nightmare at 9500 feet

Our first mistake was ignoring our gut instincts. On Thursday night we had to close our windows because the temperature made a sudden drop and our heat actually came on. Hmmmm. We thought. 'If it's this chilly here at 6000 feet above sea level, imagine how cold it might be at 9500 feet tomorrow night when we're camping...' We wondered if we should cancel the trip we'd been planning to one of the state's most revered parks (and that's saying something here in Colorado). We decided to sleep on it.

In the morning, my husband woke up full of energy and started packing. We did have our fancy new zero degree sleeping bags and shiny new cook stove to try out. We were much better prepared than the first time we took the boys camping last summer. And there were older now, too, so that would make it easier.

We loaded our four tons of equipment into the truck (it would be a two night stay, after all) and headed south toward Colorado Springs. The weather was a little sketcky but, oh well. The boys were on cloud nine and about to burst with excitement. After a quick stop for lunch we arrived at the campground in less than two hours.

Even with the overcast skies, it was an amazing park. Right at the base of Pike's Peak with jawdropping views. We checked in and headed toward our reserved site. I had not noticed before that it was a "walk-in" site meaning we would have to carry all of our stuff for about a half-mile. I asked my husband if we should see if there were any others available that we could drive up to. Naaah, he said. It would be more quiet and private with no traffic. He was so happy to be there it did not seem like that far of a hike and besides, he had his trusty dolly to wheel stuff on.

He started making trips to and from the truck while I started assembling the circus tent we would be staying in. The boys played happily and even carried a few things for us. We finished setting up camp just in time. A sudden afternoon shower-turned-sleet storm hit and we dove into our cozy, dry tent. It was fun listening to the ice hit the tent and the boys were thrilled by it. It only lasted a few minutes and then we were able to climb back out.

The rest of the afternoon went quickly as we ate dinner and got prepared for nightfall. That's funny, I thought. I remembered the whole campground being booked up back in March and yet there were so many empty sites. I guessed the weather had kept some people from coming out. Sissies, I thought smugly.

We were worn out from all the work we had done and since it started to rain again, we had no choice but to go to bed when the boys did, around 8:30. Air mattresses, new sleeping bags...aaahhhh...we might just get a good night's sleep I dared say aloud. But just as we were dozing off, the rain let up and our neighbors came out of their tent with their many children and two dogs. They seemed not to notice that everyone else at the campground had turned in for the night. They also seemed to think that campgrounds were great places to train their dog. "Josh. Sit. Josh. Sit. Good dog. Josh. No! Josh. Good dog." We lay in our tent wondering who the hell names their dog "Josh" and when they might decide to shut up so we could sleep. Finally around 10:30 they quieted down and we dozed off.

Then, after what seemed like many hours later, our three year-old woke up coughing and mumbling in his sleep. I bolted out of my sleeping bag and put on my glasses which immediately fogged up because they were frozen. I tried to comfort him and lull him back to sleep and thankfully it worked. I climbed back into my sleeping bag in my three layers of pajamas and coat and held very still, trying to block out the fact that either it had indeed dropped below zero degrees or my "zero degree" sleeping bag might just not be what it claimed to be. Just a few minutes later, the little guy started fussing again and my husband got up to quiet him. Surely, it must be almost dawn. "What time is it?" I asked him. He was squinting at his watch and rubbing it and said, "I don't know because it seems to be frozen." He was finally able to warm it up and tell me the news: It was 11:30. We had only been asleep for an hour and already been awakened by a fussy child twice. Normally, in situations when we're away from home and have a child that won't sleep, we don't hesitate to cut our losses and go home immediately. From experience we've learned that it's never worth it to try to make it through the night. Back in Texas we'd been known to drive from a beach hotel back to the hill country at 2 am. Or from Austin to Comfort in a hailstorm. Back to our own beds where there is a chance for sleep.

So immediately, our minds went there. How can we get out of here??? Ditch the tent? Even then we'd have 20 loads of crap to lug back to the truck past sleeping campers and bears. I briefly considered taking the non-sleeping child to a motel and coming back in the morning. But I had a different idea and it mostly worked. I brought him in to my sleeping bag and cuddled up with him. He started to doze off but my husband and I were wide awake. I had just realized that I needed to pee like a racehorse and there seemed to be an animal rooting around outside our tent. Since we were in the heart of "black bear country" and even had a metal bear-proof box we had to store our food in, I did not want ot risk meeting one face-to-face. So I waited and waited for the intruder to leave.

"Mom, are bears nice?" my boy asked as he drifted off.

"I hope so."

Suddenly, a bright light came on and was shining right on our tent. I lay there getting angrier and angrier thinking about our jerky camp neighbors. Can't they turn that ****ing spotlight off? The nerve!!! They think they own this camp! Then I realized it was not a spotlight. It was the moon. Oh. Well, ****ing moon. Being exhausted, freezing and near my time of month was a very bad combination.

So then the wind picked up and it turned out there was a loose part in the wall of our tent that rolled like a wave and made an annoying, persistent noise. "I didn't know our tent came with its own whirlygig," my husband mused. Then, from sheer exhaustion and circumstances, we got the giggles and I couldn't stop laughing as I laid there freezing, unable to move because of the sleeping toddler in my bed, the moon blinding me and the animal still rooting around outside with my bladder about to explode.

The rest of the night progressed slowly. I'd doze for a while and wake to the sound of my husband praying for death to come. When the sun finally rose, without much discussion and with our heads held high, we began dismantling our camp and lugging our junk back to the truck. Of course, it was uphill on the way back. Our friendly neighbor campers asked brightly, "Leaving so soon?" And we were not ashamed to say, "Hell yes."

When we arrived home and finally unloaded everything, I checked the forecast and it appears our friendly campers are now in the midst of a gigantic thunderstorm that will last for hours.

I'm considering the wording on my craigslist ad, maybe:
Tent, sleeping bags (used once), fancy camp stove (used once). Free, come and get them.

But then again, camping is kind of like child-birth. In the moment, you wonder what the hell you were thinking, but once it's over the pain is almost forgotten.

Almost.