Caveboy Monday: How Not to Go Camping

Now that summer is upon us and the great outdoors beckon to us to come and revel in her beauty I thought perhaps an instructional series was in order. 

It would have been middle to late March 1980, a Saturday if memory serves me correctly, kind of a gray overcast uninspiring day.  I had stayed behind at the dorm whilst my roommate and several friends had embarked on an overnight camping trip at a state park about 50 miles from campus.  Having convinced myself that I needed to study and really didn’t have the money to fund the trip, I bid them bon voyage and settled in to read some American history and watch a little television.

Later that afternoon, around 3 o’clock a knock on my door woke me from a semi conscience state.  I answered and was informed that two good looking girls were requesting my presence in the lobby.  I proceeded with all due haste (as good looking girls asking for me was about as rare as a 19 year old virgin at a NASCAR race).  To my surprise it was the sister of one of the earlier departed campers and her roommate, and they were indeed good looking (note: I have secretly been madly in-love with the sister from the first day I met her).  They were on a quest to find the brother and others to join the merry band of revelers for the weekend.  When asked if I knew their location, I indicated that I did, and proceeded to give them directions.  Now before you ask yourselves “Is this guy nuts? “”Why isn’t he volunteering to personally guide them?”  Remember I had convinced myself that I needed to study and I was broke, ok?  Well after I had gotten about 30 seconds into the directions, they asked “Why don’t you come with us and show us how to get there?”  I repeated the aforementioned rationale for staying, and did a miserable job of convincing myself.  Then they repeated their request, but this time included “We have beer and fireworks!”  “Be back in a minute with a sleeping bag and my coat!” was my reply. 

They did in fact have beer.  Somehow they had managed to squeeze five cases of Strohs 12 ounce bottles into the back seat of a 1971 VW bug, and the forward storage area was indeed filled with some industrial grade fireworks.  I threaded my way into the back seat and we were off.

No my friends don’t think that was the end of the story, also don’t think that it magically transformed into an episode that you read about in the  “Forum” letters in “Penthouse” magazine, with one hand when you were a teenager.  Way short of that, but an adventure none the less.  Now let us continue. 

Knowing only the general direction and not the exact location of our earlier departed revelers, but feeling extremely confident that I could “get the lay of the land” once we were close, I readily volunteered to navigate our merry band to the final destination.  The first 40 or so miles passed without incident.  Oh yes, we were having a high old time, literally, and were soon close to our final destination. 

Twilight had begun to descended upon us and it was very much hard to “get the lay of the land” in the fast approaching darkness.  My friend’s sister mentioned that her brother said that they would be camping by the river, under a bluff.  Well that should be easy I surmised, as we were already by the river with limited choices as to roads that would get us down to the river bank. 

Part 2 Next Week

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caveboy out