Camp-Lore and the Great Outdoors

This weekend my lovely boyfriend Brian and I were going camping. We had talked about it for at least half of the summer, picked the best place to go, promised to go REAL camping (which apparently means NO playgrounds, arcades, pools, or electricity... the type of camping my family and camping family friends prefer), and packed up our bundles.

Hoo-rah, the nearest state park (prime REAL camping at these babies, I hear) was a mere 30 minutes away!

My dad even got excited about Brian's passion for REAL camping and gave me a book to let him borrow.

[The Book of Camp-Lore and Woodcraft by Dan Beard. copyright 1920.]

[there are cute illustrations, and fun old-timey words like "rucksack" and "tenderfeet," and says things like people who aren't real campers should "stick to the bungling bungalow."]

Brian got to my house a little late in the day (he had a ride from his parents, so he didn't get to choose the time), but no big deal we packed up our belongings and were OFF!

Lake Maria State Park, curse it, was hot, sticky, fly-infested, and confusing! The ranger station had no ranger. We didn't notice the board that told us which sites were open and which were reserved (the lying, cheating website said "NO RESERVATIONS" in caps lock, like it was final and legally binding). We had to "backpack" to the site(s) which would have been fine had we only walked 1/2-1 mile to a SINGLE site rather than being disappointed three times while lugging heavy backpacks and sweating profusely.

I could probably drag this story into a novel--or at least a few chapters, but let me nutshell it for all you fellow impatient 21st-century-ites: humidity, back pains, continual disappointment, darkness, getting lost, biting flies.
It was too late in the day... well, night. We couldn't make three or four one mile trips. We had to pick an Alternate Campground.

Well.

There was no back-up plan. So we went to the Back-Up of back-ups, namely: the Back-Yard Plan.

[our cozy campsite... nice and close to the ranger's station and toilets, right?]

[the good 'ole tent. our one and only shelter from the elements.]

Worry no more, Readers, we made the best of it. (What do you expect when two Hopeless Optimists experience failed plans?)

We backyard "roughed it," not quite REAL camping, but fun enough. We slept in the tent and even started a bonfire!

[the blue is one of those fancy fire-color-changer sticks. ooooh. la. LA.]

[ghost stories]

[Brian is totally one of those people who tends to the fire constantly and pokes at it with his hand or a stick. he's also the one always adding firewood and monitoring the flame.]

That night, we just knew it was time to employ our wilderness skills. We made sure our food was out of the way of the wild animals. We macheted a trail to the bathroom before moon-rise. We put out some garlic to ward off the vampires. (But there was also a copy of Twilight to show that hunky Edward that he is MORE than welcome. xoxoo...)

Oh, and the cherry on top of these wilderness activities was brushing our teeth, not with running water but, with a mere WATERBOTTLE. Wow. We were officially and seriously Serious Campers.

[not for the weak-hearted]

[flashing your teeth while brushing helps ward off the wolves--just another camping tip for ya]

The next day we took a hike. To the local bowling alley. Pretty sure no one at that camping site had ever trekked quite as far.

Brian forgot socks, so he borrowed some of mine. Lucky for him I own a pair of Men's socks! They are ugly blue ones that I got from horrid Old Navy in a fun attempt to clear the balance from a gift card.
To ease his evident social stigma, I too, vouched to wear some ugly socks. They were knee-high, pink, and striped. My mom came too, and brought her Trick or Treat Halloween socks!

[ah, classic bowling alley carpeting. beautiful.]

[legs! legs! fantastic, hairy man legs!]

Next, we each had to take a personal bowling profile pic. Oooh, baby.

[mom, Halloween Queen]

[me a.k.a. christie a.k.a. The Striped Wonder]

[chic, sexy, hip... no, not an Abercrombie model, it's BRIAN VIRGIL!]

I am a notoriously bad bowler. But Brian is for some odd reason amazing and my mom is in a bowling league. So I got really excited when, for a single frame, I was merely ONE POINT away from kicking Brian's ugly-man-sock-wearing butt!!

[Brian alias Bowler 2: 97; Christie alias Bowler 3: 96; thumb belongs to Bowler 3]

[and then there was one KAR-RAZE-EE moment when we were all tied! Like a three-legged race or something!]

In conclusion, camping was a good time.

Thanks for reading y'all,

christie