The Camping Adventure
May 7, 2008 by sherriberean
I think I’m turning into my mother. She has never liked camping. The last time she went camping was when she was pregnant with me 40+ years ago. A black bear decided to cuddle up next to her to sleep that night. She never went back and has been a bear hater ever since. The older I get the less and less camping out appeals to me as a family fun activity. Camping season is almost here and…shhhh, don’t tell my family, I’m not looking forward to it.
I always thought I’d love camping and I have some good memories; I’m sure I do. I’ll think of some later. My first real camping experience was with my husband. We were newly married, both of us still in college, and we couldn’t even afford to buy a tent. Some friends offered to loan us one and some sleeping bags so that we could go on a group camp-out. We were told we didn’t even have to bring food. They said they would provide food for the whole group. There were nine of us in all.
So we set off on one bright and beautiful New Mexico morning and headed for the Gila Cliff Dwellings. We rode up there with a friend whose 1960s era VW van was leaking carbon monoxide into the back seat area. He was a recent college grad and had his first teaching job as a coach/social studies teacher. Why are coaches always social studies teachers? It seems like such a paradox.
Anyway, when we got there we set up camp. After that we were hungry. I guess the mountain air does that to you. With hearty anticipation we looked forward to dinner that night.
The friends who brought the food for the whole group started preparing the meal. Our hearts sank as we looked on. Our dinner consisted of a scanty pound of stew meat, a handful of potatoes, and carrots. Since there were nine of us, they divided it up into nine equal portions. Subsequently, we were each given a small foil pouch that consisted of about two small chunks of stew meat plus a slice or two each of potato and carrot. We were not happy campers at this point. We sat dejectedly staring at the campfire waiting for our 2×4 inch pouches to cook.
The sun started to go down and so did the temperature. Our stomachs were still growling after dinner. As a result a few of us decided we wouldn’t stay the scheduled two nights. We thought the starving college student scenario was being taken a bit too far. We didn’t think it unfair to eat our ration of tomorrow night’s dinner which was a bowl of chili. We felt a little better after heating up and eating our portions of approximately 2 ounces each of chili; that’s a quarter of a cup if you haven’t had a math refresher lately. One wise but stingy fellow had brought some snacks along for the trip. He refused to share with anybody. His survival instinct had really kicked into high gear that night. I don’t think he even shared with his wife. By this time, we were really kicking ourselves for not bringing snacks of our own.
It soon grew too cold to stay outside our tent so we turned in for the night. Besides our group, there was only one other camper who was out there that night. During the night it began to rain. It was terribly cold inside the tent even though we had our own sleeping bags in addition to the bags borrowed from our friends.
The friends who loaned us the bags were cat owners and I guess the cats napped on the bags before the trip. My husband was highly allergic to their cats and so during the night he began to wheeze. I had opted to leave my purse at home and it just so happened that his asthma medicine was in my purse. So he wheezed throughout the night and I held a private prayer vigil hoping that he wouldn’t die during the night since we were miles away from any medical services.
Sometime during the night while we lay there freezing and wheezing, we heard the other camper who was not part of our group start chunking his gear into the back of his truck. He made quite a commotion and was out of there in less than 20 minutes. He had brought two dogs along with him that he let run loose around the campground and he was shouting their names into the night as he drove off. I don’t know if he found them or not. We thought it a bit odd at the time.
As luck would have it I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I couldn’t talk my wheezing husband into tagging along with me, so I had to face the cold, black night alone. More importantly I had to face the fear of the bear story I had heard repeatedly throughout my childhood from my mom. Would a black bear want to cuddle with me on this cold dark night?
When I stepped out of the tent I was surprised to find that it had snowed. I guess that’s why the guy next to us had packed up and left. He probably had one of those handy dandy weather radios that warns campers of foul weather ahead of time. I crunched warily through the snow and then made it back safely to the tent without being mauled by a frostbitten bear.
In the morning we pushed the snow off the tent roof and packed up our wet sleeping bags. I had forgotten to zip the tent up at the bottom so the ends of our sleeping bags got wet. We had breakfast with our group of friends in the chilly morning air. We toured the cliff dwellings for a while and after that we left for home.
My husband promised me my next camping adventure would be better. I suppose it all depends on how you define “better camping adventure”.
