Camping

 

   "So why didn't you plan a campin' trip with me?  Huh?"  I asked Matt, with  eyebrows raised.

     "You'd wanna go?"

     "Of course!"

     He looked at me like I had just said "Let's scrub all the toilets in the church for fun."

     "No really, I would," I said.

     "Well o.k.  Let's go then!" Matt said smiling.

     After a quick check of our schedules (he's only home for two weeks) it was clear we didn't have much open space. We settled for Tuesday, leaving after the Junior High's Registration (at 7am) and returning on Wednesday (at 11:45) for Matt's dentist appointment.

     Yes, not exactly a long camping trip.  Yet in some ways it might be a perfect first primitive camping experience for me.

     Then we ran into my brother-in-law, Shane, at the registration.  "Do you know how hot it's supposed to be today?" he asked. 

    "Yes, very!" I said, "but this is the only time we can go."

     "Seriously," he said.  "It's supposed to be 118 with the heat index.  That's gonna be miserable."

     Shane got me a little worried.  Should I cancel?  But there was no way to reschedule!  It was today or not at all.  But I hate sweating, I hate bugs, and this primitive camping trip would probably be full of both of them.

     Matt and I went.  We pulled into Pere Marquette State Park in quaint little Grafton, IL.  The ride down along the river was gorgeous.  We had the windows down and the praise music on.  This was the life.

     We quickly picked our camping spot, an adorable shady place alongside of a gorgeous um, oak, I mean elm, er gorgeous deciduous tree.  We quickly set up our tent.  It only took five minutes but in that short time I felt a continuous stream of sweat running between my shoulder blades and cling to the layer of fat around the back of my waist.

     I gotta get a sweat rag, I decided.  I quickly grabbed a t-shirt from my bag and wiped my forehead, back and belly with it.  Gross!

     "Ready to hike?" Matt asked.

     "Absolutely," I said. 

     Matt pulled out the map with all of the trails marked.  "Let's do the green trail," he said eyeing the map and leading the way.

     Thankfully I had grabbed my sweat rag and Matt had slipped it in his backpack along with three water canteens and granola bars.  I am disgusting. I looked down at my shorts, I literally had sweat lines on my shorts and tank top.  Now don't get me wrong, the lines did not mark the little area the sweat ran, the lines marked the miniscule area no sweat ran.

     As we walked around this little watering hole thing, I said, "Hey, why don't we jump in?"
     Matt looked at me like he used to when he was 8 and I said, "Time to take a bath."

     I laughed like I had only been kidding, but I really wanted to.  I figured clean water dripping down had to be better than sweaty water dripping down. 

     It soon became apparent that this was a difficult trail.  I don't even know if I'd call it a trail.  It was more like a training ground for Mount Everest.

     Matt, the leader, kept turning around, "You o.k. mom?"

     "A' course" I whispered hoarsely.

     "You need water?" he asked. 

     Do I need water?  Do I need water?  I've only sweatted one full gallon of water  and if I took off any of my clothes I could wring out another, but do I need water?

     "No, I can wait till we get to the top.  I think.  Is it almost here?"

     Matt looked at me a little worried like. 

     It reminded me of the time we took my grandparents to Disney and the look on our faces as we yelled, "It's here.  The tram's here.  Are you comin?'  And then the disappointment as my slow grandparents came shufflin' along just as the tram pulled away.

    "Matt, are you worrying about me?  I'm fine."

     "Then why are you breathing like a seal?  Here grab some more water," he said handing me a canteen.

     By the time Matt and I hiked the green trail and back to our campsite several hours had past.  We got our supplies out of the jeep and set up camp.  Just for the fun I turned on the jeep and checked the temp...104 degrees!

     No, I did not turn on the air and stay in the jeep, I was a primitive camper.  We collected our firewood for the night.  Matt played his backpack guitar.  We read. 

     Matt decided it was time to make our supper.  We had mac n cheese and tuna on top.  Then we built the fire.

     "Do we really need a fire?" I asked.  A stinkin' hot fire was the last thing I wanted to feel after a stinkin' hot day.

     "Oh yes, it'll help keep the bugs away," Matt said as he carefully positioned the twigs and newspaper.

     We decided to slide our tent a little closer because we could tell the bugs were coming out.  Sweat droplets formed on the sweat streams as I climbed into our tent.  Don't complain.  Don't complain, I told myself.  Matt has not complained once. 

     Well o.k., he did once. "Mom you are not hooking your camera on your belt loop.  That looks rediculous!"

     "Look at me," I said.  "Ya think a small camera'll make any difference?"  But I took it off anyhow.   Why spoil our adventure? 

     Matt climbed in and we quickly zipped up the tent.  As we lay in our little 2-man tent looking up we saw them.  No, not stars!  Tiny, buzzing mosquitoes gathering into the little peak in the middle.

     "Matt, I can't take those!  It's been a long day.  I'm hot.  I'm stinkin.  I'm not gettin' eatin' alive tonight.  I grabbed the flashlight.  I shined it towards the clump.

     "There!  Get 'em!"   I shouted, aiming the light from side to side.

     Matt half-heartedly flapped a hand against the tent top, scattering them, and killing none.

     "Matt, I'm serious.  I'm not going to sleep until we kill every mosquito.  There!  Use both hands.  YES!  Keep going!  There!  Over there!"

    After twenty minutes Matt decided he'd be the flashlight holder and I could be the mosquito crusher.  Ten minutes later we were dripping in sweat and there were still more mosquitoes.  Matt dropped the flashlight and grabbed the Off Spray.  Holding the nozzle up, he sprayed up into the peak of the tent.  Little particles of smelly, fumey Off came wafting down all over us.  Air...

    Coughing, I lunged for the door, unzippered it just enough to squeeze my head out and inhaled...hot, flamey, ashey, fire.

     I felt like crying.  I could take hot.  I could take stinky.  I could take sweaty.  I could take buggy.  But did I have to take NO AIR?!

     Recoiling from the heat, I pulled my sweaty, hot, disheveled, head back in, while quickly rezippering.

      "What were you expecting...an ocean breeze?" Matt asked with a smirk.

     I started laughing.  He smiled. 

     "I'm actually not sweating right now," he said in disbelief.

     I waited a second, "Well I am."

* Today Matt and his dad left for their 3-day camping trip.  It is 86 degrees.  I got a text that said, "We are in Kaintuck Hollow at Natural Bridge."  I'm really happy for them.  :)