It Always Rains, Part 2

True to form, Mama J. doesn’t pull any punches about how she feels or how things go! The photo is from one of those earliest camping trips to Door County, Wisconsin, in Sept. 1970. NOTE: I have included minor edits (punctuation, mainly), but the text mostly remains as it appears in the original. The boldfaced subheadings/intros are mine.

The First Camping Trip

We pitched our tent and organized as well as we knew how. One of the first rules of using a Styrofoam cooler, or any cooler, really, is to keep it in the shade. But we had some problems and ended up cooking some strange meals in order to use food we weren’t sure was safe to store any longer. Since then, I freeze practically everything that goes in the cooler well ahead of time to reduce the risk of food spoilage. Anything not frozen gets used the first day. The hardest thing to remember when doing charcoal cooking is to start the charcoal sufficiently early enough. Somehow, it’s always absolutely perfect to cook over when you’ve finished eating!

After our meals, we took turns taking the dishes up to the utility room to wash. At the time, I didn’t think it was quite the thing to do, but no one stopped us, either. I am still embarrassed about it. Washing dishes when camping requires lots of hot water. While we are eating a meal, I have the dishwater on heating. It amuses me that frequently I boil the water, which means I’m washing dishes in much hotter water than I use at home, either in a dishwasher or the sink. The easiest way to wash the dishes is to scrape them well ahead of time, and I finally thought to carry a rubber scraper to help in this chore. The dishes must be thoroughly washed and rinsed well in scalding water. Soap residue can cause diarrhea, which would make life miserable. Both wash and rinse water should be disposed of properly, so they do not pollute streams or the ground. A wastewater hole is one way to do this. At any rate, dishes are washed on site, not in the utility room!

While we were sitting around a fire, the rain began. And continued, far beyond the point of there being any pleasure in sitting around in it. We huddled together for shelter. Actually, the only one of us with any brains was my sister-in-law’s big golden retriever, who got under the picnic table—and she likes water.

We finally decided to call it a day, especially as it was dark. My in-laws had brought bedding but no sleeping bags or tent, as a tent they’d planned to rent hadn’t worked out. It got a little confusing trying to figure out how to bed down four adults and three children in a four-man tent, which was looking smaller by the minute. Eventually, my nephew ended up in the car while the rest of us disposed as well as we could. Between rain, bodies, and some antique air mattresses that kept deflating, no one really got a good night’s sleep. We’ve never used air mattresses since, and I think they’re more trouble than they’re worth and heavy to tote around, besides.

The morning was thankfully clear rather than soggy underfoot. While the men went fishing, we took advantage of the campground’s swimming area. I should say the children and my sister-in-law did. I am not a water person at all, but it gives me pleasure to watch someone swim well and enjoy it. It’s probably one of the few times Judy ever worried while swimming, as the golden retriever kept thinking Judy needed to be retrieved! Too soon it was time to head back home. I found myself hooked on camping. Al still doesn’t believe it, and sometimes I doubt my own sanity. I did hang some provisos on going again, though. First, we learn some things about camping from friends of ours who had a great deal of experience, and secondly, we never camp with anyone again. While that sounds like a direct insult to my in-laws, it is not meant as one. I simply found I did not like the enforced companionship this sort of camping provided.

Next up: Getting the Hang of Things!