Growing up in the Willamette Valley and on the Oregon coast their was never a Boy Scout camp out, fishing trip or Western Oregon hunting trip that wasn't wet. The wrinkled and pruned skin kinda wet, not limited to your feet and hands, it was a moist whole body experience.
When Eastern Oregon Mule deer season came around the gurgling sound was cheering for a dry redemption! Didn't matter if all the tags were filled opening day. We camped in dusty, but dry, splendor until the season closed.
As all things do things end. For me it was a gent wearing a long black dress. He was informing of a couple of career choices. One really limited your ability to experience new vistas. The other offered travel, education opportunities and a new wardrobe.
I raised my right hand and my left followed do to the county jewelry I was wearing. And I was off to the Navy with a guarantee of training as a Hospital Corpsman. The Corpsman gig sounded like a sweet deal. MASH was a hit show at the time. Working in a nice clean, stationary hospital, hitting on Nurses and drinking martinis with Hawkeye was in my future.
There was a slight problem with my vision. The United States Marine Corps. Didn't see that one coming.
As miserable as they were the soggy camping of my youth was nothing compared to the nature walks the USMC arranged. Being introduced to sleeping outdoors, after a 20 mile stroll, and only what you carried as your camp gear.
As the Doc I was usually the last one to build a nest and enjoy a gourmet C Ration. I had to check every Marines feet. Making sure they put on clean, dry socks and used plenty of foot powder.
After finding my nest and checking for biting or stinging type of critters that I didn't want to room with. I could finally get some rack time.
Just as I am getting some good rack time you'd get woken to stand watch for a couple hours. Getting relieved and the next section taking over the watch would feel like salvation. Back to my nest and arranging the rocks and roots to my liking I'd dive back to Dreamland.
To being awoken because my unit was redeploying. So in the dark off we would go for another stroll. Rinse and repeat.
My enlistment couldn't end soon enough. Then again nothing in my life is as it should be. Somehow I found it was 20 years later and I was transferring to the Fleet Reserve. Along the way I did two more assignments with the Green Side.
I found out that my willingness to spend the night roughing it was absent in this third chapter of my.life. When asked to participate in an outing in the great outdoors I would reply, "How much does it pay?" I'd let the stunned, fish lips look go for a spell.
I'd then let them know that I had just spent 20 years camping for Uncle Sam. And that our kind Uncle payed me to sleep with the critters that bite, sting or chew on you.
That was in the 3rd 3rd of my life. Now that I'm starting the 4th 3rd of my life I'm starting to adjust my view of camping.
Since I don't have the were with all to Daniel Boone a cabin up like Mr. Coffins has done, outstanding job by the way Mr. Coffins! I am leaning towards a custom built Sheep Camp travel trailer. The only tents in my life will be ones I hand to my Grandkids. The "custom" in the Sheep Camp is despite being over 30' long and costing near $100K it only sleeps two!
I wonder why my Grandkids call me their "Bad Grandpa."
IMG_0382 by Oliver Sudden, on Flickr
IMG_0240 by Oliver Sudden, on Flickr
IMG_0245 by Oliver Sudden, on Flickr
IMG_0089 by Oliver Sudden, on Flickr
IMG_0071 by Oliver Sudden, on Flickr
2614918E-E056-4B57-90A8-2BEC1ACA1B0B by Oliver Sudden, on Flickr
IMG_1129 by Oliver Sudden, on Flickr
IMG_0301 by Oliver Sudden, on Flickr
