happy camper

This weekend, I had the opportunity to learn about outdoor education, Girl Scout-style. Not just from perusing a manual or listening to a trainer teach a class, but a hands-on lesson. Yes, I went camping.

I have never really been one to fully enjoy all that a camping trip entails: the lack of a fully functional bathroom facility, the sleeping on the cold ground, the bugs, the dirt. I do love the campfire, the food cooked over the open flame, the fresh air filling my lungs and the sound of the breeze blowing through the trees. I found all of this, and so much more, on my weekend excursion to Camp Mah-Kah-Wee.

The journey began before dawn, when I crawled out of my snug bed to finish packing and preparing. My friend Wendy came to pick me up in her van, and we were on our way. We were looking forward to spending the weekend together, even if it had to be in a tent. The weather forecast wasn't very favorable, and we drove through heavy fog and mist on the way to the facility. When we arrived, we unloaded all of our gear and checked in. At that point, we found that we had been split up; I was to hike to one campsite, she to another, on opposing ends of the campground. We were unhappy at this development, at the prospect of having to bunk with strangers.

As I hauled my bags over the trail, I walked behind three ladies, with whom I struck up a conversation. They had come together, had managed to stay together, and they invited me to be the fourth in their tent. They were very welcoming, and I felt the awkwardness melt away. We finally reached the campsite, found an unoccupied platform tent, claimed our cots, then checked in to the Scout house. We settled in, ready to learn from the trainers, one of them having been in Girl Scouts for more than 40 years. They were full of great information and experience, and shared both with us throughout the two days.

There were 40 ladies staying at the same campsite as I: Racoon Run. Many of us had been split from friends, and many were not, but the trainers had another surprise up their sleeves. We played a game called Barnyard Bedlam, in which we were randomly given a small token with the image of a farm animal on it. We were to close our eyes and walk around, while making the sound of our chosen animal. Mine was a pig. Soooo, I closed my eyes and oinked, bumping into other ladies who were also making fools of themselves. I hooked arms with my fellow swine, and dismissed those who were baa-ing, moo-ing, or clucking. I had a lady on either side and was laughing hysterically and yelling "OINK", when the trainer told us to stop; we were in our groups, so we could open our eyes. The first thing I saw was another woman, standing right in front of me, looking at me as if I were crazy. Seems that we had been in our group for several seconds, and only I and one other piggy were still behaving as if we were sows. Oops.

These four groups of 10 women each were our new patrols, which meant we were to learn and work together to get tasks accomplished. We headed back inside to reshuffle our seating arrangements, forcing us to split up even further. My three bunkmates were in different groups, so I knew that if Wendy and I had been able to stay together, we most likely would have been separated at this point, anyway. We all settled in to learn the first of many lessons, including camping preparation from planning to evaluation, which is quite a lengthy process.

Unfortunately, we somehow fell far behind. Before we knew it, it was well after noon, and we still hadn't eaten lunch. This posed quite a dilemma, due to the fact that we were to cook our food over fire, but hadn't yet learned how to build or maintain this fire. By the time we were educated on this skill, our lunch had been pushed back to 4pm. We were understandably grumpy, and took matters into our own hands, starting our dinner prep while keeping the fire burning. The dish was to cook for 90 minutes, and we were all in agreement that we'd like to eat before bedtime.

As our dinner boiled and bubbled over the hot coals, we were greeted by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Another trainer had run to tell us that we were to immediately remove the dutch oven, put out our fire, and batten down the hatches. A storm was coming, and we were given 30 minutes to gather our valuables and hike to the safety of the lodge. We went into action, unaware of the severity of the situation: this storm had produced tornadoes, hail, strong winds, and blinding rain.

We gathered with all of the camp's 100+ occupants, and I was reunited with my friend Wendy. The storm thundered and the lightning flashed as we sang songs, ate pizza, and performed skits, which we were to have done around the nightly campfire. Two hours later, we were told that the worst of the storm had missed us, had actually split into two storms, and both had gone around us. We felt blessed, which helped to ease the bitterness over having missed the traditional s'mores around the campfire.

After donning our ponchos and hiking through puddles and muck, we made it back to our campsite, where we found our lukewarm supper waiting for us. We munched on it a bit, learned how to tie knots, and were finally released to retire to our beds. The weather forecast was for a cold front to move in, which is usually preceded by strong thunderstorms here in Florida, as the cold northern air collides with our warm air. Even though the storm had passed, it was still relatively warm, and I fell asleep on top of my sleeping bag. I was awakened in the night by more rain, and a chill in the air. I huddled in the warmth of my cocoon, only to wake in the morning to freezing temperatures. The cold front had arrived.

Our second day was spent trying to stay warm as we attempted to absorb as much information as possible about knife safety, wood chopping, and cooking in a box oven, among other things. Suddenly the jobs of fire starter and cook were coveted, and that of the clean-up crew were even more despised, as cold hands met cold water. We made chili and cornbread for lunch, baking the bread in a box oven, over coals. I saw it as a grown-up version of the Easy Bake. One of the other piggy ladies and I were enthralled with this invention. We decided that if our state was hit with another hurricane and we lost power, we could provide our neighbors with comfort foods, such as cakes and breads, all baked in a box. Another of our teammates, who was a bit more cynical, stated, "Oh, yeah, while the contents of everyone's freezers are rotting, you two can bake up a cake!" When we stopped laughing, we enjoyed the fruits of our labors, which was the best meal yet, having been made from start to finish without assistance.

As the sun crossed the sky and began it's descent, we completed our training, carried out our kapers, or chores, and met back at the campfire pit. We participated in a Girl Scout ceremony, during which we all shared what was the most impactful part of the weekend to each of us. Answers ranged from "Learning what to do in case of emergency" to "Working together with people who began as complete strangers and ended up as friends." I commented that I was a bit reluctant coming into the situation, but was excited to tell my troop all about my adventures, and to share a camping experience with them. We sang a song, handed out hugs, and went our separate ways, with promises of emails to be exchanged.

Upon my return home, I soaked in a luxuriously hot shower, bundled up in my new fuzzy robe (thanks, Mom!), and sipped a mug of hot cocoa. I counted my blessings as I watched the Packers and Giants play on the frozen tundra in Green Bay, calculating that it was more than 40 degrees warmer here, before the wind chill was factored in. What had I been whining about?

Today, it's 70 degrees and sunny, with a nice easterly breeze blowing in off the ocean. Figures.