Among the Great Unwashed

“Daddy this year I am jumping off the cliff at the waterfall hike,” Brian pipes in from the back seat. We are on our way to our annual camping trip to Hickory Run State Park. I smile, put my book down and look through the windshield. Before I reply, Kira pipes in from the driver’s seat, “Oh no you’re not.” I am wondering why my wife is taking the bait. Brian, my middle boy, the self proclaimed “risk taker,” is looking to get a rise out of us. I am not sure if he is really an 8 year old adrenaline junky or if he has created this persona in an effort to differentiate himself from his siblings. This birth order stuff is awfully intriguing don’t you think? “Daddy almost did it last year! I’m jumping off the cliff. I think it will be cool.” Now I pipe in. “Brian, you might recall that I went to the edge of the cliff. I looked at how far the jump was. I listened to your mother shrieking, If you get a spinal cord injury don’t think I’m going to take care of you ‘cause I already have three kids! It was then that I did something called risk/reward analysis Brian. I decided the thrill of flying through the air for a second and a half, to land in a pool of ice cold water was not worth the bad things that could happen. Maybe I would land safely and swim away. Or I might wind up braking an arm, a leg or wind up spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair.” “Or Worse!” Kira shrieks again. “You could DIE!” “Well your mother is being melodramatic but that was why I decided the reward was not worth the risk.”

I leave Brian to ponder that. He stares out the passenger window as the Pennsylvania countryside rolls past. After a few minutes he says, “You know, maybe I won’t do it.” Kira and I exchange a knowing smile as we continue west on Route 80. I thought about how this was an apt analogy to explain why we go camping. A handful of our friends enjoy tent camping as much as we do but the majority seem to look askance at us when they find out we enjoy camping in tents. It’s similar to the look you might get if you say you enjoy going to the dentist. A neighbor will pull up in my driveway and say,

“Hey, you guys packing to go on vacation?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you going? Camping? You mean like in tents?”

I had one friend get out of his car, come over and ask me, “Is everything okay? You know, financially?” I assured him we were fine that we were choosing to camp.

I see the drawbacks, or risks of camping. I do. For the most part I am with the majority. I am an admitted germophobe. Usually it would take an act of Congress to get me to use a public restroom. I tell Kira I don’t like to play “away games.” I’m a teacher and I don’t even like to use the faculty bathroom. Then again, you should see some of my colleagues. On that note, you should see some of the clientele at some of our nation’s parks. I have never seen more donut boxes and body ink in my life. My boys always wind up bike riding with the requisite kid with the “hair tail.” What I like to call, "the mullet starter kit." The thought that we are sharing a restroom with Mr. and Mrs. Marlboro red pack and their children is not enough of a deterrent, even for me. Camping is still worth it.

Born and raised in Brooklyn, I’m really not a big bug guy either. Who is? I don’t have the patience for every flying, buzzing, biting, annoying creature that seems to love to spend time with ME every time I am communing outdoors. Sitting on my porch, reading the paper, I high-tail it inside at the first buzz. While camping, you just lather yourself up with some Deet-enhanced liquid and hope for the best. Mosquitoes, black flies, deer flies, horse flies, yellow jackets, white-faced hornets…still worth it.

Like most of you, particularly as we head toward our “advanced years,” I love my creature comforts. There was a day I would sleep on a Funyun-caked couch just to spend the weekend partying in Belmar, New Jersey. Now I will drive to Manhattan for dinner and unless I am guaranteed a bed at my buddy Murph’s apartment, I drive the 90 miles back to Middlebury, CT so that I can sleep in my own bed. I like ice in my soda, crisp clean sheets, preferably of a decent thread count, on a nice firm mattress and a hot shower. These are all things that you eschew once you decide to go camping. Any given camping weekend you might wind up with a root in your back or with your tent on a slope so the blood rushes to your head all night. A "nature call" in the middle of the night is really a hassle. You have to zip out of your sleeping bag, put your shoes back on, grab your flashlight, unzip the tent, crawl out, zip the tent back up, then traipse to the communal bathroom or find yourself a nice tree. Then back to the tent.....Still worth it!

Checking in at Hickory Run State Park, the lady with the Smoky the Bear hat tells us that we have to watch for black bears. As if the numerous signs printed on neon green paper weren’t enough warning. Apparently bears know that campgrounds are a gold mine for food,. She recommends that we keep our food locked safely in our car overnight and take other necessary precautions. “Please make sure your kids don’t hide any sweets in the tent, we had a bear pull two boys out of their tent a few years ago to get to their Hershey bars.” Wide-eyed I stare. She looks back at the trail map and says, “Hate to tell you this, but they were staying in your campsite, site 11. Bear came right down the hill. You see you guys are the most secluded, the closest to the real woods, so be extra careful. Enjoy your stay.” Gulp. Still worth it!

So what is it about camping? Sleeping out in tents? Carousing with other campers, who I like to call, “The Great Unwashed.” Since Memorial Day, we have camped out a grand total of 9 nights. Luckily for us, one of the things I failed to mention, mother nature for the most part has cooperated. Camping in tents is a bitch when it rains. Actually this year’s trip with The Boyles, The Quiltys and The Grices to Hickory Run was pushed back to Saturday morning after we looked at the local forecast and made a communal decision to pitch our tents on Saturday morning. Some risks are not worth taking.

Like any vacation, you have to pack, a lot: tents, sleeping bags, bug spray, sunscreen, flashlights, clothes, food and beer. Then, like any vacation, you have to drive. Here’s the kicker. Then you have to, as a family, create your lodging. In addition to building your weekend home, other things become more difficult as well, like cooking, doing dishes, showering. That being said, our network of national and state parks that allow camping are really quite good. They know what people will need while sleeping outdoors and they do their best to make everything, let’s say, reasonable.

What are the rewards for all this hard work? First is a feeling of accomplishment, of working together as a family and or a group of families. Mom, Dad and the boys, packing and unpacking the car, pitching the tents, and then breaking down camp is a challenge we enjoy. “Braving” the great outdoors, sleeping in a temporary shelter of your own creation, binds everyone together, kind of like a team.

The best reward is seeing the kid’s faces as they run excitedly around the campground. They have the feeling that they are free, that we are not watching, but we are. At Hickory Run, Elaine Boyle, the architect of our trip, ensures that we have our own little cul-de-sac of campsites. Running along the left side of our campsite oasis is a stream. The boys play in the water all day long. I love to watch them building dams and racing makeshift boats of sticks and leaves down the stream. Kids being kids. There’s nothing like watching a little boy’s face as he expectantly turns over a mossy rock in the hopes of finding a salamander. THAT makes it all worth it.

Fire! One of the rewards is the community fire. Boys, big boys, girls and big girls, love the fire. We build it and tend it together. As a group, we gather the wood. Then we teach the kids how to build the fire from paper, to kindling, to bigger sticks, to logs. There’s something intrinsically human about the process. We are cavemen again, We build fire. You can see the kids gaining a respect for the power and the dangers of fire. This year, 11 year old Brian Quilty pulls a stick out of the fire and burns his hand on the hot embers. After that mishap, he or any of the other kids won’t make that mistake again. Fire! Beats another park and rec soccer game.

Staying with the caveman connection, while camping….people get dirty. Covered in bug spray and sunscreen, smelling like campfire, wearing the same t-shirt for a while is par for the course. Mark Migliaccio, another friend and fellow camper, didn’t take his Yankee hat off the entire Memorial Day weekend. I think he might have slept with it on. We'll have to ask his wife. Memorial day weekend this year, at the end of the first night, we realized the kids had not brushed their teeth. And this would mean traipsing the lot of them to the communal bathroom a few hundred yards away. Melissa Migliaccio made an executive decision and said, “Ah, it’s alright, we’re camping, it’s only one night right?” There’s something liberating about that. Shower or no shower? Brush teeth or no brushing of teeth. Who cares? You feel removed from civilization, leaving behind the ties, the bounds of everyday life. And it feels really good.

Speaking of severing ties…there’s no internet! No TV! No Gameboy. And nobody notices. Not once this summer did I hear my boys say, “I’m bored,” while we were camping. Too many adventures to be had, mushrooms to discover, trees to climb and waterfalls to traverse. They don’t have Wii Hiking. You have to go camping!

Of course there is a bit more in it for the adults. We are not THAT altruistic. After a communal dinner of marinated London Broil, cooked over an open fire, assorted salads, topped off by smores, we sit around the campfire satiated. The last activity of the night, the kids play flashlight tag. Around 10 or so the kids go to bed. Comfortable in the knowledge that our offspring are exhausted from the day and snug in their sleeping bags, the adults then sit around the fire and enjoy a cold beer or two. Ensconced in a hooded sweatshirt, looking up at the stars, there’s no better way to spend an evening as the “truth syrum” begins to take effect. Steve Boyle usually orchestrates the conversation by tossing out what I would call a “Kumbaya” prompt. You know the, “Tell us why you love camping out.” Or, “Say something positive about each of your kids.” Sitting around the campfire with a group of close friends, I would highly recommend it. The risk is definitely worth the reward. “Hold on, I think I hear a bear!”