Sail/Camp Adventure #2: Part 4: The Execution Of Operation Old Guy

Sail/Camp Adventure #2 of 2019 got off to a rough start. Preparation and departure was a fiasco. My “boat rickshaw” was a complete cock up. It wasn’t fitting on the trailer. I had miles and miles to go to the rendezvous point but a lawnmower disaster that couldn’t be avoided busted my schedule. That, coupled with the loading disaster, meant that I left a solid four hours later than planned. Shit happens.

I drive a lot but I’m trying to take it easier on myself lately. I force myself to take breaks. Stop and smell the roses y’all. Long term it’s wise self-care.

But I had blown the departure phase and had to make up for it during the driving phase. I kept my ass glued to the truck seat and flogged the Dodge. We were to meet at a campsite that’s somewhat unique. This particular campsite has a gate that’s sometimes closed. I had to get there before deadline or I’d be stuck in a hotel somewhere.

I made it. I swooshed in just before sunset. I paid my fee at the gate (which was manned by kindly but very strict people). Secretly, I nicknamed the gate “Checkpoint Charlie”. They have a policy where you can drive your car to your campsite but then you must drop your crap at the campsite and drive your car back out to the parking lot. The car must stay in the parking lot, in vehicle jail. When it’s time for you to leave, they will open the gate… ONCE! They are very proud of their policy and appear to have no sense of humor about it. I’ll admit it probably cuts down on hoodlums, noise, and so forth but there’s a big mental difference between “park your car and chill out” and “you get one and only one chance to select the items from your car that you wish to retain a campsite”.

Addled from a very long drive, menaced by the gatekeepers, and mindful the sun had already set, I rolled into camp. I started grabbing shit off my truck in a hurry. I didn’t want to forget anything and I figured the easiest way to make sure I didn’t forget something was to set it up.

The whole point of this outing was human interaction and the other members of the group were politely saying “hi”. I was wigged out by the impending “closing of the gate” and only offered a perfunctory greeting. I was polite but distracted (also sore from the long drive). I figured I would be free to talk by the fire in due time. Folks offered to help me set up my tent but I was like “nah, I got this” and (shockingly) I did.

Proof! My Gazelle T4 tent practically sprung upright on its own (I don’t usually believe marketing hype but this thing really is super-fast to setup.) Eyeing a cloudy sky, I put on the tarp and staked the crap out of it. (A happy kid was with the group so I handed him a hammer and told him to check my work. I love giving kids hammers!) Elapsed time? Maybe 2 minutes.

Soon I was dragging my cot into the tent. It takes a bit longer to snap together my super overkill Teton Sports Outfitter XXL camp cot than it does to erect the monster 4 man tent where it lives. The cot takes ½ the tent. Being a fan of overkill, I tossed in a rolled up “floor protector” on the half of the tent where I’d be walking. (It’s a carpet runner.) Then I unrolled my glorious and back friendly Teton Outfitter XXL mattress. The cot and the mattress are huge overkill compared to an inflatable mattress on the ground but my God it’s comfortable. It’s also basically instant. I did it all in less than 5 minutes.

Without putting much thought into it I set down a couple big ass totes. They look neat and organized but they aren’t. Just that morning I’d hurled gear hurled inside as a big jumble. But it’s water resistant and looks orderly even when it’s not. The last step was a cheap fold out chair.

Total time to setup camp? Maybe 10 minutes; 15 at the outside. After years of lightweight wilderness camping it all seems so luxurious as to be decadent.

Then I drove away before the Checkpoint Charlie people could come and harass me. At the parking lot I abandoned my “big red security blanket”. Walking back in the dark, I realized I’d done something not unlike the old guy cooking his fish. Sure, my gear is newer so I lose some “cool points” but I’d grabbed stuff smoothly and set it up in a flash. Also, even though I sound like a salesman when I list off all the new stuff, it wasn’t overly expensive. I’d figured out a system where all the parts fit together well.

Sometimes I don’t look like a dumbass. Go figure!

Dinner went smooth. I’d been too rushed to stop at a grocery store to fill my cooler with human food. As a backup I’d grabbed a handful of Mountain House dinners. They’re pretty tasty and super-fast to cook. (“Chicken and rice”, delicious.) The kid that came with the group looked hungry and had never seen Mountain House. I gave him half the bag and he loved it. Soon he was pestering his dad to get more “stuff like that”. Yes, I’m probably going to hell for that. Finally relaxing, I switched my percolator from “boil water for Mountain House” to “make a pot of hot cocoa”. I like cocoa with a generous helping (about half) of bourbon.

Then and only then could I let go. It’d been a heck of a trip to get there but I was pleased with myself. I’d setup camp and made dinner with a surface ease that equaled my “river runs through it” imagination.

Tongue loosened by bourbon and enjoying the night sky, I even enjoyed chatting by the fire. Who says a stray dog has to always be a stray? Things were going my way and it was going to be a great weekend.

More to the story soon.