Dear George,
We only had a little time left before the start of Autumn quarter classes and still hadn’t taken a summer vacation. I suggested to Katja that my favorite choices were a Florida beach or a camping road trip up the Lake Michigan coast. Florida was an unlikely choice because of hurricane rumblings in the Caribbean, and Katja reminded me for the fifth or sixth time that she doesn’t do camping any more. I thought about going camping by myself but had mixed feelings. Katja suggested gently that maybe it was time for me to give up the camping part of my life. That seemed to trigger a decision. Twenty minutes later I was lugging my gear up from the basement, getting ready for a trip to my favorite Southwestern Ohio park. Here are a few anecdotes from my camping diary.
Fiscal Awakenings
What? $35 a night? For a campsite? That’s more than we used to pay at the Red Roof Inn.
Setting Up
It was hot at the campground. Close to ninety. I’d brought my six-person Gander Mountain tent ($2.50 at the thrift store) and my 10x12 foot screen house ($6 at CVS at their 90% off summer clearance sale). There’s a lot of unaccustomed physical labor to putting up a tent. Bending, lifting, pushing, pulling, pounding. After 45 minutes I was sweating profusely but my stalwart tent was finally up and looking good. Unfortunately the screen house proved even more troublesome. Every time I put up a pole at one corner, all the rest of it fell down. After five or six collapses, I managed to arrange a network of bungee cords that held the whole thing together. Experienced campers, as you know, are scornful of screen houses, but I wanted to get a return on my investment. I turned it into my personal den where I solved Suduko puzzles, read chapters from E.B. White, drank Merlot wine, wrote in my camping diary, and contemplated the vagaries of nature.
Working Out in the Forest
Our park has the best forest trails. Since I was last there they have added a series of Par Cours exercise stations so that hikers can combine a workout with their hike. The first station was called “Hand Walking”. There were two five-foot-long parallel bars, about chest-high. The challenge is to step up on a platform at one end, grip the bars with both hands, let your body hang down toward the ground, and then “walk” with your hands to the opposite end. Something like gymnasts might do at the Olympics. I stepped up, gripped the bars, let my body hang down, and immediately plummeted to the ground. That was it for hand walking for me. I think it’s meant for stringy youth who weigh eighty pounds or less. Forests aren’t gyms anyway.
Cuisine
All my meals were full of surprises. At home my specialty is microwaving Lean Cuisines, so camp cooking expands my repertoire. Breakfast was my forte: French toast — burnt black on one side, soggy on the other; char-fried Indiana bulk bacon; canned fruit cocktail; instant coffee; and a cup of nutrition-free Sunkist Diet Orange Drink (a tasty orange juice substitute).
Beasts in the Night
Campfires are the perfect way to end to the day. When it turned dark at 8 p.m., I lit my fire and settled back in my camp chair. After an hour I called Katja on my cell phone. I told her it was kind of scary. The campground was deserted and it was pitch black except for my fire. Just as I said that I heard a growling noise. I looked to my right, and there were two raccoons staring at me, about thirty feet away. Startled, I screamed, “Get out of here! Get out of here!” They did scurry off. Katja, nervous on the other end of the line, said raccoons can be rabid and that I should get in the car immediately and lock the doors. Just then another raccoon appeared from behind my picnic table. “Get away! Get away!” I screamed. Shortly afterward I retreated to my tent, leaving the campfire and my worldly possessions to the raccoons.
Plenty of Sleep
I have five or six air mattresses stored in our attic. I brought along the one that has a handwritten tag on it that says, “Best available but goes flat.” That proved to be an accurate description. Since I lay motionless in my sleeping bag from nine p.m. to nine a.m., I did get at least six hours of sleep per night.
Exit Encounter
On the last morning I got up late, had a leisurely breakfast, and began breaking camp and packing up my gear. Checkout time was twelve noon, and it soon became clear I wasn’t going to make the deadline. It made my nervous because I knew from past trips that park rangers make their rounds shortly after noon. I worried about being late and maybe even charged for an extra day. I finally had everything in the car at 12:50 p.m., but just as I started to pull out of my campsite the park ranger’s car drove up. I stopped, hoping he would go by, but he stopped too and got out of his car. This is how our conversation went:
Ranger: Just arriving, are you?
Me: Oh no. No, I’m just leaving.
Ranger: Just leaving? Are you o.k. then?
Me: Oh yes, I’m o.k. I’m just really hot from packing up my gear.
Ranger: (inaudible)
Me: I’m sorry, I don’t hear well.
Ranger (repeating himself): Did you have a tent then?
Me: Oh yes, I had a tent. I just took it down.
Ranger: Oh. And you’re sure you’re o.k.?
Me: Oh, yes. I’m just fine. I know I’m late getting out. I’m sorry for that. I overslept.
Ranger: Oh, that’s all right. I just wanted to make sure you were o.k.
Me: I appreciate that. I am definitely o.k. Thank you, sir.
Ranger: And you have a good weekend then.
Me: Thank you. You too.
I was relieved to escape without any further interrogation, but the whole encounter was unnerving. Perhaps the ranger was suspicious because of my nervousness. Or maybe he is not used to seeing elderly husbands camping by themselves. He might have thought I was one of those old guys that are listed as “Missing Adults” on the digital billboards over the expressway. I’d been planning to stop for a Dairy Queen sundae, but instead I made my way back to home and civilization.
Postscript
Overall, I had a good time. Not everything went perfectly, but that’s why they call it “roughing it”. It’s such a dramatic change from my everyday urban world. Trees and flowers and squirrels instead of restaurants and baby carriages and fire engines. I grew up in the woods, and I’m always nostalgic about returning. When I was twelve years old camping offered a sturdy sense of independence, self-sufficiency, and mastery. The same holds true nowadays.
Love,
Dave 
As a dyed in the wool despiser of camping, I found this story interesting and amusing. Good for you for following your bliss.
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