I knew that bugs, snakes and darkness are commonly associated with camping. But I’m not much of a Barbie doll. It sounded like a lot of fun.
During daylight hours my life as a camping woman was going pretty darn well.
My man cooked like a pro, and I discovered that washing dishes outside is a lot more enjoyable than washing them in a boring sink.
Oh yeah. Camping was a piece of cake.
By the time the sun went down my attitude was on the shaky side of sunny.
With fake nonchalance I tried to sound like I barely noticed my limbs turning blue.
“It’s a little bit chilly,” I said softly.
Secretly, I was bracing for all 10 of my purple pigs to fall off each of my feet.
My man would later tell the story of my frost bite, always adding, “That Sherri, she is a true pioneer gal.”
When I mentioned the cold though, he was engrossed in his book. So he barely looked up while he said, “According to weather reports, it’s supposed to get down in the fifties every night all weekend.”
“Well buddy, you’d better read that book as fast as you can,” I thought to myself. “If we run short on firewood, that novel of yours will accidentally on purpose go up in flames.”
With extra blankets and sleeping bags, I made myself a bedtime cocoon and fell asleep with one palm protecting my glacierizing nose.
Long after midnight I was suddenly wide awake, living the worst possible nightmare.
I had to pee.
My bladder weighed as much as a VW Beetle.
Slowly, I leaned forward and felt around in the darkness for the zippered door. Somehow a few strands of my hair got caught in the zipper. But I was already in too much of a panic to be even a little bit patient.
I had to pee in what felt like subzero temperatures in a place where the darkness was unbelievable. I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face.
Did I care about sporting a little bald spot due to the mishap with the dumb zipper? Nooooo.
Oh well, sometimes a pioneer woman has to do what is most uncomfortable and also unattractive.
It seemed like my life as a woman in the wilderness was going to begin with toe loss and that bald spot over by my left ear.
It seemed that I would only avoid monsters outside the tent by peeing inside the tent, on a bag of extra clothing.
Thankfully, my hero with a flashlight showed up and escorted me to pee.
The next couple of days got fun again.
On the last night of camping at 3:30 a.m. my eyes were again wide open.
Why did I hear drums?
Once again, I found myself shivering and crawling over to that dreaded zipper door to check on the world outside.
A handful of people were singeing their eyebrows around a huge fire as they pounded on drums.
From eavesdropping on their chatter I discovered their plan to greet the sun by drumming until dawn.
When other campers tossed around ideas about what else could be done with the drums, their plan got much more quiet.
I loved camping. I am ready to go again anytime!
I just hope that next time I can hear rain on the tent.
I love storms as much as I love adventures!