I'm sitting quietly, looking out the back window of my camper at the river and misty hills on the opposite side. In the gentle, but steady rain everything seems more calm. The rain freshens the air and along with the newly cut grass around the camp-site, the aroma is like heaven compared to the scent of the wet family dog and wet clothes and socks strewn about the camper. Since it's my first time camping in several years, I am quickly reminded of many of the ups and downs of such a recreational activity.
First, was the parking and unloading of the new camper which ended with the total destruction of my pickup tail-gate. Details of that may be given in person with the right amount of liquid bribery. But, I'm in no mood to publish it at this time. Next was the amazement of how I was able to get most all the features to work on the rig without a terrible amount of taking the lord's name in vain. I still need to figure out how the TV antenna works, but that's a job for a 10 year-old kid to teach me at a later time.
Whether the weather is sunny or rainy, eating is apparently the main fixation of camping. Three large meals a day with adequate snacks in between have kept me properly nourished and ready for naps at a moment's notice. I'm not sure if it's the wet weather or what, but my shirts have all shrunk at least one size in just a few days. I'll work that out later, but for now, pass the cheese dip and Doritos please.
My sister and brother-in-law have one of those permanent campsites a few miles away. I'm not sure when that phenomenon began, but apparently half of east river buy campers and pull them to the "camper-town" above the mighty Missouri river.
Once there, a deck and awning are built, trees are planted, sewer system is installed and presto, a home away from home. Many of the residents travel almost weekly to spend time with their family and friends from over a hundred miles away. The same ones they see almost weekly at home. Ya, I don't get it either. Different strokes and all I guess.
I was invited to my sisters for a camp fire. Shortly before sundown, I ventured her way in the pickup, dodging deer and horses like a seasoned professional. I almost missed a couple of them.
Once there, the fire was started and around 10 people began to enjoy the quiet and beauty of the sunset and good company. After a few libations were served and the sky darkened, the campfire began to blaze higher and higher. My brother-in-law who is a natural pyrotechnician was expertly moving logs around the fire-pit and adding certain sized ones to certain areas for maximum effect. The radiant heat of the blaze was warming our faces pleasantly.
One of the guys there who was quite a bit taller than the rest had been using the landscaping bricks that protect the inner ring of the fire-pit like an ottoman. Not long before I was ready to leave, another fella said to him, "Hey Rick, you might want move your feet off there. Your shoe looks funny like it's glowing or something" He pulled his foot back from the pit and the bottom of his shoe had indeed gotten a little too warm. There was a large white bubble on his tennis shoe that at first appeared to be a baseball sized roasted marshmallow, but was actually rubber from the shoe burning into a bubble. We had a good laugh and thankfully, he wasn't permanently injured.
My own campsite with its gorgeous view has provided some much needed rest and self-reflection. Getting here proved to be far less work in preparations than I had thought. I'm also a terrible liar.
If I can figure out the right amount and type of food to bring and the right household supplies to have in the camper, I may just find this camping thing worth doing every now and then. Until then I'll keep washing the dishes with hand-soap, walking 200 yards to shower hoping someone left some shampoo in the stall, and sleeping on a mattress built by the lowest bidder.
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