Monday, September 3, 2012

Camping with Isaac

Katy had a dream: Katy wanted to go camping. I love Katy, I love camping, and I love dreams, and thus it was decided that we would camp this weekend. 

Isaac had a problem with Katy's dream, because Isaac was a hurricane and hurricanes hate camping and all those who aspire to do so. In an act of uncharacteristic practicality, I asked myself, my mother, and Katy if this camping trip was really a wise decision. Lots of boring conversations ensued, and then there we were, at McCormick's Creek State Park.

Katy, Justin, Anna, and I set up two tents with tarps underneath and a giant tarp covering the two tents, the campsite, and overall just a giant chunk of Indiana. We then scoffed at a few drops of rain, and checked out the nature center. We hiked, whistled, frolicked, and met the CUTEST TURTLE to ever live. We were very outdoorsy.

After a dinner back in Bloomington with my visiting family, I returned to McCormick's Creek. We grilled burgers and started a fire. Sarah, Mikala, and Amelia joined us for the rest of a beautiful evening. After one of the creepiest walks to a bathroom in my life with Amelia including a dog that was way scarier than it should have been, guys yelling unintelligible phrases presumably at us, and other things (I mean really, who sits alone in a car in a state park at night with the car lights on), we went to bed around midnight. Cozily tucked away in our tent, around 3:30a.m., it started POURING. No worries, we were in a tent/tarp cocoon of ultimate safety, right?

I woke up in the morning to the sound of rain, totally dry, and fairly pleasant for it being morning and for having not brought a pillow. I asked for Amelia to examine my sleeping bag with me, and to help me deduce why there were two small wet spots on it. She kindly pointed out that the interior of our tent was, at that point, a puddle that simply hadn't seeped through both layers of the sleeping bag I was laying atop of.

I stepped out of the tent to find that we were trapped. The tarp I had so carefully patched with duct tape had gathered within itself a lake that sunk between the two tents, blocking us from my car. Usually I forgo the pictures, for the sake of my exaggerations seeming more realistic, but I really want you to see this. I lifted the tent to let water flow through a hole, with was exactly what Katy had done earlier, and exactly why the tent was a puddle. Eventually, in the pouring rain, we drug our wet selves and blankets through the woods around the site to my car. 

 I arrived in Bloomington with twenty minutes to get ready for church and thirty minute knot in my hair and in desperate need of a very long shower. We got to church on time, like good little Christians. We spent most of the day around town, eating at Applebee's after excessive debate and excessive rejection of Waffle House as a valid dining option. Four of us did P90X Yoga, which was the worst decision in a weekend filled with questionable decisions, while Caitlin kindly napped in front of us. That stuff was not relaxing/calming/anything of the sort.

We did not spend another night there, instead going back that evening to clean up and play a couple low-energy games of Apples to Apples. I approve of this. 

I wish I could tell you that this is the last time I will ever camp in a tropical storm, but we all know me way to well to expect a promise like that.

Dry and happy,