I love camping.
Back in “those days” when the girls were little, I considered camping to be an solitary adventure in that you don’t share the experience with hundreds of strangers each in their squared off area of a couple hundred feet. No, I didn’t want to pay for camping, either.
I would pack my car, and take my daughters up to the mountains, drive down some snowmobile trail until we’d find a lake or pond to call our own for a few nights. We’d pitch the tent and spend most of the day playing in the murky waters of some random lake. And cooking over an open campfire is the only way we ate. My daughters became the Queens of starting fires and did a fine job first thing in the morning. Even at a tender age they knew Mom had to have her coffee. Nothing tastes as good as percolated camping coffee.
Two incidents lead to camping with the masses.
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| Camp food is the best |
One year, we were camping at our newest favorite lake named Island. We were prepared to be there for five days what felt like an extended vacation. As usual we floated in the lake most of the day. Descending out of the large pond of murky water (calling it a lake seems awful kind) bees swarmed us. Not just the usual annoying amount of bees, but horror movie amounts. We had to leave. The girls and I were packing the car in lighting fast speeds and as I bend down (in my swim suit) a bee got me on the butt. I screamed and hollered like a crazy woman and directed the girls to pull the stringer out. They would not have any part of touching Mom’s butt much less pull the stringer out. I would like to report that was the worst part of leaving the camp site but it wasn’t. Have you’ve ever driven a hundred miles with a bee stung butt?? Let me tell you, it hurts like crazy and sitting on it only aggregates the pain.
The second incident, the following camping experience we went back to Island Lake. Someone had already claimed our spot. Not to worry, we found another small lake (large pond) and pitched our tent. The girls, as usual were out in the water, floating while I sat in my beach chair, book in hand feet in the water when a State Trooper came by. He asked if the girls had life vests on. Why no. He asked if I was camping with someone else. Why no. He asked if I was camping alone with two girls. Why yes. He asked if I had a weapon or any way to defend myself. Why no. He offered to “check up on me.” That pretty much did it in for me. If a State Trooper seemed concerned I was camping maybe he knew something I didn’t and we promptly took down the tent and left. We didn’t’ even spend one night.
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| Front Porch of the cabin |
Now I am a huge, gigantic fan of Oregon State Parks and I no longer tent camp. I used to love camping in Yurts. Super cool and no pitching tents required. The yurts have a futon, table with chairs, bed to sleep on and a heater. Best of all, electric. Such a novel idea for camping. Electricity. Think of the possibilities. Radio, TV’s, electric skillets.
And then I discovered deluxe cabins. The cabins are equipped with a bathroom, a mini-kitchen, bedroom and luxuries such as a TV, microwave and a propane grill.
Camping will never be the same.
Since we have discovered the cabins, I haven’t had the pleasure of being checked upon by a State Trooper, no bee stings in the butt, no driving down snowmobile trails looking for a place to pitch a tent.
And fondue. Camping with electricity means making fondue for lunch. My new favorite camping food.
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| Fondue & Camping. Life is good! |
Prost.
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