This picture is unrelated to the story below. I just forgot to post earlier.
Patrick F. McManus wrote that the enjoyment of camping is based on the misery endured. If that is true, then we just enjoyed the best camping trip ever. Our journey began like most of our typical trips; DeA was frazzled from hurrying to try and meet at the time we decided while I finished my day at work. She eventually made it to the office and we set off toward Steamboat Rock State Park.
The drive was pretty uneventful for at least a solid hour, the only excitement came from a brief rain storm that gave DeA the excuse to ask if we should return home. Eventually a rainbow appeared on the horizon and things were looking up.
The real fun started about 30 minutes short of Grand Coulee. A small spike buck jumped directly in front of the pickup. There was quite a bit of screeching, mostly coming from the cab. The deer hit dead-center on the grill and was launched off to the opposite side of the road. I pulled over to the shoulder, assessed the interior damage and only found that DeA was still screeching. Outside was a different story.
The truck seemed to be in driving condition despite the cracked grill, busted bottom spoiler, bent radiator, sheered instrument cable, and crushed A/C condenser. We went back up the road to check on the deer and unfortunately found it trying to crawl up the hill with only two working legs. In case you are not familiar with deer anatomy, they ideally have four working legs. They can survive with three, but their odds of becoming coyote food jumps significantly. Having only two legs means that poor thing is not going to make it to its next birthday, even if that birthday is tomorrow. I felt that the humane thing to do was to put the deer down.
The last thing I did when I got out of the truck was tell DeA and the kids to cover their eyes. I slowly walked up to the injured animal and found the best angle for the deed. Right after it happened my ears seemed to ring, but it was screaming coming from inside the closed pickup. DeA was the only one to cover her eyes and the deer lifted up before passing to gave the kids a graphic view.
Once I climbed back in the pickup the only sound was the whimpering and sniffling coming from DeA. After carefully heading back down the highway, Rock sheepishly asked from the back seat "can you turn the Mariners game back on?".
We limped into Steamboat and stopped to check in at the front kiosk. The lady said that they were completely full, despite what the internet showed earlier that day. We were discouraged, but undaunted because there were a few other campgrounds close by. We checked the first one and found that a family reunion had filled the spot. The next campground was full of fisherman, while the final spot was stuffed to the gills with NASCAR fans. I still cannot believe that Electric City and Grand Coulee were such a hot camping spot on a random weekend in June.
The trip was slipping away from us. The kids and DeA were now irritated and hangry. I knew were were only about a half an hour away from Wilbur, and Doxie's was in Wilbur. By the time we arrived the truck was full of grumpy people and one frustrated dad.
The food and ice cream seemed to significantly raise our spirits.
While everyone else ordered I checked the two RV parks and campgrounds in Wilbur only to also find them full.
We broke the news to the kids that our only real option left was to return home and regroup. They kept asking us "you mean we aren't going camping? But you promised!" as if they hadn't been paying attention the whole trip.
While we were cruising along Highway 2, DeA started thinking of our previous camping trips. She remembered that we liked Conconully, other than our poorly behaved puppy Winnie, the torrential rain, and the unfortunate accidents in the sleeping bags. She googled directions from where we were and realized that it was closer than our house. We booked a room at a cheap hotel in Okanogan with plans to head to the campground the next morning. We arrived emotionally and physically exhausted.
Bright eyed and bushy tailed is not the phrase to describe this crew.
The next morning came pretty early, mostly because the kids were so excited to get to the woods that they couldn't sleep in. We skipped the hotel breakfast, even flip waffles, and drove straight to Conconully. I could see the campground and sensed that the trip was about to finally be relaxing.
"Hey kids, I can see the ..." I started to say, but was interrupted by yelling from the backseat. "JENS THREW UP!" and "GROSS!! IT WENT EVERYWHERE!" were the boys' sympathetic shouts. We parked in a campsite and started cleaning up both my baby and Jens. I told the boys that they could run around a little, because once we were cleaned up we were going home. I don't know why I was surprised that their response was "you mean we aren't going camping? But you promised!"
Somehow, someway, Jens convinced us that she wanted to stay and that she felt better after throwing up. Look at her, how can you argue with that face?
The campsite made it hard to argue with the offending party, it was a beautiful spot.
The vomiting episode pushed breakfast back further than ideal. I hastily set up the camp stove and helped Ryker start pancakes to combat the increasing crankiness among some members of our party.
The mood following the pancakes and eggs was much happier and relaxed. The kids set out fishing for rocks in the stream.
DeA finally felt like she could sit and enjoy the soothing sounds of the creek. The smell of burnt deer hair and puke was starting to fade away.
Jens sure seemed none the worse for wear. She helped set up the hammock and tested its comfort.
Fishing for rocks meant that the kids snagged a lure on at least every cast. They got better to where they could snag a hook between casts, provided that they found a branch or a limb in their backswing. It's a good thing I only buy the cheapest lures and spinners for my anglers.
Awe, the great feeling of relaxing on a hammock that was installed only as high as your six year-old could reach.
There was a log lying across the stream that proved to be too tempting for DeA to ignore. She crossed it in her flip flops with barely a wave of her arm.
The kids did a pretty good job of entertaining themselves, but they still constantly ask DeA and I to play with them, explore with them, and rub on poison ivy with them. We played a lot of catch and spent a lot of time searching for firewood. We did discover that Ryker still has not outgrown his fear of the vault toilets. He proclaimed to the whole campground that he had to poop, but upon seeing the hole in the bottom of the privy he rescinded that decree.
The boys grew tired of losing spinners in the creek and asked to fish in the lake. DeA was pretty adamant that that was a great idea, with mentions of her staying back at the campsite to test the new cots and pads. Jens stayed with her for some quality girl time.
Ryker threw a cast so hard that the end of his rod flew off into the water! Luckily we were able to reel it in and fix the fish stick.
Unfortunately the boys were unable to get a bite fishing from the dock. I don't know if it was the time of day, the milfoil choking the fish out, or their bait of Cheetos and marshmallows attached to a rooster tail spinner.
At least they seemed to have fun. Ryker did dance quite a bit fishing. I asked him repeatedly if he needed to poop, and he repeated said no.
The dock that the boys were fishing on was all metal. It was a nice dock, with good grip for your feet and little chance for splinters. A big problem with the metal dock arose when a flash of lightning happened simultaneous to a clap of thunder. The boys did not want to give up their prime fishing spot, even after I hastily explained the physics of lightning, electricity, and a metal dock on water. We hunkered inside the pickup for about half an hour before admitting that the storm was not going to pass quickly.
Jens and DeA were relaxing at the campsite when the thunder rolled. Lil' Jens was scared, but she knew if she said a prayer everything would be okay.
When we arrived back at home we relaxed in the tent until the rain stopped, or about 45 minutes. I took all three kids on a little hike around the campground before they went back to snagging lures.
The kids had a good day. They mentioned a few times that the campsite, the time with us, and the food had made all the nonsense from the day before worth the hassle. I thought about teaching them how insurance claims on new F150s work, but decided to let them enjoy their day in ignorant bliss.
DeAndra woke up pretty refreshed from her four hour nap.
I don't blame her for sleeping that long, it was a pretty relaxing spot.
Mmm...hot cocoa.
After a day of dancing, Ryker finally braved the vault toilet and dropped a deuce in the toilet. He claimed that he only had to pee, but refused to explain why this time he had to pee in the outhouse and sitting down, and offered no plausible explanation for the grunting sounds followed by a loud "plop" in the icky outhouse water. Either way, we celebrated that Ryker could go poopoo in the potty.
We finished the evening by the campfire, enjoying the babbling brook and the crackling fire. We settled in to our sleeping bags ready for a goodnight's rest.
Unfortunately, that goodnight's rest did not come. Around 2am, Jens had an accident that significantly soiled her sleeping bag. DeA got her a little cleaned up and walked her to the privy. On the way, Jens threw up all over what was left of her pajamas. Since I was deep asleep on my comfy cot/pad combo, I can only imagine the wonderful mood that DeA was in at that point. But don't worry, it got better since it started raining during their walk. They made it back to the tent, Jens was as clean as she was going to get, and DeA tucked her away in DeA's sleeping bag. DeA, left without a sleeping bag, did the only thing that a wife can do at that point: she punched her husband to wake him up. I was in the middle of a deep sleep and was startled by this more-than-a-love-punch and asked what was wrong.
"Your daughter just pooped in her sleeping bag and vomited on herself" she responded.
"Oh, do I need to clean her up?"
"No, I already did it" she snarled.
"Oh, okay. What do you need me to do then?" I groggily asked.
"Nothing, I just wanted you to know".
"Thanks for tell me" I replied.
After what felt like a minute she added "I don't have a sleeping bag".
"Where is it?" I asked, completely confused.
"I gave it to Jensley"
I looked up and saw DeA lying on her cot and dressed like a homeless person. She was wearing at least three sweatshirts up top and my jeans on her legs. "Do you want my sleeping bag" I asked.
"No, I just wanted you to know" she said with more than a hint of anger.
"Thanks, I appreciate it..." is what she claims I said. I'm pretty sure I offered my sleeping bag again, but she calls this fake news. Eventually she forced Ryker to share his sleeping bag and was able to get some sleep. The next morning she was making accusatory statements about me and telling an overly exaggerated version of the night's events. Rock sat and listened, and then chimed in "it's a good thing you slept all day yesterday, Mom!". DeAndra shot him a look that made him disappear so quickly that I briefly wondered if Ryker had snagged him with a lure and thrown him into the creek.
Jens seemed to be in good spirits the next morning. She certainly didn't seem like a girl that was having leakage issues from both ends.
Ryker again had an issue with his fishing rod and the end flew into the stream where it was washed away.
Rock tried to reel it in, but it seemed to be lost. He followed the line into the water and was finally able to rescue it! What a good brother.
The water was a colder than he anticipated.
Unfortunately, the retrieved end had snapped in the strong current.
The morning was a slow to get started, but we tried to break camp as soon as DeA and Jensley were extracted from their bags. I cooked up some bacon just to keep the natives happy, but otherwise we just stuffed everything into garbage bags and threw it in the pickup. We stopped at McDonald's for an easy breakfast. Jens seemed to enjoy the stop.
DeA liked the food, but constantly complained that everyone was going to judge how we looked. I simply responded by pointing out that we were at a McDonald's in Omak, the only rung lower on the appearance ladder would be a county fair.
It's amazing how much better Ryker ate after he voided his bowels and opened his internal highway.
The drive home was full of laughter, mostly from DeAndra in response to the kids asking when we could go camping next. I guess it was more of a cackle than a laugh, but after the weekend we had I'll spin anything I can into a positive.
