Townsman, 1991-07, Page 31cduaiim
The unexpected
joys of camping
BY SANDRA ORR
Many people enjoy their summer
vacations or weekends at the camp-
ground, packing their special gear and
travelling miles to the site.
I was never camping until this sum-
mer. I cheerfully accepted the invita-
tion, thinking it would be great to be
out-of-doors. I looked forward to the
scenery and the cool lake breezes and
the freshly caught fish.
But when I saw the car creatively
packed with air mattress, frying pan,
and a few bits of wood tied up with a
yellow cord, I began to wonder just
how extensive this trip would be.
There were boxes of everything from
a Coleman stove to coffee and I had to
carefully arrange some of it under my
legs after I crawled into the front seat.
Still, 1 didn't argue about a scenic
trip by car and stopping to camp at
night. Sleeping outside would be more
refreshing than a stuffy motel room.
After our first night in the tent and
after we had our gear re -packed and
were heading down the road, I discov-
ered my watch was missing. We had
to go back and check the camp
garbage. I checked the container in the
ladies washroom. Very carefully. I
overturned and spread its contents on
the floor and I had to explain to all the
curious people who wondered what I
was doing.
I sorted the good garbage, coffee
grounds and banana peels, until I
found the watch wrapped in soggy tis-
sue. Well, I thought, I am no further
behind than when we started, having
lost and found my favourite gold
watch all in the space of one morning.
The next night, we missed our turn
and didn't find the right turn for about
two hours and consequently didn't
stop until well past dark. Since we had
figured out how to pitch the tent the
night before, it didn't fall on us. When
I looked out of the tent from my 25
minute job at the foot pump of the air
mattress, my partner was balefully
glaring as he stoked up the Coleman
stove for our quick, soggy bite.
Maybe he was provoked because it
was raining or because of the
mosquitoes or maybe it was some-
thing else — anyway, I was grateful the
tent didn't leak.
The rain did not keep the
mosquitoes away — the patter on the
canvas just drowned out the sound of
their attack. I decided that scratching
the itchy bites was better than
smelling and tasting the repellent on
my skin.
The camping became more and
more interesting. The next night, we
were informed, "Don't leave your
garbage behind or food lying outside
the tent. Bears pass through here."
Many times during the night, I
sneaked behind the tent after I was
sure I didn't hear scratching or
rustling or snorting. But, I bravely
marched to the central pavilion in the
morning. As long as I could wash my
hair in a nice clean shower with hot
running water then, I thought, we
were having a marvellous time.
Later on in the week, we were
shown an empty field in which to
pitch our tent. This is called a "camp
overflow area." This is great, I
thought, since we were right beside
the lake and could hear the pounding
of the water and watch the fireworks
on the pier and no one would notice if
we were au naturel. In the morning,
when I went for my shower, there was
none to be found, not even the end of
a hose. And the day before, I'd
thought I was hard done by when the
water from the shower tap was cold!
In the washroom, the toilet paper was
a yellow, wet mass in the corner.
Fortunately, I had Teamed to carry a
large wad of klecnex in my pocket at
all times. I was tempted to wash in the
lake but the cold water pounded the
rocks in an uninviting fashion. Oh
well, I thought, I'll have a shower
when we stop tonight.
"Yes, we have available sites," I
heard that night, "too bad you aren't
going to stay longer or I would cut the
grass." Since it was getting late and it
was a holiday weekend, we stayed.
Rather than have grass — er, weeds —
around our knees we chose a spot
where the vegetation was beaten down
a bit.
Most people had far more gear than
we had, and I marvelled at their fold-
ing chairs and screened dining rooms
and shiny assortment of containers,
but by the end of the trip, packing and
unpacking, I concluded we had far too
much gear and way too much food sit-
ting in several inches of water in the
bottom of the cooler.
When I returned home, I regaled my
family with news of what a wonderful
time I had. "I fried banana pancakes
near the Plains of Abraham," I said.
My mother turned up her nose: "I
always had a cottage."
My aunt snorted: "I was camping
once and never would again."
My daughter, a veteran camper,
laughed: "If they didn't have showers,
I wouldn't go."
No matter what they say, I still like
camping. I like to hear the pound of
the lake all night long, feel the breeze
through the tent when the flaps are up,
and listen to the birds make their
morning call.
If I have to make coffee in the rain
and it takes twice as long or have to
go looking for a shower and find it is
missing and you have to listen to me
complain, pay no attention. Pack the
tent and the sleeping bag anyway.
Buy scented candles, toilet paper, and
wet wipes. Next vacation, we're going
camping.
DAraIng Out?
Check the
dining listings
in Townsman
before your decide
TOWNSMAN/JULY-AUGUST 1991 29