Smells Like Patchouli
This past Friday night, in a champagne induced coma, I agreed to go camping; in fact, I may have even suggested it. We did a quick Google search for campgrounds in Big Sur that were both dog friendly and close to the river and came across Fernwood resort. Ryan called to make a reservation and we got the last available site for the following night.
The next morning I woke up with cotton mouth and a vague recollection that we were going camping, the enormous grin on Ryan’s face confirmed it. Ryan began to gather his camping gear from the shed and I packed up some snacks blankets and clothes. With the car neatly packed (my husband is an exceptional packer) and one stop for hot dogs, s’more supplies and cheap beer, we were on our way.
It had been years since I had driven down Highway 1 and I had forgotten how absolutely beautiful it is. Sometimes with things as amazing as Big Sur right in your backyard you forget to actually GO. We arrived at our campground, checked in and soon discovered that we had the shittiest site on the entire property. Ryan decided to see if any other sites had opened up and sure enough one had; a nice spot right by the river.
Now, I have been camping plenty of times in my life. There were the super fun camping trips when you are a kid and all you have to do is show up, eat the meals mom prepares and swim, the drunken lake trips in high school where nobody really remembers what the hell went on and a few trips in my adult years when I realized just how much work camping is. I remember it taking a good hour to set up camp. There is the tent, the picnic table, the ice chest and let’s not forget, the filthy dirty tarps! I was preparing myself for all of it when all of a sudden I turned around and it was DONE. It then became clear that I was camping with a professional.
I knew Ryan loved camping and had been a lot with family, friends and just he and his dog, but I didn’t know he LOVE LOVED it until Saturday. I am telling you; the entire time we were there I couldn’t get that grin off of his face. I literally could have told him I stepped on a wasp nest and he would have been like AWESOME, NATURE! AN ADVENTURE! I, to put it nicely, do not love camping. Don’t get me wrong, I do like it and I did have a great time, but if given the choice to sleep in a freezing tent or a warm house I would choose the house.
So yeah, freezing tent aside, we had a lot of fun. We drank Pabst Blue Ribbon, ate campfire hot dogs, hiked along the river, one of us ate s’mores, another one of us tried to chase squirrels and yet another one of us pouted in the tent. The tent, by the way, was referred to as “the babysitter,” by about 8:30pm because we were both sick of chasing Abner around and zipped his annoying ass in there. No really. He was a complete pain. He never stopped. He tried to eat everything, repeatedly wandered down to the river and did I mention he NEVER STOPPED. FOR GODS SAKE DOG, GO TO SLEEP.
Of course I cannot mention Big Sur without mentioning hippies. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t hippies supposed to be all peaceful and nice and gleefully high all the time? At least that has been my experience up until this weekend. On Sunday we went to Pfeiffer State Beach and encountered some of the gnarliest hippies I have ever seen. And I don’t just mean the odor wafting from their general direction. They were foul human beings. They littered, belched, dropped the F bomb every other word and BATHED IN THE OCEAN. They were gross. I imagine if I were a hippie I would be disappointed by their representation of “hippies,” unless I was high on LSD, then I’d probably be amused.
Overall it was a great mini-vacation and I look forward to camping again. I may complain about the smell of smoke, the lack of warm water and the general idea of being outside ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT, but I really did have a lovely time. I think the idea of camping was best described by a close family friend’s Italian foreign exchange student a few years ago. She had never heard of camping before and was having a hard time understand why we do it, “you are telling me that you take all the things from your house and then put them outside? And this is supposed to be fun?” I couldn’t have said it better Alexandria, but guess what. It IS fun
I learned how to play dominoes
Drama Queen in the tent
Our little campsite
Hanging out by the river
He HAD to jump in
Playing at Pfeiffer
Pretty
The next morning I woke up with cotton mouth and a vague recollection that we were going camping, the enormous grin on Ryan’s face confirmed it. Ryan began to gather his camping gear from the shed and I packed up some snacks blankets and clothes. With the car neatly packed (my husband is an exceptional packer) and one stop for hot dogs, s’more supplies and cheap beer, we were on our way.
It had been years since I had driven down Highway 1 and I had forgotten how absolutely beautiful it is. Sometimes with things as amazing as Big Sur right in your backyard you forget to actually GO. We arrived at our campground, checked in and soon discovered that we had the shittiest site on the entire property. Ryan decided to see if any other sites had opened up and sure enough one had; a nice spot right by the river.
Now, I have been camping plenty of times in my life. There were the super fun camping trips when you are a kid and all you have to do is show up, eat the meals mom prepares and swim, the drunken lake trips in high school where nobody really remembers what the hell went on and a few trips in my adult years when I realized just how much work camping is. I remember it taking a good hour to set up camp. There is the tent, the picnic table, the ice chest and let’s not forget, the filthy dirty tarps! I was preparing myself for all of it when all of a sudden I turned around and it was DONE. It then became clear that I was camping with a professional.
I knew Ryan loved camping and had been a lot with family, friends and just he and his dog, but I didn’t know he LOVE LOVED it until Saturday. I am telling you; the entire time we were there I couldn’t get that grin off of his face. I literally could have told him I stepped on a wasp nest and he would have been like AWESOME, NATURE! AN ADVENTURE! I, to put it nicely, do not love camping. Don’t get me wrong, I do like it and I did have a great time, but if given the choice to sleep in a freezing tent or a warm house I would choose the house.
So yeah, freezing tent aside, we had a lot of fun. We drank Pabst Blue Ribbon, ate campfire hot dogs, hiked along the river, one of us ate s’mores, another one of us tried to chase squirrels and yet another one of us pouted in the tent. The tent, by the way, was referred to as “the babysitter,” by about 8:30pm because we were both sick of chasing Abner around and zipped his annoying ass in there. No really. He was a complete pain. He never stopped. He tried to eat everything, repeatedly wandered down to the river and did I mention he NEVER STOPPED. FOR GODS SAKE DOG, GO TO SLEEP.
Of course I cannot mention Big Sur without mentioning hippies. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t hippies supposed to be all peaceful and nice and gleefully high all the time? At least that has been my experience up until this weekend. On Sunday we went to Pfeiffer State Beach and encountered some of the gnarliest hippies I have ever seen. And I don’t just mean the odor wafting from their general direction. They were foul human beings. They littered, belched, dropped the F bomb every other word and BATHED IN THE OCEAN. They were gross. I imagine if I were a hippie I would be disappointed by their representation of “hippies,” unless I was high on LSD, then I’d probably be amused.
Overall it was a great mini-vacation and I look forward to camping again. I may complain about the smell of smoke, the lack of warm water and the general idea of being outside ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT, but I really did have a lovely time. I think the idea of camping was best described by a close family friend’s Italian foreign exchange student a few years ago. She had never heard of camping before and was having a hard time understand why we do it, “you are telling me that you take all the things from your house and then put them outside? And this is supposed to be fun?” I couldn’t have said it better Alexandria, but guess what. It IS fun
I learned how to play dominoes
Drama Queen in the tent
Our little campsite
Hanging out by the river
He HAD to jump in
Playing at Pfeiffer
Pretty
Comments
Post a Comment