WHO'S NOT OF CAMPING? - Segment 3 (Scroll down for earlier segments)

     My first opportunity to demonstrate my tent-raising skills came in the Colorado Rockies.  We arrived at our destination by mid-afternoon so I could have the tent up by nightfall.  After pulling it off the car roof, I rolled it out on what could have been mistaken for a rock quarry.

     As I started to assemble the tent, a crowd began to gather, apparently hoping for a How-to lesson in raising a canvas tent the size of a small apartment.  In a matter of minutes, their demeanor went from curious to rolling-on-the-ground, belly laughs.

     “This is embarrassing,” said my wife.  “Why couldn’t we have found some place where there were no people?”

     “Who would hear our screams if this thing went down?” I answered.  “We could be trapped under this canvas with no way out.”

     Stepping around those who continued to roll on the ground, I finally completed the tent-raising, sometime after dark.  Proud that I had completed my project, I wanted to hand out memorial tent pegs, but everyone was sound asleep. 

     As we prepared for bed, my wife asked, “Where is Justin’s bedding?”

     I checked the car, and, sure enough, it was home.

     “He’s a year old; he can sleep with us,” I said. 

     So off to sleep we went, until the middle of the night.  The thunder woke us up.  Soon, torrential rains were pounding the roof as lightning danced across the sky.  Fierce winds buffeted the tent.  I was thankful I had taken time, several hours, to raise a tent that would withstand a storm.   It was just about then that everything started to shift.  I had prepared it for the wrong storm.

     As the tent was shifting, Justin was leaving the sleeping bag, in an escape attempt.  Whisking him back in, we felt the tent collapsing upon us.

     Knowing it would be futile to try and raise the tent again in the thunderstorm, we remained where we were until daybreak, when rescuers came and pulled us from the collapsed canvas.

     “Being close to people didn’t matter,” Connie said. “They still didn’t hear our screams.”

     “They were worn out from laughter,” I answered.

 

     “Well, I’m worn out from camping,” she responded, rather convincingly.

     So we rested from camping for a brief time, probably three to four years.  By that time, the memories of our past experience were dimming, so we attempted another round of “Camping World.”

 

 

To be continued...check back soon