Sipping Starbucks: An Exploratory Session featuring Rayla and Brittany: My Favorite Camping Trip

Topic: Rayla wants me to write about my favorite camping trip

Author’s Note: You must excuse our lack of columns the last two weeks, my sisters have been very busy with school.

Let me begin by dictating my definitions of camping, since this word means something different depending upon who you ask. “Real Camping” can be defined as the act of shoving everything that you desire to bring with you into backpack, preferably rainproof, and hiking to a location that looks great to pitch a tent, but ultimately also has some major flaw that goes unnoticed until the next morning when you wake up. Peeing in the forest is also included in this definition, as well as becoming one with the mosquitoes and chipmunks, the latter of which enjoy stealing food, which is extremely funny if they happen to carry away an entire sleeve of your dad’s favorite food, fig newtons. “Fake Camping” is any act of leisure that involves a trailer, a vacuum, a building within walking distance that contains a shower and toilet facilities, and something never, ever found in Real camping, a mom. “Semi-Fake camping” is camping with a tent in a campground. At least with Semi-Fake Camping one is sleeping on the ground and depends on the fire for warm food. Or a Coleman stove.

Needless to say, my favorite camping trips have both been Real Camping, even though I haven’t had many trips that would fall under that classification. My favorite Real Camping trip took place way back in the 90’s, when my brother was still healthy enough to hike. Actually, I believe this is the only time that we ever went Real Camping with Evan. Anyways, I was about 8 or 9 years old and we hiked about two or so miles into Dorothy Lake (I don’t quite remember where this is, somewhere in the Cascades). With me were my sister, brother, Dad, and Grandpa John. No moms or grandmas in sight J. I remember this trip for both the really fun times, and the fact that I was injured or sick the entire 3 days.

When we first arrived to the lake, I naturally had to walk into the water. Stepping onto a really slippery rock, my 8 year old klutzy self did not see the error of my ways, and I of course slipped and sliced a nice big hole on the inside of my right foot, right where my big toe rubs up against my hiking boots. Even mole skin couldn’t relieve that pain. This made the next day’s hike to a waterfall extremely painfully, not to mention the hike back to the car the day after that.

But that’s not all. That night, as I am unfortunately prone to do, I got a migraine. A migraine bad enough that I was throwing up all night. I don’t remember if my Dad had packed any Tylenol, but having the mother I do, I’m sure she put a few doses into the medical kit. That night was absolutely miserably, filled with barfing and a toe that was throbbing in pain. My brother and sister, however, did not feel my pain and rejoiced over the fact that they would get to sleep that night in Grandpa’s tent, with Grandpa, who was just about the coolest person ever in our little kid minds (and never fear, he still is).

Despite the bad omens I was experiencing, I thoroughly enjoyed the trip. I even remember that we had a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs, and Malt-o-Meal the next morning and I can even picture where we all were sitting while we were breaking fast. I wish I could tell you many more trips like these followed, but they didn’t. Having a brother with cancer, not to mention a mom who does not enjoy being cold or sleeping on the ground, definitely makes it hard to plan trips such as these. We had a lot of good times on Fake Camping trips, though, trips I wouldn’t trade for anything, even if they aren’t Real Camping.

My second favorite camping trip would have to be the climb up to Camp Muir on Mt. Rainer that I did two summers ago with my sister and dad. That, however, will be a separate column. SUSPENSE!