The Horrors of the Outdoors
 

I understand the weather for you guys up North is becoming really pleasant, while ours is quickly on its way to becoming intolerable. Just before our beautiful nights give way to a muggy, mosquito-laden hell, I decided to give outdoor camping a try this past weekend.

Yeah, I had never been camping before. Seems odd, but my family never had an interest in it. Working in an office, dealing with computers day in and out, and having a pager practically sugically implanted into my body quickly changes those feelings and I had been day dreaming of pitching a tent in getting in touch with nature for some time. This past weekend had perfect weather, so the quick decision was made to rough it.

Despite the subject line, I have to say it was one of the best times I've ever had! The wildlife witnessed was amazing, from the family of raccoons that swept through the camp while we sat around the fire to going to the lake in the dark with a flashlight to see all the blinking pairs of eyes floating in the water (alligators). The sounds at night were so stereotypical that I thought I might have entered a bad Yogi Bear cartoon: an owl hooting at 3am loud enough to wake everyone, the rumbling of the gators somewhere near the water, and foxes playing in the distance as dawn approached.

The reason for the subject line: when does camping go wrong? What experiences have made camping hell for you? My experience this weekend was ideal, but I know it won't always be like that. What might I expect for future outtings and what precautions should I take?

I went to the Philmont Scout Ranch for a week and a half, and somehow (I still don't know how) I forgot a long sleeve shirt. All I had was a thin windbreaker which did almost nothing when wet. And it was frequently wet.

Of course, the experience as a whole was awesome.

Precautions: Bring appropriate clothing.

I've never had a bad camping experience, though admittedly it's been years since I've gone. I have a bunch of practially new camping gear I'm looking forward to finally using now that my son is old enough to really enjoy it. Problem with living in Colorado is that we have a very narrow window at the beginning and end of the season where camping is a pleasant experience. It seems like the entire country converges upon us during the Summer months, making it really hard to find a nice quiet camping spot. If I ever tried to camp during those prime months, I imagine I would have my first "bad" experience. :)

Just a note: I too have done Philmont. The year was 1990.

what can go wrong camping? Let's see:

Camp in a depression "to avoid the wind"... and realize that "depression=bowl" when the wind turned into rain.

Go camping planning to use a 3 sided tent (basically just a tarp) and have a cold front come in and dump snow across the feet of all in the tent, which promptly melted, making wet bottomed sleeping bags.

Wake up with an unexpected weight on your chest. Open your eyes to find yourself face to face with a skunk.

Be in the same tent as the skunk-finder when they sit up with a start, begin yelling and throwing shoes and anything else handy at the skunk.

Go camping with a someone who hates going camping and has no qualms to tell you how much they hate it.

Be in the same tent as the skunk-finder when they sit up with a start, begin yelling and throwing shoes and anything else handy at the skunk.

Holy hell, how did a skunk get inside the tent?

I'm a little concerned about bad weather, as I know the tent will be able to handle it, but keeping dry just seems very difficult to do. Even starting a fire in the rain seems an impossible trick.

I'm curious to know if anyone has slept under the stars, before. How can you possibly sleep outside with the insects that exist out there? In Florida it would be like a bad movie -- you'd wake up a swollen mass of bites wrapped in webbing.

Re: The Horrors of the Outdoors
 

usually when you have to poop.

having spent 3 months camping/traveling at one time
(tour thread) , and many other trips, I'd say that is the one thing that bothered me. Rain sucks, too. Especially if it lasts for 3 or more days. Proper gear can offset the soggy depression that can result from haviing all of your gear soaked, but even if you are able to keep dry through proper camp planning and equipment, three days of non stop rain can make you go crazy.

This was the same run as the "three sided tent" above, but before the snow started falling... so there was no problem for the skunk.

Oh, and another one:

Go camping with 3000+ people (Pennsic Wars ) where there are plenty of fixed and temporary toilets.. but only 3 shower stalls for each gender.

This was back in.. oh.. '84 or '85 so they've probably upgraded the facilites since then.

I have been going camping since I was about 2 months old. My dad is real big on camping and fishing, so there are at least 6 camping trips a year and at least 12 day trips for fishing. Half the time my dad loads the camper on the truck and the other half the time it is just a tent. Yes the camper is still considered camping, that camper was my grandfathers and doesn't have a bunch of the stuff new campers have. We still have to go to the bathroom out side, and there is no shower. The only thing the camper does is allow for a slightly softer bed. Having been camping so often, I cant remember a time when things went terribly wrong, there have been times where something major went wrong, but it always worked out OK in the end.

On one trip our horse trailer broke it's axle, and we were about 4 hours from any type of civilization. My dad always plans for stuff to go wrong, so he had a tool box and he was able to temporarily fix the axle till we got home.

I remember going for a ride on my dads motorcycle, with my dad, younger sister, and me all on the bike. We got stuck in some quick sand like stuff. We were stuck bad with the wheels buried half way in this sand/gravel mud. We were several miles away from our camp site (and my step mom who was waiting at the camp site). We knew at some point my step mom would get worried but she wouldn't know where to look for us. After a few hours we heard some bikes coming our way and flagged them down. It took 8 guys to pull that bike out of the mud, but we made it back to the camp site just fine.

Kitsune, your talking of an owl reminded me of a camping trip when I was about 8. Sometime in the middle of the night two owls decided to start hooting at each other. The were on opposite sides of our camp ground. So it would be Hoot from the front of the tent, and then 30 seconds later hoot from the back of the tent. This went on for it seemed like an hour. Finally I had had enough of the stupid owls and yelled "Shut Up!!!" My mom started laughing but my grandma decided to lecture me on not yelling in the middle of the night as it might wake up the other campers near by. Right, like the other campers are fast asleep with the stupid hooting owls going on right above everyone. I like owls but not in the middle of the night.

I have slept under the stars a number of times. Yes bugs are a problem. Sometimes if you lay a tarp down under your sleeping bag it helps to keep a lot of the bugs at bay. Otherwise just try not to think about what might crawl into your sleeping bag with you and when you wake up in the morning get out very slowly just in case.

ometimes if you lay a tarp down under your sleeping bag it helps to keep a lot of the bugs at bay.

I was a little more concerned with the flying ones than the crawly ones, but it does sound like a tarp would assist.

Interesting note: the dominant species of mosquito in South/Central Florida does not cause a bump or an itch after they've bitten you. Nice, but they're also the little bastards that spread all the fun diseases, such as encephalitis.

So it would be Hoot from the front of the tent, and then 30 seconds later hoot from the back of the tent. This went on for it seemed like an hour.

Hilarious! I swear they must so it on purpose.

I'll admit that having a camper/RV is not really "camping", but come this summer that will be the only way I'll be out there. My friend drove his RV in and slept in it as he'd been wanting to try it out for months. Must be nice: air conditioning, bathroom, shower, kitchen, etc. It was nice to know it was there in case everything went horribly wrong, but it turned out there was no need for it. I was surprised that in a mixed-site of both RVs and tents that we didn't notice anything from the vehicles -- no generators running (there were hookups) and no exhaust. Besides the amplified owl, I'd say it was a hell of a lot more peaceful than the suburbs. That, and the "community feel" of the campground was very impressive -- everyone was very kind to their neighbors, there were people playing music, and even community pot-luck style dinners.

usually when you have to poop.

Next time I'll be a man and try one of the primitive sites in the middle of the woods and then I'm sure this will be of concern. Right now, some of my equipment is not friendly to hiking (the sleeping bag is way too huge when rolled up).

When I have slept under the stars it has only been in the western states, so I cant say what the Florida bugs will be like. You might be able to erect some sort of net tent, using PVC pipe as a frame or something like that. Maybe a rectangle like frame with the netting over it. Not sure as most the bugs I had to deal with while sleeping under the stars were mosquitoes, and as long as you take a multi B vitamin for a few weeks before you camp, the mosquitoes will leave you alone.

Yeah, pooping outside is no fun. I'd rather not get real graphic, so I'll leave it at that.

On extended trips my dad erects a little tarp like stall using a cluster of trees and rope. We then dig a nice deep hole and then he places this toilet like seat on legs over the hole. The tarps allow for privacy while the toilet seat allows for you to not have to squat. At the end of the trip we fill the hole in and and everything is good to go. I love going camping with my dad, all the years he has been doing it, he has gotten it down to a science.

You might be able to erect some sort of net tent, using PVC pipe as a frame or something like that. Maybe a rectangle like frame with the netting over it.

The tent I have isn't so bad in that you can look up and see the stars through the micro-mesh on the top and sides. This ended up not being possible, thanks to some careful and important thinking ahead: the humidity in the morning caused a lot of dew on the tree above me, which dripped down onto the tent below once condensed in the cool air. The drops were stopped by the tent's raincover that I had put up, as without it the awakening would have been a little damp.



http://fox.org/~vince/photos/out/keltytent.jpg

I was there three or four years ago, and no, facilities haven't changed much from what you describe. There might be one more shower facility, but to get warm water you have to shower at five am. Far better to take a dip in the clothing optional stream and bring a bar of soap.

The rest of the campsite has running water, but it is not potable. In fact, it has some odd mineral content that causes it to turn orange if exposed to the sun.

Pennsic is not typical camping, not by a long shot. I've seen one couple with a king sized bed in their giant 15' diameter ger - a ger being the kind of portable home the Mongols used to live in.

It still counts as roughing it in some ways, as the weather is so variable that you freeze at night and scorch in the day, and the toilet amenities are port-a-johns.

While camping at Pennsic, I saw one campfire with blue, green, and orange flames. Someone from that group had tossed in a copper pipe with some other metal to get that cool effect.

Yes, Pennsic is a camping experience all to itself.

And I forgot to mention that Pennsic is always in August, which is when the Perseid meteor shower makes its showing. I got to sit outside at night and watch an awesome light show!


edit: one typo. And it is the Perseid, not the Pliedies meteor shower as I had originally written

Pennsic Wars sounds a lot like tales I've heard of Lillies War...SCA event, is it?

I've had rather a lot of camping disaster tales, but the most notable would be from my backpack trip into the Sawtooth Mountains in Idaho back in 1984. One of my best friends had moved out there a couple of years prior with his wife, and so my wife, my best friend and myself drove out for a planned five-day backpack to Leggit Lake, just about eight miles uphill from Atlanta, Idaho (an old mining town with a nice campground and hot springs adjacent to it at the trailhead).

As soon as we got out of the car and donned our packs, it began to rain. We put on our ponchos and started off gamely. The rain intensified until it was a deluge, with rivulets pouring down the trail we were climbing. It was entirely unpleasant, and so when we reached a nice plateau with a sizable meadow and easy access to a fork of the Boise River for water, we hurriedly pitched a half-assed camp site, and hunkered down to wait for it to stop.

It did stop by morning, and we awoke bright and early to a beautiful but soggy day. There was nothing for it but to unpack *everything*, make clotheslines and dry stuff out. It was, however, still decidely cool and dampish, and starting a fire turned out to be nearly impossible. We used a whole tube of that waxy firestarting stuff, to no avail. Finally, in frustration, my friend leaped up, grabbed a camp shovel and a frisbee, and ran screaming into the forest.

We didn't know quite what to make of it, until he returned about a half hour later with the frisbee filled with chunks of pine resin he'd harvested from the base of a standing, dead Lodgepole Pine. He dropped a couple of small chunks into the smoldering mass of damp branches, and within moments we had a roaring fire.

We spent a really great day there, having a family of deer sprint right through our encampment and leaping, tabletop BMX style, over our spread-out tarps drying in the now sunny day. As we finished packing up the next day, we heard the sound of a whining vehicle engine in the distance. Now, this is a Wilderness area, and there aren't supposed to be motorized vehicles, but there had been reports of hikers being waylaid and robbed in recent weeks. We quickly took cover, with guns drawn, and waited. After a bit, a big 4 x4 pickup stopped at our site, and so a couple of us guys walked out, weapons holstered, to talk (we left the women in the brush with the guns still at the ready, just in case).

After a bit of conversation, it was clear that the guy was just a miner working a grandfathered claim on his way up to his mine on up the trail (thus, he still had rights to bring equipment in, much to our later chagrin). He was very friendly, and in due course, our women came out from the bushes, holstering their sidearms. The miner didn't miss a beat, glancing over at them, smiling as he said, "Bushwacking, huh?"

Imagine our later embarassment when he gave us several apples, a few cans of pop, and some good advice: "See those marks up on the tree trunks around here? 'Bout twelve feet off the ground or so? Those are claw marks. This is bear country, kids, and you want to be mindful of that." We assured him that we were quite aware; thus, the guns.

"Ya'll are goin' up into some high country here. You want to watch out for thunderstorms. Mountains ain't a good place to be in a thunderstorm."

We thanked him profusely, and he motored on up the mountain. We finished packing, and started on up the first really steep portion of our journey. The trail got worse and worse. We discovered later on that the reason was because the miner's bulldozer had been hard at work widening the trail for vehicle access, and had gotten stuck before he could quite finish. That was part of the reason he was there...to get the Cat running again. There was a lot of fallen timber that he'd pushed over, but hadn't gotten out from across the trail. Big stuff, four, five feet across...big enough that we had to take off our packs and climb over in some cases.

After a couple of hours of plodding, we'd gotten beyond the turnoff to the mine shaft, and got back into walking nicely forested, loamy trail footing. Late in the afternoon, we came into a large, wide valley, actually the lower extent of an ancient glacier whose remnants still awaited us at the level of the lake which was our goal. It was a rough walk to cross it and get back to the wooded area at its Northern fringe, but we finally pulled in, and set up our second camp.

Just as we'd gotten our fire going and started cooking our dehydrated meals, the bugs set in. There was an incredible variety of interesting creatures. My favorite was what we called a "Mars Fly", a red-bodied, robust insect that looked for all the world like a house fly, except three times as large, and with eerie, golden multifaceted eyes. The only thing that this plethora of buggies had in common was that *they all wanted to suck our blood*.

For most, it wasn't such a big deal. The DEET seemed to keep them at bay, but the deerflies were unbelieveable. Some were as big as the distance from my fingertip to first knuckle, and they could actually bite through jeans! We quickly retreated to our tents until the sun set, and the temperature dropped. The creatures then disappeared. When they were gone, you could actually hear how much quieter it was in their absence.

(Coming up later...the rest of the horror story).

No shittin. I think we were there at the same time. It was either 90 or 91 for me, I can't remember.

-sm

I think mine was '90 or '91 as well - could be '92.:beer:

..ahhh camping...about to do that next week.

Last one wasn't much fun...

2 overactive sons
1 tent
2 cold nights
0 sleeping bags (for me)
2 many activities
0 alcohol
2 many other brats running around
0 sleep
1 pair of underware :confused:


prepare carefully

I'm bringing a sleeping bag, earplugs, and extra pairs next week :D :D

Never, ever, ever camp in the Everglades.
At the bottom of the Grand Canyon the pitter patter of little scorpion feet across my body.
Blue Ridge Parkway, on a side hill with a thunderstorm induced creek running through the tent, don't hang a Coleman lantern in the tent with a piece of plastic clothesline rope.
In Maine, don't camp on a moose path.
In CA on the mexican border, don't camp next to a dairy farm (flys).
In Hatteras, don't back off the road onto the sand after dark.
In Laconia, don't cut through the Hells Angels camp.
In Alaska, don't forget the Deet and camp well away from the dirt roads that throw up a 30 foot wall of dust when a truck goes by.
In Montana, don't camp where the valley is narrow enough to make the wind triple speed.
Even a bad motel is a welcome respite, sometimes. Unless someone parks a truck with a lonely lamb under your window.

It was '91.

Idaho Horrors, Part II
 

We were loathe to get out of our tents, because the blood sucking bastards had already started swarming, crawling all over the nylon, but there was little to be done about it. We broke camp, and headed on up the mountain.

Although we had done some conditioning hikes in preparation for this rather ambitious undertaking (I was carrying 60# on my back), the increasing elevation began to take its toll. As the air thinned out, so did the trees. Fortunately, so did the bugs. There was some compensation, though...as the large open areas increased, and the trees decreased, there were vast meadows of wildflowers in riotous bloom. Everywhere you looked, a sea of red, blue, purple, white; spread out in a vista the like of which I have never seen again.

Our goal was only at 8,500 feet elevation, but for a flatlander, that was up where it began to get hard to breathe. The last bit of the hike, up and over the edge of the bowl wherein lay the lake, rose by 800 feet in elevation over a mere 600 feet of forward travel...greater than a 50% grade. It also happened that, as the trek grew more arduous, our water consumption increased, until we were completely out of water with a half mile to go...and the stream along whose valley we had been hiking was by now over 200 feet below the trail, and utterly inaccessible.

Fortunately, my better-conditioned best friend Dan had enough gumption to hurry on ahead, up to the where the remnants of glacier lay, and scoop up enough snow to fill our nearly empty water bottles. I've never had a better drink of water, either before that moment, or since then.

We finally strode up and over the lip, only to turn around and look back from whence we'd come. I have to tell you here and now that I've never been more proud of anything I've ever done. It almost looked like a straight wall we'd come up from the vantage point of the bowl's edge. We could clearly see the glacial plain on whose edge we'd spent the previous night, and it seemed ridiculously tiny and far away.

We were exhausted, but we set up a sturdy campsite, and gathered wood. In the process of attempting to break a large branch off of a fallen pine, weathered white from its exposure on the nearly naked ridge, I leaned, pulled and grunted with all my might, until the brach suddenly snapped clean off, and I fell backward with my full weight. My left arm scraped against a branch stub on the huge log, and ripped a substantial amount of flesh from my forearm. Another two inches to my left, and I would have been wholly impaled on the stub, which was very pointy and threatening.

First aid and whiskey (which tasted like soap...never wash out your plastic hiking bottles with soapy water) fixed me up pretty well, and we spent a really fine evening around a crackling fire, turning in relatively early due to exhaustion. The next morning, my other two male companions decided to scale Leggit Peak, the summit of which was another 900 feet above where we were camped. My legs were like rubber, so I bid them farewell and hunted up more firewood. After a period of time, I heard a faint sound in the near silence, and turned to look up at the top of the peak. I saw them, jumping and waving, small as fleas on a dog, but definitely there. Crazy bastards.

That night, we prepared to feast, and to party, because in the morning, we would be heading back down the mountain and out of the wilderness. I had gathered an enormous quantity of wood (no mean feat as we were right at treeline there, and it was none too plentiful), and we looked forward to a huge, warm fire that night.

The night before had been moonless, and perfectly clear...the blackest sky I have ever seen, and the brightest stars. As it happened, I discovered that you could, in fact, cast a shadow by starlight, something which I had never even considered might be possible before that. This night, though, had been growing ominously cloudy even as the sun was setting, and by nightfall, nary a star was to be seen. Even worse was the fact that the wind was slowly rising, and rumbles of thunder could be heard in the distance.

A storm doesn't sound the same when you're in the mountains. The booms reflect off of countless hard stone surfaces, causing one clap of thunder to sound like dozens - even hundreds - of percussions as each echo reaches your ears at slightly different times. It was intimidating, but exhilirating. We had already lit the fire, and were busily feeding it all the wood we had, but the wind kept rising, so we quickly made even more secure our already well-pitched tents, adding tarps and weighting the bottoms with stone embankments in the direction of the wind.

Spatters of rain began to fall, drops seemingly the size of tennis balls, and we quickly retreated to our shelters. The wind was now a full gale, something on the order of 35-40 mph, I'd guess. The firepit glowed white hot...not yellow, not red, but pure glaring white. A plume of sparks blew fully 35 feet up the stone hillside, making our fire look something like an earthbound comet. The wood was completely exhausted within 15 minutes, and the blaze sputtered out in the now driving rain.

Somehow, through all of this, our tent was staying utterly, completely dry. However, my friend Dan's tent was more of a culvert than a shelter by now, and he grabbed his sleeping bag and dived in with us to ride out the maelstrom. The storm had now come directly upon us, and the lightning and thunder became nearly constant. We could hear lighting strike so near to us that we would then hear rocks skittering down the slope immediately afterward. The ground literally shook beneath us. We were *in* the storm, not under it, and it was frightening beyond my ability to express.

It didn't help things one bit that we shouted to the other couple in the next tent, asking them if they remembered the last admonition of the miner back at our first camp site. I don't know how we managed to sleep, but we did indeed drift off, wondering if we would survive the night.

(Later...the end of the adventure)

Elspode, I don't have many words for your story so far, except: Ho. Lee. Shit. :eek:

That is awesome! :D

Nah - been out of it for a while. The closest surviving group to where we were is the Barony of South Downs in the Kingdom of Meridies.

quote:
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally posted by OnyxCougar

PENNSIC!!

SCA'er in the house!!

What Kingdom are you in?You still play?
------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hung out with the Nation of Arendale of the East Kindom for a while. I was even starting to accumulate a few pieces of armor, but I couldn't get into the full SCA mindset for some reason. Anyone want to buy a slightly used stainless steel bassinet helmet?


OnyxCougar, have you been to Pennsic? Have any stories?

And so it ended...
 

I don't know exactly when the storm subsided. Somehow, all five of us, hunkered down in our marginal shelters, had managed to sleep through the event. I awoke feeling amazingly horny, almost as if something inside me felt the need to procreate before an even more terrifying event befell us. Sadly, my wife refused me (even though Dan had awakened earlier and vacated our tent) on the grounds that some literature we had read before leaving cited bears being attracted to human sexual activity. Of course, we could have seen a bear coming at us for hundreds of feet around (in fact, the imagined attacking bruin would have had to have been quite a swimmer to have approached from most directions), but I let the subject drop.

One of the great things about riding out a storm on a rocky area is that there are no mud puddles to make the morning difficult. All the water had run directly into the lake behind us, and so the morning was freshly washed and sparkling, providing one of those rare tent emergences where you take a single breath and feel more alive and aware than you ever thought possible. We packed up and then set up for a timer photo or two. We lined up five abreast at the crest of the bowl, with the mountains and sky providing a boundless backdrop. The resulting pictures are amongst my most cherished posessions (or rather, they were. My ex has them all), testament to having ventured and risked something real and tangible. These photos are proof that once, I took everything I needed on my back and struck out to be *in* the world, rather than on it. I will never forget the experience as long as I live.

It had taken us three days to get to the top of the mountain. Even without the stopover to dry out on the first day, it would have taken us two. We made the hike back down to the cars in eight hours, and none of us even drained the single one-liter water bottle we each carried. Everything we had seen before, every place we had rested and taken time to absorb went whizzing by, almost as if being played in fast forward. The weather was perfect, the going was easy, and we were nigh on ready to get back to warm showers, soft beds and fast food.

Driving the 70 miles of gravel road back into Boise from Atlanta, we were curiously quiet. Aside from the occasional comment on this mountain, or that mine shaft cut into the stone wall alonside the river, we didn't have much to say. I think we were all absorbing what we'd seen and done, processing just how fragile and insignificant we humans truly are when faced with the uncaring and mighty forces of Nature.

I kept up hiking on a fairly regular basis here in Missouri for several years after that, but as the 90's dawned and my life began to unravel, I stopped, got fat, and have never again been anywhere with my bare needs for survival strapped to my back. I still camp, lugging along my popup complete with TV and PS2, stereo, cell phone, three burner stove, electric fans and lighting, soft comfy bunks, room for my guitar, for our myriad lanterns and lawn chairs and dining pavillion and sun shade...and on and on.

It is wonderful - but it is not profoundly amazing, not in the way that that week in Idaho was. Still, each moment in the out of doors is precious, and it is what forms me, grounds me and fills me with the energies I need to face the rest of the workaday world.

No disaster has yet been too big to put me off of being in the world in some way. I pray that none ever will.

A really wonderful story Elspode. It must have been fantastic! You should get up and do it again the hard way ;)
Since I've been 6 I went hiking with the boyscouts. When I was 18 I went to Inari in Finland for a survival in the everlasting ice. One week with all you need in some sort of sledge you had to pull yourself, walking on snowshoes, sleeping in tents or in snowholes temp : -30C to -15C.
Then when I was 20 I joined the army and that's when the fun begun. Survivals in the desert or in the woods, days of "good" belgian weather (rain, rain, rain). Of with everything (up to 35kg) or with nothing, for one day or ten days. With or without sleeping for 2-3 days (my best is 3 hours of sleep in a 72hours-exercice)...
Few tips:
- Always leave the nature so that nobody could tell you were there. Not because you're paranoid but because of respect of the nature and the other campers...
- Against bugs : stray ashes around the sleeping place, helps a lot.
- Against mosquitoes and flies : Make a big fire and throw lots of grass and green leaves in it. Problem is you to can't stand the smoke. Use some repellant and if it doesn't help, go somewhere else! Or just try to ignore (had a bad experience of lying for an hour on a ants-heap during an infiltration patroul).
- If you go by car take everything you might need. If you have to carry yourself, throw everything you don't really need (cut your toothbrush in two, take only one piece of soap,...). But do have always enough pairs of socks if you're hiking and walking a lot.
- Wear gloves while working with your knive/axe and while gathering wood. Wear long sleeved shirts and no shorts. Wear a hat or something else to protect your head against sun and cold and rain.
- Fire is very important, to cook, heat, dry but also to cheer up after a hard day. Be careful and never let a fire unguarded.

Need some more advise? Just ask :)

That reminds me of another camping around wildlife story. When I was about 12 my dad took the whole family camping just outside of Jackson Hole,WY. There was a family of moose that would come into the camp sites to look for food and according to the Ranger lick the grills after people had cooked on them as they liked the salt left on the grill. We had been there about an hour when a cute baby moose wandered into our camp site. It walked right up to me and started to sniff me. Because I was young and didn't know any better, I started to pet the cute baby moose. Enter Mom moose who took one look at me petting her baby and decided she wasn't going to have any of that. Mom moose let out a huge bellow and the proceeded to charge me at full speed. I ran for my life, and let me tell you I have never run so fast in my entire life. I flew over fallen tress, over rocks, and covered some serious ground. Eventually I got to the river. At that point I jumped down the bank, into the water, and bounded to the middle of the river where there was some rock sticking out of the water. I stood frozen, listening, waiting to see if I was still being followed. About 30 seconds later Mom moose came crashing trough the trees and skids to a stop on the river bank. We stared at each other for a good minute, each deciding what our next move would be. At that point Baby moose caught up with us and came over to his Mom's side. She looked at me, looked at him, looked back at me and then let out a snort and proceeded to walk away. I stayed in the river for a few min. waiting for my heart beat to return to normal. Then I made the long trek back to camp, wet and out of breath from my run.

A few hours later the moose returned to our camp site, and that is when the photo below was taken. I was so afraid Mom moose would remember me, and try to kill me again. She had however lost her interest in me. I learned a valuable lesion about not petting baby animals, as you never know when their mom might be near by and take offense to it.

Is this little Brigliadore ??????

yah, thats me.

You look sorta nervous in that pic, Brig. Pissed off meese are nothing to toy with.

I was nervous, I thought for sure that mom moose would take one look at me, think "oh ya, that's the human that messed with my baby" and try and charge me again. It was a scary few min. for me till I realized she didn't care any more. I have since learned that moose average 1,400 pounds and stand around 6 ft. at the shoulder. Thats a whole lot of angry mom.
At that point in my life I knew not to pet baby wolves or mountain lions, but it never occurred to me till then not to pet baby deer, or moose. Trust me I wont be making that mistake again.

Our family had a cabin at Lake of the Ozarks when I was growing up. One year we had a family of skunks nearby. No problem. We ignored them and they ignored us - mostly.

My dad's favorite thing to grill was hamburgers with lots of barbecue sauce cooked on. After he was done he'd hang the grill off the side of the pit.

The skunks would show up to lick the grill as soon as we went inside. We didn't mind except the grill would still be hot. They would lick and then cry. Rinse, repeat.

For most of dinner time we'd have to listen to the skunks crying. But nobody felt like trying to make them leave.

"You still wake up some times don't you? You wake up in the dark and hear the crying of the skunks?"

you forgot the hanibal lechter tags

yeah, there's nothing like roughing it.

So, you're saying that a comfy campin' woman is more interested in nookie than a cold, uncomfortable woman, huh?

I had my first asthmatic reaction whilst running around in the woods one time. I had gotten myself turned around (not lost, mind you), and ended up about 5 miles away from camp - also, about 800 feet or so lower in elevation. Luckily, I knew of a logging road that ran almost all the way to camp. I had been nursing a cold/throat infection for about 2 weeks prior to this trip, so I wasn't feeling so good. Nonetheless, I figured that I should be able to jog most of the way, since I spent most of the summer getting in shape for bow season.

I made it about 1/2 mile when my chest suddenly closed up on me. No matter how hard I tried to inhale, I could only get a thimbleful of air at a time. Not good when you've been running. I had never had asthma before, so I didn't recognize the signs; I just thought I was dying. I panicked, which only increased my heart rate further, as well as my frantic attempts at respiration. I passed out on the side of the road and was utterly suprised to wake up again.

I was still a long way from camp, and I knew my dad and friends would be looking for me in the wrong place (I had gotten waayyy off track, but they didn't know that). I was too scared to get up and walk, though, because I didn't want another attack. About 30 minutes later, a truck came by, occupied by two of the drunkest, evillest looking people I had ever met while hunting. The guys that give the rest of us a bad rep. They offered me a ride though, and I sat on the tailgate while they drove me up to camp. I wouldn't get in the cab with them, because they stood a decent chance of veering off the road and down the side of the hill.

Made it back with no further drama, but the notion that I was about to die on the side of a mountain with no one to find me for weeks was the low point of camping for me.

So, you're saying that a comfy campin' woman is more interested in nookie than a cold, uncomfortable woman, huh?

Well Splode , from my experence i can say yes !!!

We camp in a big ol' tent with a double sleeping bag on top of a king size air matress . Nothing finer than wakeing up early getting some coffie going and retireing back to the the tent for a little sumtin' sumtin' in the cool morning air ,
if'n you catch my drift ;) ;)

I can recommend a popup camper, which provides for varying levels of elevation in addition to much more comfort than the average tent.

Use caution, though. The first time we did the wild thing in ours, we didn't have the wheels chocked, and we didn't know you were supposed to leave the tongue jack down. The increasing harmonic vibrations we were generating caused the camper to roll forward enough to collapse the front pair of jacks, and the whole camper went kaboom on the tongue.

It was funny, in a "gee, we're not too smart" sort of way. Cost $150 to fix, though.

Camping horror storys ,
Lets see , how about the time we went for a 4 day week end and it rained the whole time , ALL tarps were put up for shelter , and luckely a friend lived near by that worked at a saw mill , so we had PLENTY of fire wood , we only singed 2 tarps , and had plenty of out side ( bark side ) planks to make walk ways with , every thing was cool exept this kid that was a TOTAL ASS to his mother , cussing her and calling her names . I snatched him up by the shirt front more than once saying " Kids DON'T talk to their parents THAT way around me !!!" His mom just blew it off as normal .

or the time when i was stationed in Iceland and some guys from my Platoon and i desided to go camping , the weather turned COLD and these dickless wounders left me out there by my self in -20f temps , i showed them , i stayed gone for 3 more days by my self ( i will have to scan some of the pics one day ) , I back packed to the southernmost point in Iceland that I could walk to . When i came back in a taxi there was search partys out looking for me .

Or the time once again in Iceland when the Air force PJ's ( these guys are the elete of the elete search and rescue guys !!!) want some aggressers to do some combat rescue senerios . They went to the Marine guards ( i was one of them ) to get the volieters . When they droped us off ( 5 miles from the designated drop point) i knew we were in trouble when i had to tell the CPL in charge of us to flip his map over ( yes Splode i have a map and will scan it for you one day, VERRY lunar land scape ) then the radio that they had given us didn't work , then the weather got bad( in Iceland this meens 50-80 knot winds , sub zero temps and every kind on rain snow and sleet there is ) . Luckl'y they had given us these rescue radios . After a week ( we had 2 days of chow ) the weather cleared and i saw a contrail WAY up in the air , I turned on the resque radio just for shits and heard a voice
" Marines , marines , this is highway 25 , come in over "
I said " high way 25 this the marines , where have you boys been?" " marines , this is highway 25 what is your status ??" " highway 25 we are cold wet and hungry , over " at this point the Cpl snatched the radio out of my hands and arranged for our pick up . befor the debriefing he told us " don't say a fucking word" ( I'll have to fire up the scanner for some of these pics as well )

whook!

who'd you piss off?

Now for a good a camping story ,
When i was stationed at camp Penn. Cali. I would get totaly SICK of ALL humanity every now and then . I would pack my small day pack with an absalutly minamal load and head over the hills to the beach ( 10 miles , no big , we used to walk 30+miles with full combat load in under 8 hours ) A friend in my platoon had a crossbow pistol with a 70 pound pull bow on it and broad head arrows , i would borow this and pot a few rabbits and rattle snakes along the way . The first time i did this i was suprised to find nude sunbathers ( this was a restricted millatary beach for training , HELL i wasn't even supposed to be there ) . I would gather fire wood along the last few miles and pitch a small camp on the beach . The nudie folks didn't know just what to make of me but were friendly and would share drinks, and food with me , ( i wish i could scan some pics from these adventures but the film was confiscated at the PX when i tried to get it developed , to many nude folks in the pics :) ).
I would stay on the beach for 2-4 days and just CHILL .
One little pice of advice though pack sun screen when going NATIVE on the beach !!!!!!

who'd you piss off?

No body . I am ALLWAYS up for an adventure , and i had a few there . I meen hell how many folks do you know that can say they lived in Iceland for a year ????

The family of one of my coworkers is from Iceland.

When he returned from his tour in Vietnam (in the Marines) they sent him there for a year to get his head back on straight.

Seemed to have worked.

The family of one of my coworkers is from Iceland.

When he returned from his tour in Vietnam (in the Marines) they sent him there for a year to get his head back on straight.

Seemed to have worked.

And that Ms Wolf is why there is ( or WAS ) a curfew of 11pm on American service folks. A few adventures dodgeing the Icelandic PD as well ;)

and also why the girls in Iceland were afraid of Marines !!!!!

[Elspode does happy dance with much whooping and thrashing of hands in the air}

[Elspode does happy dance with much whooping and thrashing of hands in the air}

Splode , I am sorry I searched high and low for the map but it is no where to be found :( :(

{formerly ecstatic Elspode abruptly ceases the Happy Dance and begins to sob softly}