In the last two weeks, we have become a camping family.
I didn’t grow up in a camping family. In the infamous words of my mother, “Why would I take all my regular work to a less convenient place?” I, too, never understood the appeal of getting all the gear, packing, planning, and meal prep just to sleep on the ground and pee in the woods. Then you pack it all back up and come home to five loads of laundry that all smell like smoke. What a vacation.
Conor grew up in a camping family and has many fond memories of boy scout trips and hiking in Philmont. This is why the boat was the perfect middle ground—we could travel and adventure, but all our stuff came with us. Since moving back to the PNW, Conor has embraced the hiking and outdoor lifestyle again. He wants to recreate experiences with the kids and, you know, ensure their survival during an apocalypse. Considering the fact that I am unable to light a fire and lack even a basic internal sense of direction, I told him that if the zombies come to just leave me where I fall. However, he insisted it is not too late for me and blah blah something about “formative memories for the children”. Hence, our back-to-back camping weekends.
This was the car for three adults and two children:
Three adults? Our wonderful friend Corri came with us on what was admittedly an ambitious first camping trip. When she was visiting us back in December, after one whiskey too many, Corri booked a single night at a campsite in the Hoh Rainforest for Memorial Day weekend. Corri lives in Florida.
Logistics aside, we were bound and determined to pull this off. By this, I mean a 4-hour car ride to the Olympic National Park, a 2-hour wait outside the Hoh rainforest, screaming kids who refused to go to bed until 10pm, and a vomit incident on the way home the next day. But damn, if it wasn’t the most magical place I have ever seen. Full-on fairytale. And suddenly, I started to ‘get it’.
I thought it might have been a fluke, so I went into Conor’s birthday camping trip the next weekend with hopeful trepidation. A sunny, gorgeous visit to Dash Point with my bestie Kelly and her fiancée Arlyne, where the kids played at the beach and in the woods, where they went to bed at a reasonable hour, and where we spent the rest of the evening laughing and drinking by the fire under the stars.
Not that it was completely smooth sailing (heh). After all, there are no vacations with kids, only trips. But I think these trips are more important than I realized.
Love,
Taylor
Cannons to Cruising 