nuggets, 09/05/12: on camping

Shortly after we crawled out of our tents on Sunday morning, Sava looked at the hillsides girding the campsite and said, Mommy, that mountain would be so beautiful if there were no cars and people at the bottom of it.

My little nature philosopher, I thought, bursting my dusty clothes with pride, conjuring visions of cabins on ponds.

When I shared the story with Rado later, he hastened to disabuse me, Well, honey, I think he just repeats what he's heard you say so many times.

Oh, to hell with the truth. I like hearing my six-year old say that he likes nature better without the people who pollute it, and I choose to believe that he feels what he is able to articulate. As one of Raya's preschool teachers told me when I fretted aloud about whether or not she'd warm up to going to school this year, If you believe it, it will happen. If he says it, he will believe it.

So, we pitched a tent and slept in it for the first time with two kids this weekend. Or, to be precise, the other three slept, while I lay motionless for over three hours, hardly allowing myself to breathe, listening to the late-night din of the campground around me, and marveling at the fact that my daughter and son lay less than half a foot away from me, snuggled in sleeping bags, fast asleep. Who would have thunk it?

Right around midnight, what sounded like two teenage girls stopped by our tent on their way to who-knows-where and began spilling their hearts' content for what felt like a short eternity. When I finally couldn't take drivel of boyfriends and their resemblance to brothers any more, I grunted at Rado over Sava's head and instructed him to get up and tell them to move on (he was closest to the door).

More than an hour later, I remembered that I had accidentally brought earplugs, and then I blissfully slept until 4.30 am, when Raya woke me up to say, I can hear tati snoring like a lawn mower! 

When I assured her that this was alright, she went back to sleep promptly and didn't wake up until about 6.30 am. That was ten hours of solid sleep in a tent for this almost-three-year old. That was far better than this mama ever hoped for on our first night camping in the woods.

I'll tell you honestly that I couldn't care less about a crowded drive-in campsite on a hot Labor Day weekend in Northern California. There is nothing truly "natural" about it, and the noise pollution far exceeds that of our suburban house on any given day. I don't get the appeal of going out "in nature" in order to drink, shout, and stay up late.  (Oh, and did I mention there was a stampede to watch a fight around midnight at the campground?)

I don't care about swimming in a muddy lake on an overcrowded beach,

and I could do without the music blasting from boom-boxes while barbecue smoke fills the air.

The people, though?...the opportunity for our kids to have an extended overnight playdate with seven other families (some we knew well, others barely), including skip-hopping from tent to tent,

cooking with acorns,

"shooting" with sticks, singing "I've got to move it, move it..." and talking in a familiar way with all manner of adults?

Priceless. Worth every inch of dust on our clothes, every minute of wakefulness for the more sensitive sleepers among us, and every tortured self-doubt that it is too hot to be outside.

Now that we've done a couple of camping trips to "popular" campsites, I have a clear perspective on the irresistible appeal of hiking into the backcountry and pitching a tent deep in the wilderness, away from the crowds and their our cars. Until that becomes a feasible prospect for the four of us, I will continue to give an enthusiastic "yes" to all invitations to join friends on their more mundane adventures at "family-friendly" camping sites. I doubt there is anything more valuable I can give to my kids than this time spent outdoors among family and friends. Truly, I can't think of anything more meaningful in our lives.

So, without further ado, some more of the many photos I took this weekend (yes, too many, as usual).

Raya enjoyed talking to everyone who crossed her path.

Nothing new there.

It's been suggested independently by a few people who don't know each other that she should run for president when she grows up, and while I think presidents need more of a filter on what they say than she currently possesses, there is good reason to think that her gift of gab would fit the presidency well.

Sava developed a crush on one of his fellow campers, wanting to go visit her tent as soon as he woke up on Sunday morning, but in the end, nothing much came out of it, as he was too shy, and so was she.

In contrast, Raya developed an obsession with her friend AJ's kiddie camping chair, which she lugged religiously everywhere she went. Seriously, she did not let go of the darn thing except to sleep. It was hilarious, except when it was exasperating.

Our kids refused to eat marshmallows (too sticky, according to both), but they certainly enjoyed roasting them.

We attempted a hike along the lake, but with 90F at 10 am, it was simply much too hot.

 Best camping snack for our kids?

Popcorn, indeed.

When not dragging the chair, Raya carried Stella, a flashlight, and a black feather.

Stella learned how to climb trees,

and Sava had repeated opportunities to play with younger children, which he does with unmatched grace and aplomb.

Most importantly, our two kids had a chance to bond through play in ways that do not always occur organically at our home.

The moral of the story?...Camp more. Camp with friends.

Embrace dirt and lack of sleep.

Because, in the large picture, these are the moments that matter the most.

:::
The weekend before camping, we took a lovely hike through a local park with Sava's "best friend" from school. We took her along without her parents, which gave me a brief taste of what a family of three would feel like.

When a group of hikers passed by as we were snacking on a redwood tree stump, one of the women exclaimed, There's a perfect family moment for a photo! I assured her that the photo had already been taken.

Rado and I confessed to each other some days ago that we are both suffering from serious PMD (Post-Montana Depression). We like our neck of the woods, and we wouldn't exchange our weekend family outings for anything, but after the big open spaces of Montana, and the ease of getting away from it all by just stepping outside our door?...everything here feels cramped and paltry.

Too many people, too many cars, too much of the rat race that consumes everyone.

We want to go hiking, but we don't like the sight of full parking lots or the hordes of people along the trails. We like the redwoods and the open hill tops, but we'd rather contemplate the Rocky Mountain peaks.

It's not my mode to live with a lingering sense of discontent, so I am working hard to shake off the negativity. Still, it isn't easy.

For a week after we came back from Montana, Sava kept waking up in the morning teary-eyed, saying stuff like, I wish we were still in Montana, or I wish you didn't have to work so we could stay longer in Montana.

We've made multiple promises to return to Montana at the first opportunity.

In the meantime, over dinner the other night, during a family discussion of how everyone wants to dress up for Halloween, we arrived at the unanimous conclusion that Sava should play the part of a fly fisherman.

The request has been communicated to Montana, and Bob has promised to provide all necessities.

It's one small way of keeping the Montana experience alive.
:::
Moving right along, on to
Stuff They Say

this and all photos below except for one taken during an outing with Stroller Hikes at Alviso Marina

While looking at a pair of kingfishers in a book:
Raya: I think this is the girl, and this is the boy. So, she is the Queenfisher, and he is the Kingfisher.

Sava, talking about wedding veils after we attended some friends' wedding:
Hey, Raya, do you know that mesh shopping bag we have at home? (he means the reusable veggies bags from Whole Foods) Auntie Michelle wore one of those on her head. Yeah! at her wedding!

When I asked Raya after one of her first days at preschool whether she had painted:
Yes, I arted!

On our way to Santa Cruz for a friend's party,
Sava: Does Santa cruise around Santa Cruz?

Raya thinks "about" is a verb. At bedtime,
Mom: Raya, have you taken off your clothes yet?
Raya: I am abouting to!

Rado: It's time to go to bed, Raya!
Raya: I'm not sleepy! I want to be quite running around!

When I walked in to pick her up in the morning before I had dressed fully:
Raya: It's nice underpants you've got there!

Sava made a poster for school, titled something like, "All about me." In it, he completed two lines that started with "I wish for..." and one that started "I wish that..." His answers:
I wish for an airplane.
I wish for money. (yes, we intend to have a serious conversation about that one)
I wish that my sister wasn't so loud.
Our darling sweetheart.