Yup. Here we go again! This weekend is our annual Crockett Camping Extravaganza. Due to some technical difficulties, we had to cancel our reservation at Wolf Creek because a) Amy and I drove up there and the campsite was the suckiest one I have ever seen and b) we found out (through very weird circumstances) that a particularly rambunctious group of people were going to stay there during the same time as us. We knew that there was going to be a lot of partying going on until o'dark thirty about 20 yards from us and thinking of that just made me feel cranky. And when I'm cranky I can actually be very rude and possibly make Shawn start a fight for me. I need my sleep and I really don't want to hear the alcohol induced frivolity that will ensue until who knows when. Plus there isn't a camp host on site to keep them under control. Of course, we could always let the younger kids wake up early and ride their bikes all over the campsite screaming at the top of their lungs the next morning, which is probably what they would do anyway. That would be mildly amusing. But not enough to make me want to stay there for any length of time. The party animals can just have at it.
But luckily (through more weird circumstances) we got reservations at a campground near Payson Lakes. I am so excited about it! It's looks like a nice place and I love the fact that we are going somewhere new. I love camping!
But why do I love camping? Why do I persist? Why do I voluntarily drive hours to the middle of nowhere so that other people can hear me yell at my kids? I'm not sure what drives me to this madness, but for some reason, we continue to go every year. It really is a lot of work, don't you think? Whenever I start packing, I feel a little like we are planning an evacuation. With all of the stoves, axes, firewood, lanterns, food to feed us for days on end and various types of clothing in case of extreme temperatures like rain, or in my case a few weeks ago, SNOW, it seriously feels like we are expecting a zombie apocalypse or something. But, ahhhh....there is something about the mountain air and getting away from the routine of life that is so appealing I will literally do anything, including all the work that comes with camping, for a little taste of nature at it's finest. Not to mention those stars at night. They make me feel like a tiny speck in the universe. It helps me get out of myself and get out of my head for just a few days. It really is a glorious feeling.
So there ya go. I guess I just answered my own question. A'camping we will go. :)
But luckily (through more weird circumstances) we got reservations at a campground near Payson Lakes. I am so excited about it! It's looks like a nice place and I love the fact that we are going somewhere new. I love camping!
But why do I love camping? Why do I persist? Why do I voluntarily drive hours to the middle of nowhere so that other people can hear me yell at my kids? I'm not sure what drives me to this madness, but for some reason, we continue to go every year. It really is a lot of work, don't you think? Whenever I start packing, I feel a little like we are planning an evacuation. With all of the stoves, axes, firewood, lanterns, food to feed us for days on end and various types of clothing in case of extreme temperatures like rain, or in my case a few weeks ago, SNOW, it seriously feels like we are expecting a zombie apocalypse or something. But, ahhhh....there is something about the mountain air and getting away from the routine of life that is so appealing I will literally do anything, including all the work that comes with camping, for a little taste of nature at it's finest. Not to mention those stars at night. They make me feel like a tiny speck in the universe. It helps me get out of myself and get out of my head for just a few days. It really is a glorious feeling.
So there ya go. I guess I just answered my own question. A'camping we will go. :)
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