|Kai's husband enjoying their isolation in Cornucopia, OR|
Growing up, my family didn’t go camping. I never really developed a taste for it. And yet, when this discussion thread posts, I’ll be starting my tent camping summer vacation. We are visiting the Grand Canyon, Zion and Bryce National Parks as well as any ‘largest ball of twine’ or other sites we might stumble upon on the way. I’m willing to put up with some sleepless nights in order to explore our astounding country.
I remember in sixth grade I went to summer camp with a friend. We slept on cots, in platform tents. Really, not the worst situation possible. However, being in the Midwest and next to a lake, we had to sleep under mosquito netting. Just as I dropped off to sleep one night, I heard a buzzing close to my ear. I slapped my hand over my ear and trapped the fly inside. Smart move! I still flinch at a buzzing sound. A couple nights later I was awoken by someone tickling my foot. Or rather, something. I awoke to find the silhouette of a raccoon, standing on his back feet, trying to capture my toes with his paws and mouth. Luckily the heavy canvas of the tent between him and my tootsies made that darn near impossible.
The summer after my sophomore year of high school I went to camp with a different friend and I fell madly in crush with a boy. Nothing happened, but we remained friends for quite a while afterward. He and his sister and his best friend even worked with me for a short time. So not all my earliest camping experiences were horrible.