Any camping experiences you care to share?

[Jules]

The first summer after my divorce, I bought a new tent. They weren’t fancy back then. Before leaving for the first trip, I laid it all out, analyzed the setup and replaced the pegs with spikes. Took the 2 DDs to a popular historical town. Laid out the tent, got it up and realized I’d left the small cap at home. Some fellow campers took pity and found a tarp to help us out.

I had a fire going and younger DD backed up to warm her derrière. I grabbed her just in time. She was wearing a long nightie that would have acted like a chimney.

The man in the next campsite snored louder than a freight train. We all woke up in the night and started giggling.

Then another camping trip with friends. We were experiencing the downpour from a tornado that had passed nearby. I kept pulling my body away from the puddle at my feet. Instead I was moving against the tent and the rain was pouring through.

Most camping trips were really good. I was more than content to switch to an RV later on.

 

[Bella]

Any camping experiences you care to share?

Sorry, Bobcat, I'm too tired to type anymore tonight. I'm ready to pack it in after I talk to Ruthie for a few minutes. This is the best I can do right now. Here's a previous post I made about camping.

Question for @Bella

 

[Teacher Terry]

After I moved to Reno camping was so much better because the mountains, trails and lakes are so beautiful. Eventually we graduated to a used motor home at age 53 because tent camping became uncomfortable. We had an entire group we camped with and had so many great times. You also don’t get as dirty having a RV).

 

[bobcat]

Hunkering down in a tent and listening to a tornado pass over (it did a lot of damage less than 3 blocks away). Yes, they DO sound like freight trains.

Another time, trying to anchor down the cooler, so that the raccoons couldn't get into it, I put a heavy wooden box that we kept all the gear in on top, then the cook stove, then another heavy wooden box that the lanterns were kept in, and at least a couple of other heavy things.

In the middle of the night, I heard a loud crash, grabbed a flashlight and looked out. A teeny, tiny little raccoon (that's what we have in Florida, not like the big guys up north) had patiently pushed the whole conglomeration off the table and was helping himself to the contents. He had one egg in his mouth, one in each paw and one under each armpit and was waddling off into the woods. I let him go. No use arguing with a raccoon.....you won't win.

Our dog was very upset, so I zipped her into my sleeping bag with me. She proceeded to have one of her epileptic attacks and peed all over me. My daughter, who was 9-ish at the time, got sick and ralphed all over the tent. It was a loooong night and we went home the next morning.

Your story reminded me of one camping trip that I had with one of those masked bandits as well. I was unloading the truck, and had just taken one box of groceries over near the tent, and went back for some other things.

Out of nowhere, a raccoon spots the groceries, runs over, grabs a full loaf of bread, and beats feet for the woods. I had just turned around and saw what was happening, so I dropped what I was carrying, gave chase, yelling like a madman, and the raccoon was unfazed. He disappeared into the thick brush with the sack of bread in his teeth, never to be seen again. Needless to say, there were no sandwiches for us on that trip. They are cagey little bastages.

 

[bobcat]

Sorry, Bobcat, I'm too tired to type anymore tonight. I'm ready to pack it in after I talk to Ruthie for a few minutes. This is the best I can do right now. Here's a previous post I made about camping.

Question for @Bella

Very nice memories with your Mom & Dad camping. It seems like they were really into it with your dad fishing and all.
Also, I know what you mean about being at the coast. I have spent a great deal of time there fishing and just enjoying the full experience, and I absolutely love it.

Here's a tidbit I wrote about Bodega head where I used to fish when I lived in Petaluma.

BODEGA HEAD
As I approach the cliffs to begin my descent, I pause for moments to capture the view. The place I stand is at a point where the rugged coastline comes to an abrupt end, and the cool Pacific waters search their way inland to form the serene Bodega Bay, which serves as a haven for fishing boats and pleasure seekers as well.

The mist on my face feels refreshing, and through the fog that has wandered inland and contests the sun, I gaze at the seemingly endless dimension of water merging with the horizon. I can hear the foghorn on the jetty bleating out it's monotone warnings as it spews out beams of light to validate it's location. Weathered fishing boats with tactical arrays of rigging extending skyward, gurgle their way around the point, bound for open waters.

Perhaps because it has matched my expectations, the familiar sound of the surf assaulting the rocks below had gone unnoticed until now. The intensity is one signaling that of incoming tide and it beckons me down the steep slopes strewn with outcroppings of tiny shrubs. I start down, sometimes finding footholds and at others wishing for them, and in a short time I conclude the descent by planting foot on solid bedrock patiently sculptured by the relentless hand of the sea.

Each stimulus is very pronounced now, and the recipe of saltwater, kelp, and countless secret ingredients waft through the air. Plumes of water are catapulted skyward as surge after surge is hurled against the rocks, composing an ominous warning of the force at hand. As each heap of water is crushed, I sense the echo throughout my body in surges of adrenalin, and every nerve is awakened. My total attention is demanded by this determined, unyielding armament, and I stand entranced as each billow aggressively mounts the granite blocking it's path.

Moments pass as exuberance gives way to awe and I settle into my surroundings, wondering at it all. I feel a sense of freedom sweep over me as I close my eyes and set my spirit free. What is it about this place that brings such exhilaration, such feeling of being alive, as if I am embracing nature itself? It seems as if this extraordinary, unharnessed force is communing with me and freely giving to me the spirit that drives it. I open my eyes and envelop the grandeur of it all.

Time and recent reality are powerless now, and I am captain of a fine sloop on the high seas with the wind and mist in my face. Visions come and go. I make friends with the euphoria, and the sensation is one of ballroom dancing and freefalling. Reservoirs in my soul are being renewed and I begin to feel like a well-watered garden soaking in the vital ingredients.

Suddenly from somewhere in my visionary trek, I am induced back to reality by a hollow barking sound off to my left and a short distance away. Turning to seek out the intruder, I recognize the limpid, solemn eyes and globular nose belonging to a seal, small in stature, bobbing rhythmically amid the waves. Undisturbed by my presence, he resolutely resumes his waltz with the sea, skillfully, smoothly, gracefully frolicking as if the audience was on it's feet. Shortly, he seems to recall the reason for his travel, and is off again with the speed and agility that removes all doubt that he is a master of the expanse.

Reaching down into the brown paper bag at my side, I fumble for familiar shapes for lunch, as the sun searches for holes in the nebulous vapor. Gulls begin to light at a distance, dressed in their tuxedos, looking very sedate and preened. They keep a watchful eye, and appear unwilling to discuss the purpose of their visit.

The tone of the waves seem quieter now as if they have satisfied their claim to dominancy, and the kelp settles into a more gentle sway. The landscape appears somewhat smaller than before, with pieces missing, as the sea's life-giving flow refuels the crustaceous nests.

There is a calmness in my soul now as if there has been a merging of identities, and I am no longer a spectator, but a redeemed fragment of the pageant that has been unfolding. Could it be that my being here is no arbitrary decision; was there a purpose, a design? I do know the thirst is quenched for now. Nevertheless, it will return, as even though I must leave, a part of me stays. Quietly rising to my feet, I breathe in a memory of salty perfume, and marvel at the splendor and magic that happens here.

Turning to leave, I make my way up the familiar slope with heart in tow, wondering how many others have ventured here, and what it must have been like for them. As I near the top, I hear the diminished whisper of the waves bidding me farewell and an invitation to revisit when the need arises.



This pic was at Morrow Bay, but I loved anywhere on the coast. (Beard was a bit darker then)

 

[Bella]

WOW! I don't remember the last time I've read something that's been written so well; that was impressive to read. You have a fundamental understanding of nature. I love the way you described the plumes of water and the encounter with the seal. You have a way with words, Bobcat; you put me in the moment. That was beautiful!

 

[bobcat]

WOW! I don't remember the last time I've read something that's been written so well; that was impressive to read. You have a fundamental understanding of nature. I love the way you described the plumes of water and the encounter with the seal. You have a way with words, Bobcat; you put me in the moment. That was beautiful!

Thank you Bella. I always loved being there, and I always hated to leave. There is something about it that's just surreal and captivating. I tried to put it into descriptive words, but it's never like being there.

 

[Mr. Ed]

When I was much younger I met a girl camping at the same as my family, the girl and I got lost on the Appalachian Trail.

 

[Supernatural]

Ahhh, huddled around the campfire laughing and telling stories.
The smell of the pines
Looking out over a placid lake with majestic mountains in the background
Going for a hike in the fresh air
Fishing at daybreak
What's not to love? Hmmmm?

I did very often with grandpa and papa. Usually catfish weekends. I learned to cook the bestest omelette during those away days. I make it to this day. It is a favourite.

I did catch a huge fish with Papa's rod which won him a trophy . It was in his name as he was the fishing licence holder. LOL!

We made smores on the small fire. We weren't allowed big ones back then and we cooked on the Coleman stove mostly.

Grandpa didn't like using rod and reel, he had a system of ropes with weights plus bells. These were so long, they reached the other shore when he threw them in. On each knots he had a hook with bait.

Nighttime fishing and daybreak were the times we got the biggest catch.

After grandpa died, we still went, just me and papa, but it wasn't as much fun as grandpa was the best camping storyteller to scare the beejesus out of us.

Finally, papa and I had planned our first ice fishing for smelts in February 1974. Unfortunately, papa died Valentine's day that year.

Later on as part of a majorette and drum corps over three years, we travelled extensively and camped a lot. Nights are freezing in some places an sleeping against tent walls can be unpleasant.

The same happened to hubby and I when in early June, we camped in Niagara Falls Region. The last night of our week's holiday was spend at a hotel room, with the heating on.

Fun times that are missed...

 

[Knight]

Nothing weird or uncomfortable, two memorable incidents.

1. At KOA campground in Kissimmee, Florida my wife got up to use the bathroom in the camp ground. She didn't because on her way to it there was the biggest rat she had ever seen. She woke me to tell me that we had to leave right then. I explained that Armadillos are not rats.

2. On another trip back from touring the west we stopped at a campground in Ohio. Our sons wanted to go horseback riding. My wife not a fan horse back riding went anyway. The horses not energetic were doing a slow walk on the trails. BUT on the way back when we were close to the end, the horse my wife had broke into a run. Once we were all back, my wife still shaking with fear. My youngest son trying to calm my wife said. You are lucky mom you got the fast horse.

 

[chic]

When I was much younger I met a girl camping at the same as my family, the girl and I got lost on the Appalachian Trail.

What happened? Was it fun or scary? Where on the Appalachian trail did you get lost? It extends from Maine to Florida doesn't it? That's a lot of territory.

 

[bobcat]

I did very often with grandpa and papa. Usually catfish weekends. I learned to cook the bestest omelette during those away days. I make it to this day. It is a favourite.

I did catch a huge fish with Papa's rod which won him a trophy . It was in his name as he was the fishing licence holder. LOL!

We made smores on the small fire. We weren't allowed big ones back then and we cooked on the Coleman stove mostly.

Grandpa didn't like using rod and reel, he had a system of ropes with weights plus bells. These were so long, they reached the other shore when he threw them in. On each knots he had a hook with bait.

Nighttime fishing and daybreak were the times we got the biggest catch.

After grandpa died, we still went, just me and papa, but it wasn't as much fun as grandpa was the best camping storyteller to scare the beejesus out of us.

Finally, papa and I had planned our first ice fishing for smelts in February 1974. Unfortunately, papa died Valentine's day that year.

Later on as part of a majorette and drum corps over three years, we travelled extensively and camped a lot. Nights are freezing in some places an sleeping against tent walls can be unpleasant.

The same happened to hubby and I when in early June, we camped in Niagara Falls Region. The last night of our week's holiday was spend at a hotel room, with the heating on.

Fun times that are missed...

Those are such great memories, and thanks for sharing them. So many things in life that we do just seem to fade into oblivion, but times like the ones you've described are ones you remember forever. I feel sad that you didn't get to do the ice fishing trip with your papa before he passed, but maybe you can just close your eyes and imagine it happening, catching all the fish, seeing the joy and pride in his face with having his daughter there to bond with and enjoy. He sounds like a wonderful man.

 

[jujube]

What happened? Was it fun or scary? Where on the Appalachian trail did you get lost? It extends from Maine to Florida doesn't it? That's a lot of territory.

Maine to Georgia (Amicalola Falls State Park, to be exact). I've "cross-hiked" the AT several times.......hardest three feet I've ever done....LOL.

If you want to read a funny book about hiking the AT, get "A Walk in the Woods" by Bill Bryson. It was also made into a movie starring Robert Redford and Nick Nolte.

 

[bobcat]

Maine to Georgia (Amicalola Falls State Park, to be exact). I've "cross-hiked" the AT several times.......hardest three feet I've ever done....LOL.

If you want to read a funny book about hiking the AT, get "A Walk in the Woods" by Bill Bryson. It was also made into a movie starring Robert Redford and Nick Nolte.

Great book and movie.