You heard it here first kids, especially in BC. Why you ask?
Bugs, rain, cold mountain air and despite the summertime rain, no campfires allowed. That’s the part that really gets me. Smores or marshmallows of any kind demand to be heated by flame. Not propane…actual crackling campfire. The kind you peer into and forget your troubles by. The kind that makes your clothes reek for days. The kind you sing beside!
When I was a kid, our vacations consisted of camping across this great land of ours. One year we went east, the next we went west. Back in those days, we rented a pop-up trailer and hitched it to the back of the car. I still remember the trailer swaying from the wind on the Cabot Trail in Nova Scotia that very nearly took us to our death.
The first year we had your basic 4 man pop-up. Nothing fancy, just the smell of canvas. But we were happily NOT sleeping directly on the ground. The next year, my parents sprang for luxury! A pop-up trailer complete with a stove, a fridge and a dinette table. I thought I was checked into the Ritz! That was, until wanting to be helpful and clean up the joint after dinner, I stepped directly onto an empty can (the triangular kind that formerly contained ham), while taking out the garbage! Talk about a blood bath. While enroute to the dreaded hospital in the dark, while trying not to bleed to death, a storm came out of nowhere and the power went out while I was being stitched up. All this drama took place in the good old U.S. of A, a land of no health care. We received a bill from the hospital when we got home for services rendered. Happily, our government plan was finally persuaded to foot the bill or did they bill my foot? Whatever.
Then there was the time when my friend Ian and myself thought we’d go camping near Midland, Ontario. A storm was predicted. Ian was ready. He dug a trench. He erected both a fly and a tarp. Happily, we could hardly hear the kids screaming in the spot next to ours above the deafening sound of thunder from the storm. Not to mention the lightening and the monsoon. I asked Ian, “at what point do we abandon the camp and head to a five star hotel?” A five star hotel in Midland. Laughable. We decided that if a river were to run between our respective sleeping bags, we were outta there. We survived the night, as did the children. I hope.
When I moved to beautiful British Columbia, at first I thought camping would be a wonderful experience due to the beautiful mountains and the glorious fresh air. I was wrong. We live in a rain forest and camping in a rain forest sucks. Big time. The air is too fresh at a brisk 10 degrees overnight and what they call “dew” in BC is only slightly less dewy than the Midland monsoon. Cold and clammy does not appeal.
One year, my husband Ken and I joined a biking/camping trip that was to take place below Mount Baker in Washington State. We packed Ken’s hatchback full of essentials, hooked on the bikes and began. From the moment we buckled our seatbelts, it rained. Not wanting to erect a tent in the rain, or fancy sleeping on the wet ground, we opted to sleep in the hatchback. Thinking there would be lots of room, we tried to settle in. When you have a tire iron in your back, it’s hard to sleep. When you turn over and hit the ceiling of the hatchback, it wakes you up. Before breakfast, we decided to leave and never went back.
We still have our camping equipment; we keep it to be ready for the BIG expected earthquake. Should I lose my house and everything I own, I’ll be thankful for a nylon dome tent to call my own. Until that time, I only check into hotels that contain the word “spa” or “resort” in their name.
