When Nature Calls I Have an Answer

Back when the century turned, I purchased a little two man tent. Optimistic as that sounds, there were never any other men in it. Just me and a sleeping bag. And a very upset stomach.

When I was a kid I loved camping. My friend John and I would schlep out the big green canvas tent that was older than we were, set it up on the shores of Lake Minatare (home of the only lighthouse in Nebraska), eat bar-b-que potato chips, and revel in the sounds of the lapping waves which would sometimes creep closer over night as the water rose. I think part of the appeal then was sleeping away from home, independent if only for the night.

Things started to change when I went back country backpacking in Colorado with my brother. The mosquitoes were thick that year, and so tiny that they crawled through the tent’s mesh screens into our noses and ears. A planned week in the Mount Zirkel Wilderness turned into one miserable night plus a comparatively luxurious stay at the Motel 8 in Laramie on the way home. Now that was camping. Why didn’t we just go to Motel 8 in the first place?

As an adult, I tried camping again - with friends who went all out. There was a sleeping tent (for six) and a portable screened in day lounge gazebo. There were sleeping bags and auto-blow up air mattresses. A walk in (almost) cooler. A six-burner propane stove and roomy oven. Tarps on the ground. Skillets and pans of all types. Complete sets of flatware and nicer dishes than I had in my house at the time. Wash tubs. Portable food pantries (gotta get that food up there somehow). Large drinking water dispensers. Multiple director-style folding chairs with beverage holders. And every other gadget sold at REI.

It wasn't a campsite - it was a compound.

Anyone trying to get a feel for how the pioneers lived as they walked their wagons west would have to look somewhere else.  Of course, setting up and breaking camp took hours with all that stuff. I thought it would be quicker and easier to drive into town and go to a restaurant than to fire up the six-burner and unpack all that food, but I was overruled. So I pitched my little two-manner, spread out my sleeping bag on the hard ground, and pulled out my bag of chips.

I didn’t really enjoy myself, but I felt like I was supposed to. I mean what self-respecting Coloradoan doesn’t like camping?

There's just no getting around the fact that regardless of what you eat or how pretty the scenery is, nights get cold in the mountains. It's worse when there is something foreign living in your stomach and you have to repeatedly get up to go to the bathroom, as I did that summer night in Rocky Mountain National Park some 20 years ago. Mom and Dad offered to let me sleep in the motor home with them, but I had my little tent and by-golly, I was going to use it.

Trying to sleep while shivering is hard enough - but when nature calls the way it did that night, you really have to answer. I lost count of the number of times I unzipped the sleeping bag, scrambled for my shoes, unzipped the tent, ran to the facility which was not terribly close, ran back shivering, rezipped everything, and then did it all again about every 40 minutes until morning.

As a new day dawned and a bright sun rose into a crystal clear blue Rocky Mountain sky, I decided that the only camping I was ever going to do again was at the Estes Park Holiday Inn with a heated room and full indoor plumbing.

The two-man tent took a final trip to Goodwill. I have never again shivered the night away with only a thin piece of material between me and the sky.

Don't get me wrong - I love the mountains and being outside. This summer I’m going to visit as many of Colorado’s state parks as I can. I plan to hike, picnic, gaze at the stars, search for wildlife, lean over to get a closer look at flowers, and imagine what it was like in the world before cities and suburbs dominated everything.

But after a day of communing with nature, you'll find me curled up in a real bed with a bathroom nearby. I’ll use electricity to read a book, watch TV, use my laptop, and make coffee if I choose. For a special treat, I’ll haul out some bar-b-que potato chips. Now that’s what camping should taste like.