Roughing It, 2019 Style!
Passing Along the Camping Bug
From the time I was about seven years old until I went to college, camping was a basic part of life. My father loves to camp with a passion that even I don’t fully understand. I’ve never been quite as outdoorsy as he is, but because of his influence, camping has always held a certain charm for me. I had always intended to introduce my children to the fun of sleeping outdoors in a tent after filling up on s’mores and hot dogs.
The only problem was, my job for about 8 years basically precluded me from having a life outside of work. So the idea of camping languished.
Then in 2017 I switched jobs (the best thing I have ever done besides marry my wife) and now suddenly there is time to do stuff again. Then the problem became the lack of camping gear, and the fact that money was tight and I couldn’t really spend it on a tent when it needed to go towards more important things like, you know, food.
Enter my father, who has more camping gear than anybody I know.
He proposed to me a couple months ago that he would provide the backpacks, tents, and cooking gear if my two oldest sons and I wanted to come camping with them. It would be a multi-generational camping trip: my dad, his son (me) and two of my siblings, and my sons. The plan would be to hike to the top of Cole Mountain (not Cold Mountain as mentioned before, sorry!) and make camp. We would hike up on a Friday afternoon and set up the campsite, cook dinner, have some fun at the top of the mountain after nightfall, then go to bed. The next day we would do some more hiking before finally breaking everything back down and heading back to our cars. I readily agreed and took the time off from work.
After some weather delays, and a car accident involving my younger brother (he was okay, but eek!), we finally finalized our plans. Then, just days before that Friday, we received warning that the county had issued a outdoor burn ban because of drought conditions. That meant no comforting campfire. But the trip was still on.
I’ve spoken a lot on this site about children loving experiences more than things, and that still holds true. But my oldest son has some anxiety challenges, and his younger brother tends to mirror the likes and dislikes of the oldest, so I was a little hesitant about what they’d think about something as foreign to them as camping. When I proposed the idea to them, the oldest initially didn’t want to go, and I didn’t want to force him to do it. But after a few days he signed back on to come with us, albeit with some trepidation. This was around the time when we took a family trip to Cole Mountain just to get the boys used to where they were going, and that seemed to help a lot.
The day arrived and the boys were nervous but happy to be going, and we headed out to meet my dad and siblings at the parking area at Cole Mountain. Once arrived, we loaded all of our clothes and water and other gear into the backpacks provided by my dad. The boys looked so small in comparison to their backpacks, it was really funny. They were troopers, though, even with most of their body weight on their back.
We set out on our trudging way to the top of the mountain. The trail is less than two miles, but if you’re not used to carrying a load on your back going uphill it can be…challenging. I was winded only about a third of the way up. One of my sons sat down on a rock to rest and accidentally leaned back too far, and the weight of his pack toppled him over. He wasn’t hurt and the effect was quite comical.
After what seemed an eternity (and a lot of calf pain), we crested the mountain and headed down into a dip on the other side that led to our campsite. It was a cozy place, already set up by scores of other campers into a usable campsite with logs to sit on and a makeshift fire pit built from rocks. The boys loved it immediately and we proceeded to make camp. It had been ages since I set up a tent, but it all came right back to me. The boys caught on quick too.
After the tents were set up, my dad set up two propane cylinders and burners, since we couldn’t make a campfire. We cooked ramen noodles, hot dogs, and finally made s’mores using the propane flame. By that time it was getting dark, so we got our flashlights and headed up to the top of the mountain to stargaze.
Looking down on Virginia’s little towns and byways at night is a glorious experience. The air was clear and a little chilly but not cold, and a slight breeze wafted over the grass at the top of the mountain. You could see for miles in all directions. Lights from hundreds of homes nestled in dozens of tiny towns and hamlets and farms glittered all around us. A nearly full moon stood overhead, lighting up the world so completely that flashlights were not necessary. The moon hampered the stargazing a bit but we didn’t care. The beauty of the view by itself could have kept me occupied looking at it for hours.
Finally it was time for bed, and my sons and I curled up in the ten designated for us while my dad and two siblings bedded down in the other tent. For once on a camping trip, nature around us was virtually silent. I barely heard a cricket chirp or a cicada creak. The wind down in the campsite was nonexistent. Normally, in my childhood camping days, you couldn’t go to sleep what with all the crickets and tree frogs and everything, but this was different. I think the early fall weather had something to do with it. We slept decently well when we were asleep, but the ground was still hard and uncomfortable.
The next morning introduced us to one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve ever seen. The color of it was drenched in red, a fierce glowing volcanic red filtered through scattered clouds. The picture does it no justice at all.
We made eggs and ramen and coffee, relaxing under a cool overcast sky that looked like it might drizzle later. After breakfast, we left the campsite and headed out for a morning hike around the edge of the mountain. We all made a big mistake and left our water at the campsite, thinking the hike would be shorter than it ended up being. Oops. But we got to see part of the Appalachian Trail, and meet an old guy camping there who had some fun stories of spending his retirement hiking in the mountains. I’m not sure it was tobacco in his hand-rolled cigarette…
We hiked back to camp, then beat the rain on our way back to the car. The verdict?
The boys loved camping. I was so happy. I’d been afraid they’d freak out, or complain the whole time. But neither happened. They had a ball. Now they want to do it again.
