Our {Entirely Too Authentic} "Real" Camping Adventure

Since the big kids' tent-camping trial went so well on vacation earlier this summer, we decided we were ready to attempt some "real" camping as a family.

Our church offered the perfect opportunity last weekend; every year they host a campout (at a beautiful lake in the Rockies, no less) where they provide and cook every meal--all you have to do is bring yourself and your choice of makeshift lodging. It sounded about our speed, so we signed up.

Peter took half a day off work Friday so we could get there in time to set up during daylight hours:

The kids immediately staked out a "play place."

It all started out wonderfully [foreshadowing!]...we arrived just in time to crash dinner (they even picked up a bunch of gluten-free goodness for us!) and to enjoy some s'mores around the campfire.

YUM.

YUMMIER.

All three kids did great, stayed up way past their bedtime, and remained warm all snuggled up in their kids' tent together. Saturday dawned bright and sunny (after a loooong and chilly night for me: note to self, pack accordingly for myself as I would for the children--an afterthought 'mom bag' thrown into the car at the last minute does not a happy camper make).

We warmed up in time for breakfast, then joined a few other families for a gorgeous hike on the hilltop:

There was also a geocache where Marie got
to trade a treasure and sign her name...
making Godmommy Chelsea proud!

...and some wild raspberries, ripe for the picking!

After lunch we spent some time lakeside soaking in the sun and playing with the rocks, because nothing else could possibly be more entertaining than rocks:

Then spent some time like this:

And this:

And then joined all the other campers at the pavillion for church on the beach. Unfortunately, at about the same time a nice big storm started to blow up from the lake (imagine with me if you will, dear Rockbound Highland Home friends, Lake Frederick circa 2003--or better yet, slumbering in the rushing rivulets of Advanced Land Nav). By the time dinner rolled around people were anchored down trying to manage a few delectible bites of barbeque ribs before blowing away. We made the arduous hike back to the campsite with the sopping/screaming/shivering/whimpering kids, then got them all in dry PJs and snuggled into their tent...with corners that already seemed damp.

So we relocated our drenched selves to the car in order to plug in our phones, check the forecast, (40-50 degrees and rainy for the next 18+ hours), and have a meeting of the minds.

It went something like this:
Me: "Last night I was freezing and hardly slept. Now I'm wet and freezing. At this point, I'm not sure if I'll ever be warm again. Ever. Oh oh and the kids. Yeah, them too! I'm worried they might get wet in their tent and get hypothermia."
Peter: "I think they'll be just fine."
Me: "I hate being cold. I thought I was going to die last night."
Peter: "We could bring the kids into our tent and it would be warmer for all of us. And I could guarantee that we'd all stay dry."
Me: "I'm not convinced."
Peter: (Cringing with every ounce of Man/Eagle Scout/Infantry-saturated MEDO in him) "Well...we could always...um...*cough* ...get a hotel?"
Me: "Oh thank goodness, I thought you'd never ask! Let's call now!!!"

Turns out I wasn't the only one to succumb to that idea. The first hotel we called was already booked, so they referred us to another that they'd "heard still had a few rooms available." Oy. Thankfully we snagged one, and by the time we'd woken up the kids from their snuggly warm (but seemingly more wet) tent and got to the hotel, they were turning people away.

Never in my life have I been
so happy to see a hotel.

As for us, we (I) practically skipped up to our room and tucked the kids into their nice warm beds with a sigh of relief. I happily took advantage of a bathroom with plumbing and hot shower and sank into a plush matress with a gloriously warm comforter. Oh and did I mention the free continential breakfast the next morning? Where we happened to run into another family from our group? I asked Peter if it made him feel better...he said no, it only made him feel busted. I, on the otherhand, felt no shame whatsoever in my appreciation of creature comforts (especially after being denied them so often in my former job). In fact, I'm still congratulating myself on our grand escape from the torrential floods.

Ahhhh. That's better.

I did at least help Peter tear down the campsite that morning in the (still pouring) rain, and we let the boys play in it briefly before escaping like fleeing refugees. Now if we could only reclaim the garage that was usurped for the purpose of stringing everything out to dry!

I promise I'll pack my parka and be more hardcore next time, dear...

At least the rain makes for a pretty picture. As long as you're not sleeping in it.

P.S. Don't anyone ever tell you that "it doesn't rain for more than a few minutes in Colorado." They lie.