This summer, we camped. If I’m being honest, I’d probably rather do a fun hike or a picnic, and then come home and sleep in my own bed. I don’t mind so much sleeping in a tent. What I mind is packing the car with chairs, coolers, sleeping bags, and tents for seven people, and then coming home with the same stuff, only dirtier.
The first trip, I realized I really had no idea what I was doing (e.g. What do I need for washing dishes? Where are all of the flashlights? Wood or charcoal? Where to buy ice? ) and was a bit frantic. The place we were going closes their gate early in the evening, so there was a big rush to get there in time. Now our equipment is better organized, we’ve purchased a few helpful items and I’ve figured things out. Mostly.
That first trip, to a beautiful reserve called Yerba Loca, was lovely. Our second trip, with our friends the Hamiltons, was to a kind of dodgy campground where our neighbors kept us up the entire night. A learning experience.
Matt also took Sam on an overnight backpacking trip. They were un-deterred by rain, and therefore had the canyon pretty much to themselves. Matt said, “It was ok — when it started really coming down, we’d just stop and hold the tarp over our heads until it stopped.” So matter-of-fact! Sam loves to hike and is our least-complaining kid, so a perfect companion for Matt. He would have gone on and on, but Matt had put most of the heavy stuff in his own pack and was tired before they reached their goal — a glacier. Still, beautiful views.