My Memory of Camping
Posted: July 31, 2015
I was talking to some friends last week who camped out at Country Jam USA last weekend. I reminded them that my idea of camping is staying at a low-budget motel, mostly because I remember the awful experience I had when on a camping trip while in the sixth grade.
We had a science teacher, Mr. Henry Schmidt, whose family owned a considerable amount of land in Hillsboro, WI. Mr. Schmidt would take a group of students each spring to stay in tents or in his large farm home in Hillsboro. The trip included a day of canoeing on the Kickapoo River, followed by a 20-mile bicycle ride along the bike trail outside of Hillsboro.
As I prepared with two other student friends to pack for the camping trip, I was responsible for bringing all of the utensils we needed to cook out. I made sure we had a small grill with propane and the forks and knives we would need for the cookout.
Once we arrived at the spacious estate in Hillsboro, it was a free-for-all to find a space to plant our two-man pup tent. Our threesome elected to go as far away from the farm house as possible, which was on a small ridge overlooking the creek.
After a long day of canoeing in the rain, we thought it would be best to hang out around the campfire and warm up and dry off. We cooked smores and hot dogs and had fun telling scary stories. (After all, we were only about 12 years old).
Once we decided we had dried off enough after a day of canoeing in the rain, we made our trek to our campsite. What we didn't realize, though, was that the farmer who was renting the land from Mr. Schmidt's family owned a herd of bulls. Imagine the look on our eyes as we saw nothing but the red eyes of ornery bulls.
As we attempted to stay as far away as possible from the bulls, some started to come towards us. We began to run, forgetting about the meandering creek that we had to traverse as we made our way back to our tent. Naturally, we got wet again.
We woke up in the morning to find that our wet socks that were placed on a low-level tree trunk to dry off were covered with squirrel dung and that I forgot the frying pan for the eggs for the morning breakfast. Plus, the bulls roamed around our tent all night and left a reminder that they were there.
So that's my memory of camping. Now you know why I prefer a low-budget motel.