HAPPY CAMPERS - Final segment (Scroll down for earlier segments)


     I had no idea what was involved in extreme camping.  I thought it was like camping on the face of a calving glacier, or inside the crater of an erupting volcano, or even on the crumbling banks of a raging river, but I discovered it was far more extreme.  It involved shunning five-star hotels for a sleeping bag and a good soccer field. 

     “There are some who think I’m just being cheap,” says Lester.

      "Maybe borderline delirious, but not cheap,” I answered.  “Of course, I haven’t experienced the true comfort of a freshly mowed soccer field.”

     He admitted it was sometimes difficult getting to sleep with all the cheering.  “But it quiets down after the game,” he said.   “And I know the location of all the sprinklers.”      

     If the weather is poor, Lester will resort to mobile camping.  We’re not talking forty feet of luxury in a sun-drenched oasis.  We’re talking fourteen feet of cramped compact in the pouring rain in a Wal-Mart parking lot.  Lester says he’s spent so many nights in his car that he’s had the locks changed.  Now he can use a hotel key card.

     He tells me he even has maid service.  He uses Mobile Maids, a maid service that caters to people who sleep in their cars.  Every day they come by to clean and vacuum.  Then they make your sleeping bag.  He says some even turn down the top of the bag and leave a mint on his pillow.

     He’s had some problems with the police ignoring his “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging on the outside of his car door.  He said he does his best to ignore the bright lights shining in the window, but it’s the pounding on the car that keeps him awake. 

     One night, Lester was really embarrassed.  He’d forgotten to display his “Do Not Disturb” sign. One of the Mobile Maids was driving by and noticed it said “Maid May Clean Car.”  While she was trying to get in, the car alarm went off, which attracted the police, and all the lights.  He said it took him a long time to get back to sleep. Then he forgot to set his alarm, and overslept.  When he woke up, he was riding behind a tow truck.   He said the gas was cheap, but the room was a bit pricey.   

     Lester says that’s why it’s so much easier camping in a driveway.  The sound of a honking horn, as people are trying to leave for work in the morning, is the perfect alarm clock.        

     When Lester flies and has to rent a car, he’s found a company called Cruise and Snooze. You can not only sleep in the car, but it comes with a sleeping bag.   

     On a rare occasion, Lester will stay overnight in a hotel.  He likes to stay in hotels where pets are welcome.  If they refuse to stay, he goes back to the car.

     One night, several pets followed him.  They wanted to sleep in the car.  He said that kind of camping would be too extreme.

     “When you stay in your car, you give up a few hotel amenities,” Lester says, “such as fire alarms going off in the middle of the night or spending the night in an elevator on the 16^th floor, but for extreme, happy campers, it’s worth it.”

 

 

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HAPPY CAMPERS - Segment 4 (Scroll down for earlier segments)

      The next morning dawned bright and early; well, early, but not bright.

     Why do we have wet sleeping bags?” asked my wife, cleverly hiding her irritation behind a frown.  “Did we get running water overnight?”

     This gave me the perfect opportunity to help her increase her camping savvy.

     “It’s ‘dew seepage’”, I answered.

     “What’s ‘dew seepage’?” she asked.

     “During the night, dew settles on the tent.  It seeps through the material and hangs on the inside, like a bat hanging in a cave.  It stays there until you accidentally bump the tent, which then produces a flash flood, sweeping you out of the tent and several miles down a newly-formed creek.  Now, we better see if we can find our tent.” 

     Going bump in the night did not move her toward happy camper status.  In fact, she looked much like those people who had run me out of camp.

     I figured I’d give her a little time to forget this night and, several years down the road, continue my pursuit of the “Happy Camper.”

    Years later, I discovered a happy camper in my own backyard.  It was my cousin, Lester.  “I was in town on business,” he said.  “I didn’t want to wake you up when I stopped.  Since I carry a sleeping bag for special occasions, I decided I would overnight in your backyard.”

 

     “I’m sure it was a special occasion when the sprinkler system went on,” I answered.

 

     “It’s just one of those amenities of backyard camping.”

 

     “Well, you’d better come in and dry off.”

 

     After breakfast, we reminisced about our backyard campouts when we were kids.

 

     Then Lester informed me that he had gotten into advanced, extreme camping.  (And my wife considered any camping extreme.) 

 

 

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HAPPY CAMPERS - Segment 3 (Scroll down for earlier segments)


     My search for the elusive happy camper continued after marriage. 

     For our first vacation, I suggested to my wife that we try camping.  I depressed, I mean, impressed her with my backyard and vacant lot credentials. Her primary experience was 5-star, luxury suite hotels; not much to build upon. I tried to convince her there were many happy campers in our midst.  I thought, if anything could bond the relationship of newlyweds, it would be camping, especially if we could get involved in a happy camper’s group.

     Connie was skeptical.  She knew happy and 5-star hotels went together, but she didn’t know about happy and camping.  It didn’t sound right to her.  But after a brief period of weeping and carrying on, lasting no longer than an hour or so, I convinced her that this would be good.

     The next day, I looked for a tent with a remote.  Not finding it, I took a couple of dollars out of savings and invested in a cozy little pup tent.

    “Why didn’t you buy a two-man tent?” Connie asked. “We’re a bit larger than pups.”

     “This will be romantic,” I said unconvincingly.

     Thinking ahead, I surprised her with bikes for each of us.  I had seen many campers riding bikes with all they needed right on the bike.  I thought if this works out as well as I have planned, eventually we won’t need the car.  It will just be the two of us, our bikes, and all our gear.  I could feel my adrenaline starting to pump with the heightened expectations as I comforted Connie in her distress.

     Before embarking on our vacation of a lifetime, I suggested we try the bikes.  Being skeptical of my intent, and cautious about over-exercising, Connie said, “I hope this isn’t going to be the Tour de France.” 

     “Not at all,” I reassured her, “just a little Tour de Neighborhood.” 

     After coasting down and walking up several hills in the area, Connie said, “I think I might do better on a stationary bike, as long as I don’t have to use the pedals.”

     “You’ll have a hard time keeping up with me on a stationary bike, “I explained. 

     The day for our departure finally arrived.  After diverting my wife’s attention with some chocolate, I fastened the bikes to the bike rack on the trunk.  Then I went down my checklist, making sure we had everything we needed for our first night in camping heaven.  “Bikes, two sleeping bags, tent; yep, we’ve got everything,” I assured Connie.

     Along the way, we stopped occasionally to ride our bikes. 

     “Riding would be much easier, if we could take the bikes off the rack,” Connie suggested.

     “I'll take them off when we get out of all this tar and gravel,” I answered.

    
     We finally arrived at our destination for the evening.   I looked around to see if we might be near any happy campers, but everyone was already asleep.

     After setting up camp, we squeezed into our cozy little tent and lay down.  “I’d better get our sleeping bags,” I said as I jumped up and ran back to the car.  

     
     After getting settled, I thought how pleasant to be away from all the distractions of a hotel: TV, air conditioning, running water, comfortable beds with a mint on your pillow...We were well on our way to becoming happy campers, until morning.

 

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HAPPY CAMPERS - Segment 2 (Scroll down for opening segment and earlier chapters)

     I remembered seeing a picture of a happy camper when I was a young boy.  It was in a camping magazine.  The young man was smiling and seemed very happy as he erected his tent with a remote while sitting in the warmth of his car.  He went on to tell how this tent would withstand floods, hurricanes, nuclear war and teenagers.  It even came with feather beds.

    I liked this picture. 

    Then I realized the extensive knowledge I could gain from spending time around accomplished happy campers.  So, one summer I decided to embark on a personal quest for the happy camper.  By the end of the summer, I had spotted several Sasquatch, but no happy campers.  I did run into a few campers, but they were cold and wet and trying to light a fire with soggy matches. Just to be sure, I asked, “Any happy campers here?”  They made several life-threatening gestures as they ran me out of camp. 

     The following summer I continued my quest for the happy camper.  A golden opportunity arose when I was mistakenly invited to go camping with our youth group.  Arriving at our destination, the air was filled with heightened expectations, along with a plague of swarming mosquitoes. 

     I knew I could learn a lot about happy camping from our leader, Archie.  What could make a person happier, than leading an incorrigible group of pre-teenage boys into the wilderness, unless he was planning on leaving us there?  Looking into Archie’s eyes, I was certain I could see the peaceful gaze of a happy camper.  As we unloaded our gear and started to set up camp, I could sense a significant upcoming event---probably all the knowledge I was about to gain from spending time around our leader.  It was just about this time that I took a step backward and sat squarely on Archie’s fishing pole, promptly dividing it into two equal parts.  As I looked into his eyes, they were missing the peaceful gaze of the happy camper.  I stepped forward for a better look.  It appeared the gaze had been replaced by a glare.  Then I noticed his muscles twitching.  I could feel an adrenaline rush coming on as I backpedaled slowly, looking for an open space.  When I spotted the open space, I took all of it.  As I bolted from camp, I realized that finding a happy camper was not going to be an easy task.     

     To this day, Archie hasn’t invited me fishing again. And I know he has two perfectly good poles.  It doesn’t matter if they’re a little short.  The fish don’t care.   

 

 

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