August Camping Adventures, Part 2: Dreadfully Unprepared

Some background:

1.           We are always ALWAYS unprepared.  For everything.  Even when we think we’re prepared.

2.          We’re camping minimalists.  Well, my husband is, and so I am forced to be.  And because we don’t have an SUV or minivan, well…space, or lack thereof, rules.  That means washing old and small aluminum plates and cups, instead of toting paper plates.  That means small camping chairs.  That means no beach toys.  That means 10 days with the same towel.  That means taking the tiny camp stove apart each time to transport it.  That means re-using instead of disposables.  How eco, you might say.  How quaint.  Truth is, even to get our minimalist gear into a Jetta wagon, it’s like a nightmare 3-D jigsaw puzzle.  To grab lunch on the road or a snack out of the cooler, we have to unpack and repack every time.

3.          Here is a picture of our car, packed to the gills, to prove my point.

It gets really good mileage, our car.  We might even save money on vacations, what with camping vs. hotels, re-use of our aluminum plates, and lower fuel costs.  If only it weren’t for the ice cream.  I looked at our credit card bill for the month, and we spent $53.72 in ice cream.  I kid you not.

I was bound and determined not to be unprepared this time.  After all, we had two days to prepare, my husband would be home during that time, and everyone could chip in.  We bought an extra tent, some new and nicer camping chairs, and a real air mattress and pump.  We cleaned out the camping box and replaced old items and added in fresh bug spray, fresh kitchen towels, fresh sunscreen, an all-purpose iron pot and some decent utensils.  We would pack up the car the evening before, and be all set to go early Saturday morning.

Trouble is, life got in the way, and we forgot about getting the house ready to be empty for 10 days, and we wanted some down time before getting on the road for so many hours, and our itinerary kept changing and changing…and on Saturday morning, we were bickering and unpacking and repacking the car, eliminating items, stacking towels and pillows in the space between the two backseat passengers, complaining about who forgot to buy ice for the gigantic cooler.

To say that my niece was a good sport was an understatement.  In my previous post, I admitted my fondness for the creature comforts (OK, really what matters most to me is just a real mattress and indoor plumbing, preferably closer than 50 feet away).  At 17, I would have been unbearably miserable, and probably would have made everyone else feel so too by the end of the trip.  But Aude seemed to bear up well to whatever new thing she encountered.  Starting out two hours late, complete with requisite bickering?  No problem.  Eight hours in the back of a small car with a 10-year-old?  “I’m getting used to long distances” was her response.  First night having to learn how to put up a tent in the dark with clouds of mosquitoes swarming and no light, since we forgot to replace the mantle on our ancient gas lantern?  All smiles, and how do I put up the tent, and please pass the bug spray.

The first night was spent in a campground in central Michigan.  Sites were small, but it seemed to be the party campground; the guy who brought us our wood had been spotted earlier wearing a balloon hat and carting kids on a wagon ride; there was a potluck and a DJ.  We just wanted to set up and get food. Aude’s aim to speak only English dissolved into us barking orders to each other in French.  As my husband understands somewhat my camping aversion, we have come up with a mutually agreeable distribution of labor:  he sets up the tents while I make a fire and prepare food.  Or dig something out of the cooler to make sure we don’t starve, which is closer to the truth.  We finally sat down to sandwiches and a makeshift veggie salad at 10:30. Exhausted, we sat around the fire until way too late, and Aude learned how to avoid scorching the bottom of her shoes on the campfire ring while chatting with us about her future life plans.

And then, comes the unprepared part.  You see, we didn't even think to look up the weather forecast.  Nope.  My husband and I would share a light comforter if needs be, but he had the idea he would get by on a thin wool blanket.  It's August!  It's hot!  Except when it's 48 degrees at night.  We spooned and shivered, thankful that at least the kids had thick sleeping bags.  We would need to stop at a store to get more protection from the elements.

We had to pack up at warp speed in the morning in order to make our scheduled stop in Mackinaw City.  We found a welcoming campground there, right on the beaches of lake Huron, with a nice camp store, pool, and hot showers.  We walked in Mackinaw City, found a camp store, and bought a sleeping bag.  We caught the tail end of a Native American Trading post reinactment.  We went back to the campsite late in the afternoon; the kids managed to enjoy the pool and Patrice and I went for a walk on the beach.  We had cold beer, night wildlife, a tiny-but-enjoyable campfire.  And I actually managed to make the camp stove produce a pasta-spinach-feta dish I invented on the spot.  If we bathed ourselves in bug spray, life was good.  We would set off for Mackinac Island the next day.

If we could get all the stuff back in the car to drive to the dock, that is.