Camping

It was Wednesday morning I had been waiting for weeks for this day to arrive. My dad was coming home early from work and we were headed off to Payson Lakes for a few days of leisurely family vacation. My grandparents were the camp rangers so we always got the best spot. My mom was not coming this year because she was “pregnant.” Actually as I remember it she only came to one of our camping trips and that was because she felt guilty that her three year old daughter was brave enough to sleep without a night light, but she still had reservations. If there was something more exciting than camping to a 11 year old kid, I wasn’t aware of it. This was the one time all year when my dad would get out his baby, a 1974 black and silver Chevy, we could play in the dirt, and mom didn’t harp on us about cleaning our rooms. Dad had pulled out his truck the day before so we could get all packed. That truck was a thing of beauty and nobody got to touch it but my dad. My mom used to drive it until she backed down our brick wall with it, I always thought it was kind of funny, but it was not the type of memory that was okay to talk about.
After breakfast I went upstairs with Andy to pack our things. “Hey Ernie (he had ears that were too big for his head), don’t forget to pack enough undies, remember what happened last time,” I jokingly reminded Andy.
“Oh, be quiet it wasn’t my fault. I thought that squirrel was a bear, it was huge!”
“Whatever Bambi, just be more careful if you are going to sleep on the bottom of the trailer with me.”
My dad had made an old garbage trailer into a camping trailer that would sleep 4, two on the top and two on the bottom. Being the oldest, Andy and I got the most comfortable spots on the bottom and Dallin and Alex had to sleep on the top.
Once our bags were packed we all went out to clean up our bikes. Andy had already claimed Wild Fire so I took Double Jeopardy. All of our bikes had names, I know that most people don’t name their bikes, but most people don’t have some 200 bikes to choose from either. Naming the bikes was just easier that saying the blue one, you know not the blue one with the white wall tires and not the blue one with a red seat, but the blue one that has some green on the pedals. Wild fire got its name because it had a sign on it that said Wild fire, not too complicated. Double Jeopardy was called Double because my dad had welded a second set of handle bars on top of the original ones. We also had Triple Jeopardy, Black Beauty, Knight Rider, as well as several other names. Wild Fire was the best, I have no reason for this, we just all knew that hands down Wild Fire was the best bike to ride. Dallin took Triple Jeopardy. Alex was so short he didn’t have much of a choice so he just took the shortest bike, he had just turned four and was just out of diapers, but he could ride a bike better than most 5 year old girls.
Just before lunch we heard the roar of Dad’s 1977 brown Mustang, with a custom black racing stripe painted down the middle, come around the corner. After lunch we would be off to the mountains. All of the other camping equipment had been loaded the night before because it was no small project, we were not what you would call casual campers. My dad had invented everything from as simple as a camp bathroom to a camping shower, water heater, and smokeless fire. We might not have had a nice family camping trailer, but we did camp in luxury, at least during the part of the camp that was between put up and take down. It took at least 3 to 4 hours to set up camp and to take it down. Then, after arriving at home it took a good day to clean and put away all of the wonderful treasures. My dad was very particular and had to have everything done a certain way. Everything was organized, but not in a way that anybody else could ever figure out.
“Andy, Bryan get out here and help me get these bikes on the back of the trailer,” my dad commanded in a mater of fact way.
Once the bikes were loaded, we were loaded. I climbed into the back of the truck after Dallin and Alex climbed between all of the gear and nestled in somewhere underneath all the camp stuff like a couple of little rodents. After Andy got in it was time for the food. The coolers were the last to be packed in. One went on my side and another at my feet. I was as packed in as any sardine ever has been. I hoped that I wouldn’t get an itch on the way to our destination as my arms had been pinned to my sides. It wasn’t too bad, only an hour and a half trip and although I couldn’t see out of the truck, or any of my siblings, I was able to look at the blue sky, which stayed pretty much the same until we pulled into the canyon and I could see the tops of some of the trees. Without being able to see anything, including my watch, I felt like we were driving to the moon.
At last we had arrived, and not a moment too soon because I was beginning to get a cramp in one of my legs. Our bikes were unloaded first. Andy and I had mounted them like lightning and were about to take off.
“Not so fast boys, we have got to get camp set up before the fun begins,” my dad loved to spoil the fun.
The next few hours were not only boring, but painful. I hated holding poles in place and this year my dad had added a few features to our camp site so we had even more labor to perform.
“This is completely stupid, it’s going to be dark soon and we are still doing stupid things that nobody cares about except for Dad,” I secretly and defiantly complained to myself. From the looks on my brothers’ faces, I could tell that they were thinking the same thing. I looked over at Dallin and he was digging away in his nose with his finger up to his knuckle. Then I noticed Alex in the corner of my eye pulling a bug apart prior to its consumption. I broke out in laughter as I pointed out the fiasco to Andy. The vibration from our laughter made the poles swing back and forth. The repercussions were quick and we at once realized our error and straightened to attention. The sudden pressure inside my head from holding everything in exploded with a fury, snot flew everywhere. My brothers couldn’t hold back any longer and the tarp came crashing to the ground. The good thing about my dad was that his temper was quick and furious, but it usually did not last. How he didn’t find a boy trying to hold a metal pole still while covered in snot hilarious I’ll never know. With the camp set up to my father’s approval Andy, Dallin and I sped off on our bikes while Alex stayed behind to eat more bugs and dirt. For some reason riding bikes in the mountains is so much more exciting than riding bikes in the city.
There was a paved trail that went half-way around the lake. After the dam the trail turned to dirt. We decided to take the trail all the way around instead of turning back. Not long after that decision we realized that we had made a mistake. Not only was the pathway dirt, but there were fallen trees all along the pathway. As the evening grew darker, the woods grew scarier; at one point I swear I saw a dragon.
“Stop!”
I turned around to see that Dallin had twisted an ankle trying to climb over one of the fallen trees. We were still quite a ways form our camp or any help at all. Andy and I took off as fast as we could to get help and left Dallin to fend off the dragon with nothing but a stick and some rocks. The going was tough, but I was brave, so brave in fact that during the long trek to find my dad I came up with a name for myself; Super Bike Boy. In my mind I became a superhero and as such I would have a difficult, but rewarding life ahead of me.
The next morning my superhero dreams came to a crashing end when I realized that a good superhero would not play in Stinging Nettle and be covered head to foot in a horrible rash. Dallin and Alex had a fun time of my misery, but there was nothing funny about it. Try accomplishing simple daily tasks like walking or going to the bathroom with an awful rash. After the rash subsided the rest of the camping trip was filled with boating, bike riding, hiking and bugging our grandparents, I think they were extremely relived to see us go after three long days of tracking dirt into their gently used trailer equipped with a toilet, full kitchen, and comfortable beds.
The trip, like many others that would come in the future, was filled with memorable moments, moments that could only be worth something if they are shared with others. I learned on our camping trips that even though brothers smell funny in the morning, and were extremely annoying they were my best friends. Not only did we enjoy being around each other, but we accepted each other as we were and we made each other stronger.