Subscribe via RSSCamping Revisited
Monday, October 29, 2007 |
Recently, I wrote about my family and camping. Specifically how my wife loves camping, outdoors, the sun and everything therein. Whereas I, the keeper of the technology and the one who fends our computers from vicious computer viruses, am more apt to stay indoors out of all that “fresh air” and “sunshine”. It’s not that I don’t like sunshine, but I prefer to look at it via a webcam.
Shortly after the infamous “Camping column”, my beautiful wife, who also happens to be a Girl Scout leader, turns to me and says, “You make it sound like you have EVER gone camping.” She had a point. What harm could it do to try this “camping thing” once? Maybe we can make sure that it’s within walking distance from a Holiday Inn. It was a beautiful September afternoon when we arrived at the camp.
Some campers prefer sleeping in tents, but thankfully my wife had rented us a cabin. I think she knew in her heart that trying to construct a miniature-scale replica of the Epcot Center was far beyond the scope of a “Trial run” at camping. The cabin was clean and wooden. Those are the two things I remember most about the place. “Boy is this place clean!” and “I didn’t know they made those from timber” are phrases that ran through my mind. Wooden beds, wood-lined walls, hardwood floors, and even a wooden sidewalk up to the place. It was like this place was constructed on some double-dog dare between the ironworkers and the carpenters.
After we arrived, we started to unload. I say “unload” because it was far more involved than “unpacking”. Chairs, cooking pans, water jugs, tongs, skewers, sleeping bags, lights, and even our own firewood. This was a lot of stuff for “Roughing it.” I’m not complaining. I like my accoutrements. They make life easier and less…..traumatic..
Where was I? Oh yes, we arrived at camp and my wife starts gathering branches to build a fire. I was instructed to “Split some wood”. I was wearing flannel, so I must know how to do this. I grabbed a large heavy axe and set a log on end. I brought the axe down upon it (with great vengeance) and the former tree exploded into sections. Wow! This was easy!
One log after another I split into pieces until I came upon an irregular log. The top was not flat and the diameter was smaller than the rest, so I reached for the hatchet. I held the mini log firmly with one hand and began a swift and mighty swing. Before I go any further, I have to say that using the large axe had done two things: It falsely increased my level of confidence with large swinging sharp objects. It had calibrated my muscles to swing in a certain way. Back to the swinging hatchet. I grasped the little lumber and swung the hatchet at it. I missed the log, but found my hand quite easily. I dropped the hatchet immediately and silently began doing the “Owie owie owie, this really hurts” dance. I did this quietly so as to not draw any attention to my blunder. My wife, who is also a mother of three, noticed the telltale “Owie dance” immediately. My cover was blown. Thankfully it was only a minor flesh wound. Had I properly sharpened the hatchet before use, I would have been in much more trouble. My ignorance has paid off once again. Thank you blunt hatchet! Afterwards, my outdoorsy spouse was ready for fire. She had the twigs and kindling ready. With one match, the fire was blazing. I was seriously impressed with her “mad Girl Scout skills”. I would like to say this to my beautiful wife: Jennifer, camping was fun and despite the spotty WiFi connection it was totally successful. Also, thank you for not videotaping the “Owie dance”.
