I used to like camping. But I hate it now. Why do we camp? To see nature? I can see that without camping. To get away? I can do that without camping also. For peace? Nah. Family time? Double Nah.
Don't get me wrong - I still camp, but I do it for my kids and Mr. Man. They love it. They fish, they ride bikes, they swim, they fish some more. They make fires and cook over the campstove. They love sleeping in the tent trailer and talking about how great a sleep they had the next morning.
Someone might say, "Oh, you should try REAL camping," but I've done it. I've trekked through the woods, pack on my back, canoe over my head, and paddled to a site where you slept in a pup tent and pooped in a hole. I've camped in the cold, wearing a toque at night and sleeping in a down feather sleeping bag to keep even slightly warm (and waking with a swollen face since I am allergic to feathers). I have my badge in white water canoeing after a week of paddling, shouting, dodging rocks, and trying not to fall out as we tackled the rapids. Never. Again.
That may have broke me. Or perhaps it was that fall trip where it continually rained, and rained, and rained, until our feet sunk in the mud around our cooking station, and we could not do ANYTHING.
After several weeks of summer passing by, I realized the kids had not had a camping trip. Mr. couldn't get time off work, so the kids and I went on our own. Off we went to a beautiful site out of the way, right along Lake Ontario. The site was covered in green grass and apple trees loomed overhead. We were to have a wonderful three days.
Unfortunately, a storm had come up a few days before and knocked the majority of the apples onto the ground. Painful on the feet. Luckily we found a clear spot to set up the tent, and there was a picnic table to place everything on. We strolled down to the beach, and played in the waves. We went to the nearly museum to take a tour. We sat under a maple tree and read books. Mom even came to visit, and helped us with supper.
We heard that it may rain the second night, so the kids and I had purchased extra tarps to hang over the tent and the dining area. We had plenty of trees to tie the tarps onto, but, alas, we couldn't quite reach them. No matter how we wrapped or hung or strapped the ropes, it just wasn't as great as Mr. would have done. But we were proud of ourselves. Bring on the rain.
It just so happened that mom and dad lived close by, so we thought it wouldn't be too anti-camping to take a drive over to the farm. Once it was agreed on, we couldn't get there fast enough. As we jumped into the jeep, we could hear the water crashing off the stickless tarp roof. It had given up as well.
Of course, it might have been the fact that the tarp was tied to the jeep...oh, good grief.
Pulling in to mom's place, we were soaked, hungry, and Little Miss was barefoot. She had lost a sandal in the lake. All we had was what was in the jeep. Food and books. Life's importancies. We spent the night wearing mom's clothes, sitting by the fireplace, and wondering how we would find the campsite next morning.
The rain never stopped until well after we were asleep.
Mom helped us pack up the next day. Wet, gross, defeated, broken; just like I felt. The tent went into the garbage along with the frying pan (I had burned our breakfast). Everything else was thrown into the jeep in a heap. I couldn't wait to get home.
We've been on trips since then that have been cold, wet, and uncomfortable, and yet, some with sunshine, warm lakes, and wonderful breezes. Despite the situation, however, each time I ask the kids what they liked best, they reply,
"Oh, just...EVERYTHING!"
And so I vent to you, my readers, instead of my family, and continue to plan our mid-October trip...with gritted teeth.
Yours in self-sacrificing-ness,
Erin
