During the hibernating years of COVID in the early 2020’s we discovered the opportunity to get away and off the grid was by purchasing some camping equipment. We reserved sites in primitive wilderness settings with granite boulder outcroppings amid aspen and ponderosa forests. The Rocky Mountains rise in the distance.
We depended on what we brought with us meaning food, water, and supplies. In the beginning we forgot many things considered essential to “sleeping rough” but began making lists and fine tuning our gear before packing for a night or two get-away. (High Winds is a story of early camping mishaps.)
Three years ago, we were gifted a large 6-person tent with a door you could walk through. This came via friends who were moving overseas and downsizing possessions left behind. For two tall people, we were hooked on the idea of walking in, standing, and sitting inside a tent instead of crawling in on all fours. Plus, lots of room for a small game table and personal gear.
Then my husband took a job with the Department of State just as COVID retreated. When he came home to work remotely, or visit, we did other activities with family and friends, but not wilderness camping. This summer he is back in Colorado full time.
When grandchildren, ages 7 and 6 came to stay with us for a week, sans parents, we decided to take them on an overnight camp-out for one night. After all, we had that big old tent lying in the garage and four sleeping bags. The children were excited, because as Sloan said, “I’ve NEVER in my whole life slept in a bean bag.” She was corrected several times before learning there is clearly a difference between bean bags and sleeping bags.
Tent Trials
The sister/brother duo were in day camp during the week at the local YMCA of the Rockies, three miles from our home. It was a great success. They learned many songs with gestures and dance moves that were repeatedly performed for us.
Mark and I decided that the camping trip would occur on the last day of the week after picking the kids up from the “Y”. As it turned out we were wise to move everything out to the site at noon to assemble things before retrieving them at 3:00PM. That big tent had only been set up by us one time, with the owner present, when we received it. There were no instructions. There were only bags of things. Many sizes of poles, mis-matched stakes, and a daunting rain fly that we finally mastered at the end.
The small plastic ground cover from our own 4-person tent was what we had to use as a base. The weather appeared to be clear enough, but the mountains often surprise. The first challenge was that with no instructions and no remembrance of how the dang thing went together; we had to engineer our way through figuring out which pieces went where to get it standing. It took 2 1/2 hours!
With more than a bit of frustration and some selective vocabulary, patience prevailed.
I left to pick up the children while Mark assembled pads, laid out sleeping bags, and organized the cooking equipment for supper. When we got back, he had discovered a hole on the side of the tent large enough for insects or rodent-like ground creatures to enter freely. He drove home for duct tape. (Now on our list of must haves.)
At first, the children were clearly out of their element. It was a strange wilderness environment. They wanted to sit at the picnic table and play “Go Fish” with the cards I brought. After one game, I suggested they follow a path up the hill through some boulders and go “explore things” so they could come back and tell me about it. They started out cautiously, but the possibility of adventure and discovery made them stronger together.
After a while, I couldn’t hear voices anymore and started calling, “Can you hear me? Please respond, so I know where you are.” They did. And eventually found their way back to the campsite by a different route. How perfect.
Dinner was hamburgers on the camp stove, and they were delicious. Then there were rocks to pick up and sort, and gopher holes to poke sticks into or fill up with rocks.
As dusk descended, we settled them into cozy sleeping bags and told them to talk themselves to sleep as we were just outside sitting by the picnic table. We would join them later.
There was much talking and giggling and peeking out the tent door to see what we were doing and if we were still there. By 9:30 it was dark. We entered the sleeping-bag-lined-tent-castle, and everyone settled down quickly.
The Storm
One hour later, I awoke to all four sides of the tent billowing in and out with fierce, roaring high winds. A squall line was moving through. I watched the wall where Sloan was sleeping drop completely down on top of her sleeping bag before it popped back up. She woke and sat up, as did Mark. We looked at each other thinking, “Should we go to the car?” Isaac remained unaware as only a child can amid gale force winds. He didn’t move the entire time.
Sloan and I switched places because the wall on her side was pulsating wildly. We held hands and waited. Then, after half an hour, almost as suddenly as it began, the wind slowed and stopped. We were both still awake when she said, “Can I move back to my sleeping bag because I like it better?” She did. Storms end. The night passed uneventfully thereafter.
Patience prevailed for a second time that day.
In the morning, as we packed up after breakfast and Cribbage games and playing with piles of discarded ice from the cooler, there was a dual refrain, “Can we do this again next year for TWO nights?”
Camping Updated
The next weekend brought 50% off Fourth of July sales at REI–the Mecca of USA camping and outdoor gear. An easy decision followed: out with the old, in with some new.
A stand-alone-six-person tent was purchased with pop-together poles, heavy-duty stakes, and a substantial rain fly alcove. It had visual instructions. The mummy sleeping bags from decades ago were switched out for something roomier for grownups who like to move, roll over, and change positions frequently during the night.
We were ready for a renewed camping life. Winter and summer droughts brought “Open Fire Bans” throughout the Rocky Mountains. Although used to that after two years of dry weather and forest fires, we wanted to get back in the woods, even forgoing morning and evening campfires.
I booked two days and nights in a new campsite for us that was remote and beautiful in the way we love. Trees, views, shade, and trails. The afternoon we set out began in light drizzle. When it diminished or stopped (briefly), we attempted to set up camp only to be driven back into the Jeep by a downpour. Several times we laid down the tarp, staked it, and then hurriedly folded it back up.
We played Cribbage on the car console in the front seats. Mark made me a Gin & Tonic in a tin cup. We watched drops roll down the windows and listened to rain beat on the car roof. And waited. Even deliberated about going home to try the next day.
But then the light began to look brighter in the west, so we sat and watched the sky. And waited some more. Eventually, a bit of sun poked through the clouds.
Camp set up easily with the new open sky tent and a rain fly we would surely need. Chili supper was consumed before sundown. A final Cribbage game with a glass of wine. As we tucked in, the rain began in earnest, off and on throughout the night. We were snug and dry.
I awoke to the sound of coffee percolating on the camp stove and sun shining through tall pines to the east. With tin cup in hand, I walked around some boulders and down a ravine, soon realizing there was nothing but acres of Larimer County Open Space behind our campsite. Sat on a sunny rock to finish my coffee under cloudless lapis skies.
At midnight the second night when I went outside, the full moon was bright, so I snapped a picture through pine boughs. When I woke again, the moon had shifted to the west and there were lovely leaf play silhouettes on the wall and ceiling above my head.
After breakfast, before packing up, we looked at each other over a final cup of coffee, grateful that patience triumphed over frustrating beginnings, turbulent storms, and incessant rain.
We know we can out wait many things to enjoy a perfectly fine getaway.
Photo gallery of how they grow
“Everything that was to happen had happened and everything that was to be seen had gone. It is now one of those moments when nothing remains but an opening in the sky and a story–and maybe something of a poem.“
–Norman MacLean, “USFS 1919”, from A River Runs Through It and Other Stories
