I love to camp. I love the cool night air, the smell of a campfire, and the taste
of s’mores. When I was growing up, my parents would load us in the station
wagon, pack peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and off we would go on grand
adventures.
Camping was safe when I was little. At least it felt safe. I never worried
about hungry bears, bad people or wild storms. I knew that whatever came
up, my parents
would handle it. I was comfortable in their care, without a worry.
All my fierce, womanly courage rose to the
surface.
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As I grew up, things panned out a little differently. I ended up as a single
mom. So when it came to venturing out, putting up the tent and sleeping under
the stars, I was scared. It was just my daughter and me. What if someone came
upon us in the night? Or what if some wild animal happened to like the smell
of my deodorant and proceeded to invite himself into our tent? Or…
So I thought I would wait. I’d wait until I eventually remarried and
had some big, strong, burly guy to protect us.
That lasted a month.
No way!
When I actually realized what I was thinking, all my independent, fierce, womanly
courage rose to the surface. Was I really going to miss out on exposing my
daughter to the joy of camping because of fear? What if I was meant to be single
forever?
Or what if the man I eventually married was a hotel kind of guy? No, it was
time to conquer my fears and head out into the great beyond.
The first thing we needed was supplies. Sami and I started a camping jar and
we put all of our pennies inside. I also e-mailed my friends and told them
of our plan. Some had camping equipment they had never used or used only a
few times.
They were more than willing to sell it at a decent price.
We also thought through different menus, easy foods that would pack well
and last for a while. We would definitely be following in my parents’ footsteps:
Peanut butter and jelly, as much as our car could hold.
Next, it was time to think through a destination. We decided that we wanted
to explore the west. I went online and plugged in “Utah,” “Colorado,” “Wyoming.” A
main tourist site would often come up, each offering free information about
its respective state. We put in our address and started checking the mailbox.
Within
10 days we received packets of information.
The opportunities were endless. We could rustle cattle in Montana, ride a mule
to the bottom of the Grand Canyon in Arizona or climb a sheer rock face in
Colorado. We chose the Grand Canyon. We would take 10 full days, explore as
much as possible
and sleep under the Arizona night sky. We were ready!
