When we returned home from camping Saturday night, I cut up a watermelon, made a big salad, put out a bowl of cherries, and cooked a Pesto Pizza (Trader Joe’s) for the fam.
One thing I don’t like about camping is the lack of fresh fruits and vegetables. Maybe someone more clever or more prepared than I would’ve come up with a way to pack watermelons or grapefruits. But the fresh fruit I packed, bananas, got mushy and brown before we even hit the campsite.
Any time I travel, I try to eat healthy, yet making hot dogs and S’Mores just seems easier and more fun at the campfire. I’ve got to work on this.
The other downside in terms of my health in the summer is that I don’t mean to get a tan and with my history of Basal Cell Carcinoma, I definitely shouldn’t. But I do.
I apply sunscreen early in the day and then fail to reapply. I’m just too lazy or uninterested. At the beach, inertia sets in.
Yesterday I bought a long-sleeved SPF waterproof shirt. I hope that helps. It was expensive ($50), but then, so is skin cancer.
I took the darlings camping to Fire Island this weekend. We got there via subway, commuter rail, a ferry ride and a long walk.
We left NYC on a crowded, rush-hour Long Island
Railroad. Four hours later, we were sitting around a picnic table near our tents, listening to singing birds in a bush and roasting S’mores.
As I pushed our canvas cart through Penn Station, (Deliver me not into Penn Station!) balancing backpack and toppling cooler , one of my darlings said, “You look like a homeless woman.” Knowing Lorenza Andrade Smith who is beautiful, kind and homeless, I took this remark to be a badge of honor.
In my own defense, we used or ate every single thing we brought. Admittedly, the journey to the campsite was not as much fun as the experience at the campsite.
Once there, the best parts were:
the empty early morning beach
watching my son go for a run on the beach
diving into the frigid Atlantic on a steamy day. And once in the wave, having that momentary panic of not knowing which way was up!
a cold shower in the communal bathhouse
seeing the antlers of a deer emerge under the boardwalk
in the shine of our flashlight, catching a glimpse of a fox running from our site
on the middle-of-the-night bathroom run, meeting a father and son with lanterns who followed a toad wherever it led
The worst parts were:
Nature is incredible
You don’t need your iPhone to be happy (the kids left their phones at home!)
My kids are awesome
We need each other
We can lean on each other
The whole camping experience had an Outward-Bound bonding experience for the four of us. We were resourceful. Of course, the kids bickered, which usually drives me crazy, but they also engaged in long conversations and activities, such as counting one another’s mosquito bites, which I think, numbered 72. Seriously. (And we were using strong insect repellent!)
As usal, we couldn’t have done it without our friends.
The aforementioned Lorenza Andrade Smith who inspired us to camp
Our church’s Boy Scout troop and the Scout Mistress Louisa Anderson who lent us the three tents
Joanna Parson who encouraged us and was going to join us but instead got theater work and gave us her campsite (So we had bedrooms and a dining room/kitchen)
Maybe life is like camping — a lot of work, a lot of fun, and too much sun.