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


     After several more years had elapsed for sufficient memory loss, I suggested our next family adventure.  “On our next ten day vacation, let’s divide our time between camping and hotels.”

     “Divide it right down the middle,” Connie answered, “Nine nights, hotel; one night, camping; unless that’s too much camping.”

     We let the kids choose our destination since we thought it might be our last family trip together; although we thought that after every vacation.

     They chose the Canadian Rockies. 

     As we made our way toward the mountains, no one mentioned the “B” word, but we were heading into prime bear territory.

     The second day out we noticed an ominous-looking sign along the highway; “BEAR WARNING—DANGEROUS--if you see a bear, remain in your car at all times.”  Next to the sign, they had a picture of a bear for those who might have trouble identifying one.  Fortunately, I already had a picture of a bear in my billfold.

     Not long after passing the sign, we noticed a long line of cars pulled off on the side of the road, a sure sign of bears nearby.  As my wife was reminding us about the “bear warning” sign, I pulled off the road, behind the last car.  Then the kids and I did what everyone else had done; we grabbed our cameras, threw open the doors, and sprinted, to get in position for the best bear picture of the year; one we could send to National Geographic.

     At the same time, we heard Connie yelling, “Get back here and shut all the doors, in case the bear circles back!”

     After getting some terrific pictures of the backs of other people taking pictures, we continued down the road.

     That evening we camped in the mountains.  We arrived after dark, when all the other campers were asleep as I was just too tired to entertain.  While I tried to quell my own family’s laughter, I worked to erect the tent.  By now, I was able to do it in an hour and a half.

     While I was putting up the tent, our daughter noticed there were locks on all the garbage cans.  She became concerned.  “I know PEOPLE aren’t getting into the garbage,” she said.

     I was also concerned, because I’m extremely sensitive to marauding bears, especially those marauding at my campsite; a little hokey-pokey, maybe; but marauding, no.

     As soon as we bedded down, I began wishing for my own garbage can with a locked lid over my head.  Lying nestled in my sleeping bag, I felt like a Philly cheesesteak.  I was just hoping bears didn’t like cheesesteaks. 

     “Aren’t we supposed to hang food in a tree, away from bears?” Connie asked.

     “There wasn’t enough rope for all of us,” I answered.  “Besides, I can’t sleep hanging in a tree.”

     I remembered the admonition to remain in my car if I saw a bear.  “What happens if I see a bear while curled up in my sleeping bag?"  I wondered.  Would he let me go sit in the car to watch the hokey-pokey?  I knew if there was any marauding, I wanted to watch it in my rear view mirror.  

     The next day I was exhausted.  I had to drive with one eye because the other eye had stayed open all night, watching for bears. I was thankful none of the animals I had seen that night matched the picture in my billfold.

      About mid-day, we stopped at a nice hotel.  I had to rest the eye I had been using to drive.  As I was falling into a deep slumber, I finally realized we would never make it into the “Who’s Who of Camping, but I was certain we qualified for the “Who’s Not of Camping.” 


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