Friday, June 20, 2003
CAMPING OUT, Sex and Lies continued... Saturday, June 07, 2003
Hopping in the Winnebago, driving to the nearest recreational area to hook up to the electric and hot water was not Pete's idea of camping. He loved the outdoors and the closer he could get to it the better. He especially liked to bring the kids. Pete was an ex-marine among other things and I had to remind myself that his survival skills were way up on the list of why I married him in the first place.
I, on the other hand, feel anxiety when I don't have access to my hair dryer and mascara. I never liked to be seen without my make-up, so camping, the way Pete liked to go camping, was a major challenge.
In July, 1970, Erika was 2 months old. We had the other two kids with us for summer vacation. Pete says, "Lets go camping". I was breast feeding so that simplified the amount of gear we'd have to take. All Pete needed was a fishing pole, a tarp, some rope, a hatchet and a case of beer. We head off in the direction of New Hampshire in our old Ford 150 van with the rust on the side. (It was all we could afford after Pete totaled the Mustang.) Pete is familiar with the area from hunting in deer season with his buddies. We pull-off to the side of the road and park. It all looks like the same dense forest to me. It was a very hot, sunny day. Crystal clear blue sky.
We get all the gear. I have the baby tied to me in front with a sling. This way of carrying babies was just catching on. I think we WASPS picked it up from Native Americans, very practical. Pete thrashes through the woods with the kids in front to make a path. I tip toe behind. I have no sense of direction and tend to get lost at the base of our driveway - so I'm on high alert in the woods.
It had been pretty dry that year and Pete picked a smooth, open area right on the dry edges of a river bank to set up camp. We could see the river running over the rocks a short distance below us. It was a beautiful spot. Pete and the kids set everything up. He put his case of beer in the river to keep it cold. My job was to nurse the baby. The plan was that he and the kids would catch fish and he'd cook'm for dinner. They went off. I sat on the rocks with the baby and kept an eye out for bears, ants, squirrels, hawks and other scary things.
Nothing much happened. They did get some fish. We had enough peanut butter and bread to full the gaps. The kids thought they were in heaven. It started to get chilly at dusk so we crawled in our sleeping bags early. I had the baby with me. We all dozed off.
In the middle of the night I'm awakened by a low rumble. Without warning the sky seemed to open up in a torrent. The river rose so fast, we were stumbling around in the dark as the water rushed down the mountain. I was terrified. Most of our gear had already been washed away. We had to find our way back to the car in the pitch dark as thunder roiled over our heads. Pete salvaged one flashlight. He had to lead us through the woods in the blinding rain. Pete went first, we had the two kids in the middle and I came up behind clutching the baby. Pete stumbled and fell. He broke a tooth but was unfazed. Finally we emerge by the road and see the car parked about 50 feet away. We pile in. I just want to go home. Pete suggests a motel for the night.
We find a cheap place with a vacancy. The hot shower was nirvana. The next morning the skys have cleared. Pete wants to go back to the camp site. I think he's insane but the kids beg and reluctantly I trudge along. Back down the road to a spot that will remain burned in my brain for eternity. Down to the river we go. It seemed so benign in the morning sun. Pete sends the kids down river to search for the remains of the case of beer. Now I realize why we had to come back. It was Sunday. The liquor stores were closed. That case he'd left in the river the day before was his last hope of making it to Monday morning.
Hopping in the Winnebago, driving to the nearest recreational area to hook up to the electric and hot water was not Pete's idea of camping. He loved the outdoors and the closer he could get to it the better. He especially liked to bring the kids. Pete was an ex-marine among other things and I had to remind myself that his survival skills were way up on the list of why I married him in the first place.
I, on the other hand, feel anxiety when I don't have access to my hair dryer and mascara. I never liked to be seen without my make-up, so camping, the way Pete liked to go camping, was a major challenge.
In July, 1970, Erika was 2 months old. We had the other two kids with us for summer vacation. Pete says, "Lets go camping". I was breast feeding so that simplified the amount of gear we'd have to take. All Pete needed was a fishing pole, a tarp, some rope, a hatchet and a case of beer. We head off in the direction of New Hampshire in our old Ford 150 van with the rust on the side. (It was all we could afford after Pete totaled the Mustang.) Pete is familiar with the area from hunting in deer season with his buddies. We pull-off to the side of the road and park. It all looks like the same dense forest to me. It was a very hot, sunny day. Crystal clear blue sky.
We get all the gear. I have the baby tied to me in front with a sling. This way of carrying babies was just catching on. I think we WASPS picked it up from Native Americans, very practical. Pete thrashes through the woods with the kids in front to make a path. I tip toe behind. I have no sense of direction and tend to get lost at the base of our driveway - so I'm on high alert in the woods.
It had been pretty dry that year and Pete picked a smooth, open area right on the dry edges of a river bank to set up camp. We could see the river running over the rocks a short distance below us. It was a beautiful spot. Pete and the kids set everything up. He put his case of beer in the river to keep it cold. My job was to nurse the baby. The plan was that he and the kids would catch fish and he'd cook'm for dinner. They went off. I sat on the rocks with the baby and kept an eye out for bears, ants, squirrels, hawks and other scary things.
Nothing much happened. They did get some fish. We had enough peanut butter and bread to full the gaps. The kids thought they were in heaven. It started to get chilly at dusk so we crawled in our sleeping bags early. I had the baby with me. We all dozed off.
In the middle of the night I'm awakened by a low rumble. Without warning the sky seemed to open up in a torrent. The river rose so fast, we were stumbling around in the dark as the water rushed down the mountain. I was terrified. Most of our gear had already been washed away. We had to find our way back to the car in the pitch dark as thunder roiled over our heads. Pete salvaged one flashlight. He had to lead us through the woods in the blinding rain. Pete went first, we had the two kids in the middle and I came up behind clutching the baby. Pete stumbled and fell. He broke a tooth but was unfazed. Finally we emerge by the road and see the car parked about 50 feet away. We pile in. I just want to go home. Pete suggests a motel for the night.
We find a cheap place with a vacancy. The hot shower was nirvana. The next morning the skys have cleared. Pete wants to go back to the camp site. I think he's insane but the kids beg and reluctantly I trudge along. Back down the road to a spot that will remain burned in my brain for eternity. Down to the river we go. It seemed so benign in the morning sun. Pete sends the kids down river to search for the remains of the case of beer. Now I realize why we had to come back. It was Sunday. The liquor stores were closed. That case he'd left in the river the day before was his last hope of making it to Monday morning.
