On Friday, rain looming, our family set out to go camping. It was the annual Palo Duro trip with my sister-in-law, Valerie, and her contingent. This year we added the Elder Bakers to the mix. Their recreational vehicle turned out to be a great source of refuge in the early squalls, and a continuous source of refuge for the camping-averse teens who were eventually forced out into the sunlight after elicit use of the bathroom.
Jon and I scrambled to set up a tarp shanty, covering tents that had varying levels of water permeability. Note: a tarp under the tent just causes water to pool, only use tarps that are less than the footprint of your tent for ground cover. Eventually we had to give up on my pop-up tent from 1996, too wet. We had relegated aforementioned camping-averse teens to that tent, so they bailed to the relative comfort of Valerie and Richard’s living room sized nylon abode.
Partially dry and mostly unslept, I emerged in the grey morning seeking coffee and oatmeal. The abandoned and waterlogged tent was taking valuable potential kitchen space under the tarps so I disassembled it and set up a camp table. After I had the coffee and oatmeal cooking, I realized that the shanty needed one more tarp wall and one less tarp floor. How I got the tarp floor out from under a rickety camp table with flaming propane and scalding liquids remains a story I would not like to recount to any park ranger. Suffice it to say only minor burns were incurred.
At dawn, as the elder Bakers remained squirreled away in the recreational vehicle, the rest of the sodden camp community arrived in ones and twos for coffee and hot water from the tarp shanty mess hall with the earthen floor. Some remarked that it was warmer under the tarps, a statement in which I took no small amount of pride. In a nearby camp the “Texas Outdoor Family” initiative was giving out lessons on how to erect your store bought tent. Don’t those come with instructions? Send them over here and we’ll show them real camping: tarps and bungee cords lashed together with innovation and the occasional well-placed rock.
The first night, before bedtime even arrived, Valerie’s air mattress had deflated, causing them to sleep on its flattened remains. So after breakfast - I am embarrassed to admit - we drove to a nearby Wal-Mart to requisition a new bed. Before we left I pulled on a yellow sweater and asked Jon about my appearance. He said, “Who cares, we’re camping.” To which I replied, “But I’m going to Wal-Mart,” realizing, of course, the silliness of the statement as it left my lips. So the women drove to Wal-Mart and blinked in the fluorescent light, wondering how it had come to this. Note to self: camping is no time for shopping. I returned tired, confused, and holding several white plastic bags of stuff I didn’t even know I needed.
Eventually, the rain stopped and the mood around camp warmed up. The birds came out, in droves and flocks, and we took the “littles” on a walk. The “littles” are that preschool duo we know as Axel and Ben, full of energy, bikes rooster-tailing through mud puddles. The walk was nice, we tracked a melodic Cardinal who was adopted as the Baker family camp mascot. The boys erred dangerously close to cacti and discovered an entire abandoned windmill which they were not yet inclined to climb. Probably next year, when grown-ups aren’t looking.
After terra-forming the camp playground into less of a soggy disaster (wood chips can soak up a lot of water) the grown-ups were tuckered out and retreated to a nice fire and cold beverages. My father-in-law, Bill, tended the fire and made judicious use of limited wood supplies. We toasted marshmallows, or incinerated them, as the case may be, and pontificated on the various methods and ingredient types for achieving the perfect s’more. We were reminded that the first one is the best and it only goes downhill if you have s’more.
Later, Valerie and I discussed my blog. I often say Facebook ate it, removing it’s raison d’etre. However, if I posted something like this as a FB status update I am relatively certain Beth Fisk would get on her bike and come over here just to mock me. I should be so lucky (hi Beth!). So here we have it, a nearly complete blog post. All it lacks are photos, it certainly does not lack words! Any pictures, campers? I did not take a single shot but I did see Bill, Richard and Mimi shutterbugging… send your pics!
Jon and I scrambled to set up a tarp shanty, covering tents that had varying levels of water permeability. Note: a tarp under the tent just causes water to pool, only use tarps that are less than the footprint of your tent for ground cover. Eventually we had to give up on my pop-up tent from 1996, too wet. We had relegated aforementioned camping-averse teens to that tent, so they bailed to the relative comfort of Valerie and Richard’s living room sized nylon abode.
Partially dry and mostly unslept, I emerged in the grey morning seeking coffee and oatmeal. The abandoned and waterlogged tent was taking valuable potential kitchen space under the tarps so I disassembled it and set up a camp table. After I had the coffee and oatmeal cooking, I realized that the shanty needed one more tarp wall and one less tarp floor. How I got the tarp floor out from under a rickety camp table with flaming propane and scalding liquids remains a story I would not like to recount to any park ranger. Suffice it to say only minor burns were incurred.
At dawn, as the elder Bakers remained squirreled away in the recreational vehicle, the rest of the sodden camp community arrived in ones and twos for coffee and hot water from the tarp shanty mess hall with the earthen floor. Some remarked that it was warmer under the tarps, a statement in which I took no small amount of pride. In a nearby camp the “Texas Outdoor Family” initiative was giving out lessons on how to erect your store bought tent. Don’t those come with instructions? Send them over here and we’ll show them real camping: tarps and bungee cords lashed together with innovation and the occasional well-placed rock.
The first night, before bedtime even arrived, Valerie’s air mattress had deflated, causing them to sleep on its flattened remains. So after breakfast - I am embarrassed to admit - we drove to a nearby Wal-Mart to requisition a new bed. Before we left I pulled on a yellow sweater and asked Jon about my appearance. He said, “Who cares, we’re camping.” To which I replied, “But I’m going to Wal-Mart,” realizing, of course, the silliness of the statement as it left my lips. So the women drove to Wal-Mart and blinked in the fluorescent light, wondering how it had come to this. Note to self: camping is no time for shopping. I returned tired, confused, and holding several white plastic bags of stuff I didn’t even know I needed.
Eventually, the rain stopped and the mood around camp warmed up. The birds came out, in droves and flocks, and we took the “littles” on a walk. The “littles” are that preschool duo we know as Axel and Ben, full of energy, bikes rooster-tailing through mud puddles. The walk was nice, we tracked a melodic Cardinal who was adopted as the Baker family camp mascot. The boys erred dangerously close to cacti and discovered an entire abandoned windmill which they were not yet inclined to climb. Probably next year, when grown-ups aren’t looking.
After terra-forming the camp playground into less of a soggy disaster (wood chips can soak up a lot of water) the grown-ups were tuckered out and retreated to a nice fire and cold beverages. My father-in-law, Bill, tended the fire and made judicious use of limited wood supplies. We toasted marshmallows, or incinerated them, as the case may be, and pontificated on the various methods and ingredient types for achieving the perfect s’more. We were reminded that the first one is the best and it only goes downhill if you have s’more.
Later, Valerie and I discussed my blog. I often say Facebook ate it, removing it’s raison d’etre. However, if I posted something like this as a FB status update I am relatively certain Beth Fisk would get on her bike and come over here just to mock me. I should be so lucky (hi Beth!). So here we have it, a nearly complete blog post. All it lacks are photos, it certainly does not lack words! Any pictures, campers? I did not take a single shot but I did see Bill, Richard and Mimi shutterbugging… send your pics!
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