WHO'S NOT OF CAMPING? - Segment 5 (Scroll down for previous segments)


      After returning to our campsite, I thought I would light our lantern and relax with a good book.   

      I had borrowed the lantern from my uncle.  He had explained in detail how to light it.  Then he said, “It’s really very simple; a six year old could do it.”  So I skipped the details, and struck a match to light the wick.  It wouldn’t light.  I tried another match; nothing; another; nothing.  I looked for a six year old, but there were none around.  I pushed, twisted, and prodded anything that could be pushed, twisted, and prodded.

     With the futile strike of every match, I started talking to the lantern.  The lantern remained silent.  I struck another match… nothing.  I turned up the volume.  My son thought this was possibly better than my tree talk routine.  Then I looked up and saw other campers, along with several marmots, starting to move in for a look. I could sense I was, once again, becoming the entertainment.  Connie and the kids had taken shelter in the van.  They were peering out the windows, hoping the people wouldn’t think we were related.

     After a book of matches, I finally succeeded in lighting the lantern.  It was lighting overkill.  The entire lantern was engulfed in flames.  I shouldn’t have been surprised.  Most of my fires exhibit a complete lack of control---possibly the reason my wife doesn’t trust them.  Fearing the fire would jump a nearby creek and torch several thousand acres, thereby landing me as the feature story on the national news, I sprang into action.  I sprang onto the table and “danced with flames.”   

     With quick action, I managed to stomp out the fire before it burned the picnic table to the ground and spread through the campground, looking for the nearby creek.  Once again, I had given everyone an entertaining evening with my camp routines.

     As the ovation died down, I gave a few guttural sounds and resigned myself to a night without reading by the lantern.

     We eventually worked our way home, and waited for a call from the President, inviting us to the White House.

     We had now done tent camping and van camping.  Surely, we were getting closer to being enshrined in Who’s Who of Camping.

 

      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.”

 

 

To be continued...check back soon