Hardy or not, camping with kids is a ton of work! They want cocoa with marshmallows. They want s’mores. They need changes of clothes and a good night’s sleep. The bulk of the pre-trip week was devoted to making and reviewing checklists and tossing various kitchen items, tools, and foodstuffs into a large tub. Trips to REI, Costco and OSH. Planning. Purchasing. Packing. Overpacking. My husband was in London all week and not set to return until Friday, after our planned departure time. Due to his being in charge of most loading and hauling, he is normally the voice of reason in the packing department. Well that voice was too far away for me to hear. The car was stuffed.
On Friday afternoon, an hour before John was due to land back in the States, the kids and I were off. Knowing their father would be tired from the flight, and wanting to flex my campworthiness, I crowned my boys temporary "man-of-the-house" and "second-in-command" thinking I could secure their help in setting up camp before dark. Ours were walk-in campsites which have the benefit of being away from cars and their non-woodsy noises, yet require you to haul e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g to the site. Hardy. From Oregon.
When we arrived, the kids carried down a sleeping bag or two, and then scampered off to join the ten other kids - ages 5 to 11 - in hollering and running all over the woods. In no time, they had built a fort with sticks and pine boughs in the base of a giant redwood tree. My younger son convinced me it was a former bear cave.
As the parents continued to haul gear and pitch tents, the kids broke into teams, started using pretend code names. Then they established jobs such as guarding the cave, procuring building materials, and gathering pine cones. When someone went over to the dark side and tried to invade the cave, it led to a "Lord of the Flies" situation where the "prisoner" was hauled into and detained in a hollowed out redwood tree trunk. When I passed by the scene, on load five or six from the car, they were guarding him with long sticks and wild eyes. He was in on the game, at least for the initial stages.
Day two brought a hike on which the kids forded streams on fallen logs and ran ahead of the parents only to ambush us with a ululating war cry reminiscent of Planet of the Apes. We all learned how to spot poison oak and stinging nettles, some a bit too late unfortunately. By afternoon, the arsenal of pine cones had become a currency with values assigned according to their uniqueness and quality. Cones were used to purchase various sizes of whittled sticks in a makeshift "store." Stick whittlers were on different pay scales and people took timed "breaks." Such inventiveness. And not an iPad in sight!
Sounds idyllic, doesn't it? Ten kids - eight boys and two girls - spending two days running freely, breathing fresh air, collecting pine cones, whittling sticks, creating a mini-civilization, comparing banana slugs, eating S'mores, and chucking various things into the fire-pit when parents weren't looking. They enjoyed each others company and flexed their imaginations while stoking campfire flames and telling each other about their latest dreams. No one asked for screen time.
Now that we are back - and still unpacking - I look forward to more camping trips and hope they result in just as much free-form fun and as many lasting memories. Not just for me, but for my kids. I also sincerely hope my kids - and their friends - have internalized how much more thrilling camping is than even the heartiest round of Angry Birds. They better. Hardy or not, camping with kids is a lot of work.
**This post first appeared over at Silicon Valley Mamas on June 3rd. Come check 'em out.
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