Camping season is upon us and whether you camp in a tent, a pop-up trailer or an RV, doing your homework in advance will be key to creating happy memories. There are, however, right ways – and perhaps just plain “better” ways — to go about this.
My family has been camping for more than a decade. That makes us almost professional campers, doesn’t it? It’s fair to think we’d have it all dialed in by now. But then is there any camping trip three trips to Walmart (there’s always a Walmart) and $300 can’t fix?
Why yes, there is! Take, for example, the trip my husband, Matt, and his friend, Steve, embarked on recently in which they planned to fish and explore the wild and majestic Lake of the Ozarks. Many, many weeks of planning went into that trip. They googled this, binged that, mapquested the other thing. Google Earth assured them beyond a doubt they were about to commence on a journey on which they would become one with nature, living for a period of four days on the wooded shores of one of the most pristine bodies of water there is. In fact, it was most miraculous they were even able to obtain such a coveted spot on that lake. Surely, the camping Gods were smiling down upon these two Sons of Nature and nodding their heads in approval.
Soon the packing began. Shorts, T-shirts, sandals, fishing rods and other gear – even sunscreen – was packed into duffle bags and backpacks. The weatherman promised sunshine and 75-degree weather. They could hardly believe their luck!
Another week came and went. There was story-telling and long farewells. Among them, a visit to my parents. My dad was particularly enthralled by the idea of a trip to the Lake of the Ozarks, and he wanted to make sure his son-in-law had done his homework. He asked, “Did you write a letter to the Chamber?” We were amused by the question. Seriously. Who would send a letter when there is all-knowing Google? No, Dad. Not necessary. It’s all covered. We’ve got this.
The next day they were on the road at 4 a.m. and 12 hours later they pulled into town. The weather was cold and rainy. My husband’s stomach turned. Lake of the Ozarks boasts a clean and wholesome setting, but the scenery instead was one of bars, strip-clubs and trash scattered like boils festering on the face of a once-beautiful landscape. Oh well, at least there’s always fishing, right? Matt’s stomach turned again. Was it something he ate?
When Matt and Steve finally arrived at their reserved campsite, my husband noticed two things. First, that queezy feeling in the pit of his stomach hadn’t left but had in fact grown worse, spreading to what he recognized were indeed flu symptoms. Second, the lake site the camping Gods had bestowed upon them was not a lake at all. At least not at the moment. To their astonishment, they had purchased a four-day view of a sea of muck, orphaned flip-flops and abandoned empty oil containers. The lake they had driven through three states to fish on had been drained, along with their hopes for fishing.
Matt and Steve toughed it out those four days — Matt with the flu. The sun never came out, and the rain poured so much it could’ve filled that drained lake. But, it didn’t. The morals of this story?
• There are some camping trips three trips to Walmart and $300 can’t actually fix.
• Never trust the weatherman.
• One way to appreciate your own bed more than you ever thought you could is to endure the flu for four days in a pop-up camper 650 miles away from home.
• Yes, dad, sorry, you were right. The advice attained from a human being compared to Google can be a thousand times more valuable and, in certain situations, may even warrant a letter to the Chamber. It could save you from catching flip-flops with your fishing rod in a drained lake.
