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We went camping for the first time last weekend. It was hot as the devil's armpit (sticky and sweaty too) but we had a wonderful time. We didn't go far, just to a state park an hour south of home, but it was far enough to relax for a bit and enjoy the outdoors.
The Subaru was laden down with B's canoe, our bikes, fishing stuff, and all the requisite gear - earning it the new name of The Adventure-Mobile. We got to use our tent for the first time (camping in the in-law's front yard doesn't count) and I got a new sleeping bag, which unfortunately is nylon inside and out. I wouldn't mind normally, but it was so hot and sticky and sweaty that I wound up glued to the thing. Add to that a sadly deflated air pad, and sleeping was kind of uncomfortable - but not so much that it affected the fun of getting away from home for a couple of days.
It might sound weird, but I think my favorite part was planning the trip. It made me think so much of my dad, and how ridiculously organized he was about camping. He had multiple lists, special Rubbermaid camp boxes that stayed packed with essential items, and gear suitable for van camping, tenting, or RVing. It was truly an artform, so I had that standard in my head while planning our trip. I forgot a couple of things (ziplock bags and anti-histamine lotion), purposefully left out others (corned beef hash, bleah!), and added a couple of our own touches (fresh garden tomatoes and potatoes). We had to buy a few pieces of necessary gear (a percolator, some dollar-store utensils for campfire cooking) and added a few more pieces to our list for next time (a dutch oven, a new foam sleeping pad).
The key part of any trip with Dad was the fishing. He had the aluminum Nymph rowboat, the 'peapod' black vinyl folding rowboat, float tubes, and the Boston Whaler for bigger lakes. He had multiple flyrods and spinners. He used a depth-finder sometimes, and had a detailed atlas and mental list of lakes, what fish they held, and what the best fly was. And he rarely got skunked, or at least that's how it seemed. How could he, after all?
We're getting there. We have the canoe, which I'm getting used to the balance of and learning how to paddle. B has a flyrod and a good spinner, and he bought me my own spinner this summer and promises me a flyrod soon too. My regret is that I'm just now learning how to enjoy it - the quieter campsites, the lakes with no-motor regulations, the repetitive, relaxing solitude of fishing - I didn't fully appreciate it when Dad was around, and it makes me sad that I missed those chances. But it makes me that much happier to be doing it now.
Dad, Mom, and Romeo at Big Meadow Lake.
