This weekend we visited some friends at their campsite for supper. It started to rain as we left the house and rained all night. Sooo...? Well, I've come to believe that we control the weather when it involves campsites. We have never, NEVER gone camping that it hasn't rained or snowed. Which reminded me of a trip we took a couple of years ago...
As I wrote then....
We tried to go camping this weekend. The ideal was FAR from the dream.
The DREAM:
You pack everything. It fits nicely in the Jeep. One dog is farmed out to a friend so there's only one to deal with. You leave, stop for a few groceries, find the perfect campsite, take a short hike in the cool mountain air, marvel at the wildlife, start a brisk fire, fix a drink, sit in your lawn chair while you roast hot dogs over the fire, then top it off with Smores, another drink, climb pleasantly exhausted into your sleeping bag, wake up refreshed, eat a pleasantly smoky breakfast, take another hike or two, pack, check out the beautiful scenery on the way home,unpack and bask in the glow of a relaxing weekend.
The REALITY:
You take the non-going dog (Clyde) to a friend where he promptly bites her friendly, loveable St. Bernard. For some unknown reason she still agrees to keep him.
You forget 1. a blanket 2. enough towels 3. long sleeve shirts 4. and, heaven help us-the BOOZE.
Everything fits in the Jeep except Abby, who at 20" long has to decide which end is going to be on the ground. To solve the problem she stands between us looking out the front window and blowing bulldog snot. In her excitement of getting to go....she forgets to go. She remembers at a stop for our breakfast. Now prissy can't sit because 'ewww, it's all wet and icky!'. We change out her towels for ours and head out again.
It starts to rain at the Wyoming border. Headed for the Snowy Range, we turn left at Laramie, miss the turn for Wyo. 130 and wind up on Wyo. 230. Whatever. Turn around, find the cutoff. We're still speaking to each other at this point.
We stop in Centennial, WY, population 100 (on a good day), elevation 8608. Still raining.
Get hotdogs, mustard, relish, bacon. Stop at a closed information office, then stop at a second closed information office. A map on the wall lets us decide which road we want. Drizzling.
We turn right on NF 101. Beautiful country! The wild flowers are in full bloom, the trees have bright yellow-green growth and the sky is a lovely murky grey. At 9500' we find a campsite that looks good. It sits about 50' away from a little stream the wanders through the meadow next to an open field where the deer and elk play (according to the tracks). It's raining and 40 deg.
We set up the tent, tie Abby to a tree for a few minutes. Start a small fire just to make sure one will start. She whines to get back in the Jeep. Not a camping dog apparently. We put her in the Jeep, she's shivering and her feet are muddy. It's raining in earnest now.
Tough guys that we are, we take a hike, in the rain, on Rock Creek trail. The trail winds along Rock Creek through quiet fir stands. Wildflowers are nodding in the rain-which is getting heavier by the minute. The trail is ankle deep in water, presumably running downhill to Rock Creek. It's beautiful but I don't hear much except the plick/plick of rain on my 'water-resistant' (note the word 'resistant') jacket.
We pick up some dead, sort of dry, wood to start a roaring fire when we return. Abby refuses to get out of the Jeep. At this point, the dog is definitely smarter than we are. There's water in the tent. We move it. We're soaked and change clothes. The rain has let up just a little and mosquitoes the size of wrens show up. The wind starts to blow so the mosquitoes are gone but now we're wet AND cold. After using all our starter wood and the wood we found...the fire won't stay lit. No one wants to be the one to say 'Uncle!'.
Someone finally gives, we accept defeat, hurriedly repack every wet thing with the shivering dog. There's less space since the packing was rushed. She's wadded up in a ball trying to stay warm. We slip and slide down the clay road to the paved road, stop in Laramie for a pizza, drive home where it's dry, warm, raining OUTSIDE and there's booze.
We'll try again soon.
As I wrote then....
We tried to go camping this weekend. The ideal was FAR from the dream.
The DREAM:
You pack everything. It fits nicely in the Jeep. One dog is farmed out to a friend so there's only one to deal with. You leave, stop for a few groceries, find the perfect campsite, take a short hike in the cool mountain air, marvel at the wildlife, start a brisk fire, fix a drink, sit in your lawn chair while you roast hot dogs over the fire, then top it off with Smores, another drink, climb pleasantly exhausted into your sleeping bag, wake up refreshed, eat a pleasantly smoky breakfast, take another hike or two, pack, check out the beautiful scenery on the way home,unpack and bask in the glow of a relaxing weekend.
The REALITY:
You take the non-going dog (Clyde) to a friend where he promptly bites her friendly, loveable St. Bernard. For some unknown reason she still agrees to keep him.
You forget 1. a blanket 2. enough towels 3. long sleeve shirts 4. and, heaven help us-the BOOZE.
Everything fits in the Jeep except Abby, who at 20" long has to decide which end is going to be on the ground. To solve the problem she stands between us looking out the front window and blowing bulldog snot. In her excitement of getting to go....she forgets to go. She remembers at a stop for our breakfast. Now prissy can't sit because 'ewww, it's all wet and icky!'. We change out her towels for ours and head out again.
It starts to rain at the Wyoming border. Headed for the Snowy Range, we turn left at Laramie, miss the turn for Wyo. 130 and wind up on Wyo. 230. Whatever. Turn around, find the cutoff. We're still speaking to each other at this point.
We stop in Centennial, WY, population 100 (on a good day), elevation 8608. Still raining.
Get hotdogs, mustard, relish, bacon. Stop at a closed information office, then stop at a second closed information office. A map on the wall lets us decide which road we want. Drizzling.
We turn right on NF 101. Beautiful country! The wild flowers are in full bloom, the trees have bright yellow-green growth and the sky is a lovely murky grey. At 9500' we find a campsite that looks good. It sits about 50' away from a little stream the wanders through the meadow next to an open field where the deer and elk play (according to the tracks). It's raining and 40 deg.
We set up the tent, tie Abby to a tree for a few minutes. Start a small fire just to make sure one will start. She whines to get back in the Jeep. Not a camping dog apparently. We put her in the Jeep, she's shivering and her feet are muddy. It's raining in earnest now.
Tough guys that we are, we take a hike, in the rain, on Rock Creek trail. The trail winds along Rock Creek through quiet fir stands. Wildflowers are nodding in the rain-which is getting heavier by the minute. The trail is ankle deep in water, presumably running downhill to Rock Creek. It's beautiful but I don't hear much except the plick/plick of rain on my 'water-resistant' (note the word 'resistant') jacket.
We pick up some dead, sort of dry, wood to start a roaring fire when we return. Abby refuses to get out of the Jeep. At this point, the dog is definitely smarter than we are. There's water in the tent. We move it. We're soaked and change clothes. The rain has let up just a little and mosquitoes the size of wrens show up. The wind starts to blow so the mosquitoes are gone but now we're wet AND cold. After using all our starter wood and the wood we found...the fire won't stay lit. No one wants to be the one to say 'Uncle!'.
Someone finally gives, we accept defeat, hurriedly repack every wet thing with the shivering dog. There's less space since the packing was rushed. She's wadded up in a ball trying to stay warm. We slip and slide down the clay road to the paved road, stop in Laramie for a pizza, drive home where it's dry, warm, raining OUTSIDE and there's booze.
We'll try again soon.
You should start a business going to drought ridden areas! Make a nice show of it... a little dance, a song, throw some spices into the fire and let it rain!
ReplyDeleteHmmm. Sounds like a good idea, cain't sing though. Maybe a tambourine?
ReplyDelete