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On Saturday night we drove with some friends over to Kickapoo State Park to do some run-away-from-home car camping. We were all really excited about this, as we all miss the opportunity the Southwest affords for easy outdoor recreation. I'm a little embarassed to say that I spent the better part of 2 days planning for this overnighter. Mostly this planning took the form of menu perfecting (which is about the only thing that went smoothly), but it turns out we should have done a dress rehearsal of everything. We ran into a number of problems in a mere 14-hour span:
Problem No. 1. We had planned on cajoling the camp hosts into letting us use the group campsite. I had written for policy information about it, and it seemed like only one or two white lies away. It turns out that pretty much everything I was told was exactly opposite of the actual policy, so we had to camp at the "real" campground next to other campers. This wasn't really a big deal; we were just looking forward to being separated from all others by at least a half mile radius.
Problem No. 2. We set about pitching tents first thing. Bill and I had our ground sheet all laid out, the tent poles straightened, and the tent ready to unfurl. When we started to unroll, however, we noticed black splotches all over the lighter areas of the tent. It turns out our tent has completely molded over. Ah, thank you Midwest humidity. There was no way we were going to sleep in a mold-infested tomb. So we made ourselves laugh and look on the bright side: "We get to sleep under the stars tonight!" There was no rain forecast, so it was just my fear of creepy crawlies that could get in the way. Time to buck up, Gretchen!
Problem No. 3. We brought out our camping stove and the fuel bottle for making dinner. The first step is to pump the fuel bottle. Pump pump pump pump. Fuel's leaking out the top of the bottle. Hmm. Maybe there was a lot of pressure built up in the bottle already (altitude change?) and we've over-pressurized. Open the bottle to release pressure. Rescrew the pump on. Pump pump pump. Fuel's still leaking. Okay. No stove to use tonight. Must build fire for dinner as well as marshmallows. (Thankfully Tyler is a super fire builder and had the wet wood smoking/flaming in no time!) We even remembered to set some wood aside for making coffee in the morning.
Problem No. 4. It had become increasingly obvious over the course of the evening that Eliza was hyper-vigilant and was going to be up and on alert at every noise. If we were in a tent to sleep, she might have calmed down eventually, sensing that we were "in bed." But sleeping outside, having tied her leash to either a tree or one of our waists (1-2-3-not-it!), was going to be a problem. And there was the creepy crawly issue still at the back of my mind. So we decided on the car. (I know I know. I'm ashamed. I can never remember sleeping in the car before.) The back seats fold down absolutely flat. Eliza fits snugly in the passenger seat. We even cracked the windows to minimize heat/condensation/carbon dioxide buildup. Unfortunately, the cracked windows resulted in lots of mosquitos as well as letting in the rain. (Rain! Absolutely no rain was forecast!) And the car is about 6 inches too short for Bill to be really comfortable. But we were saved from serious middle-of-the-night rain mickey-mousing and Eliza did settle down nicely.
We still had fun. In a sort of "Who invited Murphey and his stupid laws?" sort of way. But we did find ourselves muttering more and more often as the time passed: "We are actually good at camping. We are actually good at camping. We are actually good at camping."
So we've ordered a new tent. And we're researching pump to fuel bottle seals. And we're experimenting with seat configurations in the car to see if we can find a more comfortable way to sleep if there are future emergencies. And we're actually good at camping.
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