Yes, camping. Something legions of folks seem to enjoy immensely given the traffic jam that has become our State and National Parks. Reservations made a year in advance for a tiny patch of dirt and grass and a few trees are necessary at the most popular destinations. I'm afraid I don't really get it.
Last weekend we took to the woods on a family camping trip an hour north of where I live. We spent a few days packing up "the rig" -- our truck and truck camper -- with ample supplies of clothing, dishes, utensils, cookware, food, drink, lawn chairs, firewood, tarps, hiking poles, grill, bug spray, and toys (plus books and crocheting -- for me -- for possibly sleepless nights).
We drove to the campsite and "set up" under gray skies, having endured an impressive thunderstorm and driving rain at home only a few hours prior to our departure. We gazed upward with some anxiety, but decided it had mostly blown over. Mostly.
Shortly after Son One and his family arrived, and their tent was set up next to our rig, and we were about to settle in for a nice picnic dinner of grilled salmon, the thunder started to roll again, the skies darkened even more and sprinkles started to fall. We "girls" headed into the relative comfort and shelter of the camper while Hub and Son One put up a tarp while caught in steadily increasing rain, loud claps of thunder, and too close-for-total-comfort lighting strikes. The tarp was held in place with a startlingly complex and weblike number of ropes tied to various trees, truck, camper, and shrubs. I give it to them, it was impressive. We ate inside the camper.
Finally the rain stopped and we ventured out. The tarp protected us from dripping branches and we enjoyed a nice campfire, although the smoke from any campfire, no matter where I sit, tends to blow right in my face and I worry about breathing all those carcinogens in addition to finding "eau de smokey" not a fragrance of my liking. Still, spirits were high.
Then the Burlington Northern freight train rolled by, about 200 yards from our campsite on a busy set of tracks obscured by trees and behind a barbed wire fence, but when that whistle blew and the wheels clickity-clacked over the rails, I swear it sounded like it was pretty much coming through our campsite. This happened about 10 times a day. And night.
But we persevered. Next day the sun peeked out and we had a beautiful family hike. It was terrific fun hiking upward through a lush NW forest to a look out over the vast expanse of sea dotted with islands in the distance between the U.S. and Canada. We came back to the campsite to enjoy some lazy late afternoon quiet time.... well, except for the trains, and what seemed to be a family reunion behind us at the adjacent campsite, and the steady stream of cars, trucks, RV's, kids on bikes, camp rangers, dogs, dogs, dogs, and an infestation of raccoons with no qualms about daytime strolls into the campsite to see what was for lunch.
So it went on like this...times of great fun, connection, natural beauty; and times, for me, of wondering...Why? Here's the thing. We are very fortunate to live in a beautiful home, with a view of the city, mountains, and bay. We have a forested greenbelt behind us and a large yard with no neighbors on two sides and other neighbors, who are quiet and well-behaved, a fine distance away. We have a covered porch, with a view, and a heater in case it is chilly when we sit out there. We have a very comfortable bed and a large bathroom and a fully equipped kitchen. We have lots of entertainments at hand. It is more comfortable, more convenient, quieter, and more private AT HOME than it was in that campground.
I hate how I sound. I don't want to be "that person" for whom roughing it is the Marriott. (HAHA) But, alas, I sort of like my creature comforts, the warmth and familiarity of the home I've created, the beauty surrounding me where I live, the quiet I'm enjoying right now as I sit to write and hear birdsong from the open deck door.
On the other hand, I loved the hike, the beach and tide pools at low tide, the novelty of our family enjoying time together away from home, the joy on "Angel's" face as she experienced the wild freedom of living outdoors for a couple of days, and most especially the S'more's for lunch, which I almost never make over the stove at home.
I know some of you will admonish me for going the State Park route, where all of the noisy, crowded, annoying encumbrances I've mentioned are to be expected. You might suggest I put as many belongings as I can carry into a metal framed pack, strap it to my back, and take off for the wilderness. I suggest you get a clue. I am no way going to do that again. Been there. Not going back.
So, I know I will continue to camp on occasion. I really can't complain too much about the camper -- it is quite comfortable. It's just that I still don't really get the allure of parking in the woods for the weekend. But I do love the smell of a pine forest, an open meadow of wildflowers, the vast expanse of a Pacific Beach, the sound of crashing waves, the open vista of a high country highway....so if camping gets me all that, I guess I'm still "in", even if somewhat reluctantly.
At least, that's the view from here...©
