age as I. “We can make lakes and send people to the moon, but we can’t get along.”
And while there are some down sides to camping, one of the great up-sides is this: it attracts like-minded people. You don’t find many wolves in campgrounds; you don’t find many overly-materialistic people setting up tents; you don’t find superficial outlooks among the campers. So perhaps that’s some progress.
Getting Ready
We’ll be going on an end-of-summer camping trip this weekend, though it will be a little different from any other trip. Well, a lot different: the dog is coming along, too.
Camp Food
Sometimes we eat better at camp than at home;
sometimes, not so much.
Home Away from Home
With the addition of a new camper, we had to buy a new tent. This time, though, we looked at the experience of our “four man” tent and realized that tent sizes (i.e., the number of people that can sleep in it) assume that the campers are crammed in head to toe with nothing else in the tent. The thought of the four of us in our four man tent was horrifying, so we bought a six man tent.
We’re not into roughing it with a two-year-old, and we knew we would need quite a bit of room for storage, including toys for two. We shopped around, bought a tent, put it up, decided we hated it (and saw a small small hole in the canopy), took it back, shopped some more, and finally bought a tent online.
The result: utter comfort. Enough room for everything, a protected storage area, and plenty of space for toys.
Having room when we slept made every other part of the trip more enjoyable because it really became a home away from home, with similar daily routines. Of course there’s the eating and the sleeping, but with the creek just a few feet away, daily laundry trips make the rituals complete. Oh, of course we didn’t wash anything in the creek for real. The excellent campground facilities made that really unnecessary. But for a quick rinse, say from accidents…
Motorcycle Camper
The New Tent
We’ll be heading out camping as a family of four for the first time on Memorial Day weekend. Only problem: our tent (four-person? or is it a three-person tent?) is definitely not enough for the four of us. Enter: our six-person tent.
“We’re Sleeping in a Forest”
When there’s a toddler in the family, life is a series of firsts: first time swimming; first time on an airplane; first time at the ocean.
This weekend, we added another one: first time camping, at Oconee State Park.
Oconee State Park was one of the many parks created during the thirties by the Civilian Conservation Corps. Given all the “socialism!” and “socialist!” and “socializing!” noise of the last days, it seemed oddly appropriate that we cut ourselves off from the civilized world by going to a New Deal project. I felt brainwashed when we left, but not indoctrinated.
Our “rustic site,” deep in the woods and far away from the hordes of RV-ers, was just that: very spartan. A semi-flat spot for a tent, a picnic table, and a fire circle were the only things non-native.
L was immediately thrilled, particularly with the prospect of roasting marshmallows on the fire.
“And now we can,” began K, and L finished, “Marshmallows?”
“I’m going to bring that from the car, then we can,” I said, and L finished, “Marshmallows?”
When the time finally came, though, it turned out that marshmallow preference might be genetic: like me, she didn’t really care for the marshmallow but greatly enjoyed setting them on fire. K and I ate one each; L burned most of the remainder.
It being L’s first time out, we decided to make every effort to maintain our daily routine. L was more than happy to watch the fire rather than read a book as she readied herself for bed.
The next morning, another first: mini golf. L quickly developed her own style, and her own rules.
“I hear they’re going to count that as a legitimate stroke,” I said to a father of two one hole ahead of us as we both watched, laughing, L gently push her ball to the hole. “If the ball remains in contact with the club’s face, it’s one stroke.” Our neighboring golfer liked the rule.
She seemed to enjoy putting it into her pocket after every hole more than the actual game itself.
For others, it was all about the game.
In the afternoon, we did the logical thing: go swimming. The man-made lake was shallow but cold. L didn’t notice, though.
The water’s coolness was quite possibly a relief to some, considering their trajectories toward the water and the smack! of impact.
It was an afternoon of “again.”
“I want to jump!” cried L. “Again, and again, and again!”
No mini-vacation afternoon would be complete without ice cream. As a younger toddler, L took a while to appreciate the sweet chill of good ice cream. These days, there’s no question, no hesitation, and no doubt.
“Want some ice cream?” we asked, though only rhetorically.
And the question had to be well-timed. The swim in the lake would have lasted all but five minutes had she known we were planning on having ice cream afterward.
We headed to a playground, where we were surprised once again at how quickly L can pick up a new skill. All it took was seeing one little girl slide down the pole at the corner of the playground and L was begging to try.
The paddle boat was a slightly different story, though. It’s odd: L loves water, but she’s always very nervous doing something new around the water. The ocean terrified her, and the lake at the park initially didn’t calm her anxieties much.
Still, she was willing to try, provided we took a blue boat.
A walk around the park brought the weekend to a close, and the water fountain at the end of the trail was a thrilling surprise for L.
As always, the best part, though, was the return. Lumpy, slanted nights’ sleep left all of us feeling we hadn’t actually slept at all. “I woke up every single time I turned over,” K admitted as I mumbled about how badly I slept.
It left us all jealous of creatures who can curl up comfortably wherever they are, and happy at the thought of our own beds.
“Just think: it will be soft, even, and flat.”
Backyard Setup
We’re going on our first family camping trip over the Labor Day weekend. First, we have to check out the tent.
Of course, the Girl has to help. She loves helping, though until the last few months, her help has not been terribly helpful.
But she’s getting good at holding things for us.
“I can hold it?” she asks. She keeps a tight grip for a few moments, then asks, “You need this, Mama?” If Mama doesn’t need it, L quickly loses interest.
Once set up, the tent is a hit. It’s a palatial space for the Girl, and she makes good use of it, running about, jumping, being generally toddler-ish.
