Chimney Creek campground

When Rocket Boy and I got married, nearly 10 years ago, we received some camping gear as wedding presents: pads to put under sleeping bags, a camping first aid kit, plastic wineglasses, etc. And then we never did any camping! I wanted to, but RB (who has camped all his life) didn't, so we didn't.

One more way in which having children changes EVERYTHING. A week or two ago, Rocket Boy suddenly decided it was time to start camping with the kids. I was delighted at the idea, so we started planning. We bought a kids' size sleeping bag from the local outdoors shop, we researched local campgrounds. We thought about digging through our camping gear, but didn't. We decided that our first camping trip would be Saturday, June 2, and it would consist of one night spent at a campground fairly close to home.

Saturday morning (of course, of course) found us frantically combing the garage for our camping equipment, much of which did not surface. It may be in Boulder, it may be in a box we haven't opened yet. Who knows? Among the things we didn't find were those two nice wedding present pads and both of RB's camping stoves. But we did find 2 tents and 3 adult size sleeping bags (which was fortunate since the outdoors shop didn't have another kids' size sleeping bag -- they have to order it) and various other items. We threw whatever we could find into the back of Rocket Boy's Ford Escape, bought some VERY simple food, added a bag of charcoal and a couple of gallons of water, and we were off.

We drove first to the Walker Pass campground, which is only about 25 miles from here.

I should have mentioned that it was beastly hot in Ridgecrest on Saturday, something like 105 when we left the house around 3 pm. It was cooler at Walker Pass campground (note: the pass itself is called Walker's Pass -- don't know why the campground loses the apostrophe-s), but not THAT cool, and there's very little shade. Plus, to our surprise, most of the campsites were occupied. We walked around them and talked to a guy sitting at one picnic table -- and he explained what was up. Walker Pass campground is pretty much right on the Pacific Crest Trail (you know, the trail that goes from Mexico to Canada?), and hikers often stop at the campground just to take a few hours break. The man we talked to was about to start hiking again, so he said we could have his campsite. But we were concerned about how many people might be staying the night, and how noisy the twins are. We decided to keep going, into the Chimney Peak Recreation Area.

We didn't go all the way to Kennedy Meadows, which is famous as a Ridgecrestian refuge from the heat. Instead we went to the Chimney Creek campground at 5700 ft elevation, which (like Walker Pass) is managed by the BLM, is free, and has no water. Unlike Walker Pass campground, it is very out of the way (though still only about 40 miles from our house).

By the time we got to Chimney Creek, it was after 5 pm, so we needed to get busy and choose a campsite. We had our pick -- none of the 9 sites we could find was occupied (the campground supposedly has 32 campsites, but I don't know where the other 23 were hiding). First we chose a big campsite, high up close to a bunch of rocks, but then I started thinking about what was going to climb down from those rocks during the night, and we moved to a small cozy campsite lower down, away from the rocks, a very short walk from what the twins call a "smelly bathroom," and close enough to the road to see it but not be run over by cars who miss the turn. We only saw 2 or 3 cars on the road the whole time we were there, but you never know.

The campsite was long and skinny: firepit, picnic table, area to pitch a tent, and place to park car, all in a row. We had brought two 2-person tents, and we put them up with the openings facing each other, about a foot apart. Here we are watching Daddy start to put up the second tent (firepit is behind the picnic table):

and here we are looking the other direction, toward the car:

Daddy worked very very hard putting up the tents, and then he started the fire (I've just got to learn how to do some of these things; maybe next camping trip). When the coals had stopped flaming, we put the hot dogs on to cook.

This was my dinner menu: one package of 7 all-beef kosher hot dogs, one package of buns, a can of baked beans (which we didn't bother opening), water to drink, and of course marshmallows. Hey, don't knock it, it worked. We also brought chips, pretzels, and grapes, which we munched during the tent assembly process, so no one but Rocket Boy was very hungry for dinner. The twins each ate most of a hot dog, I had two, and Rocket Boy had three. Then we roasted marshmallows over the coals. At first the marshmallows weren't cooking, but then we moved the grate and they got nice and brown -- to Baby B's horror. "I don't want a brown one!" he cried. My efforts to convince him that roasted marshmallows are supposed to be brown were for naught. I ate that one and he ate a plain uncooked white one.

While we were eating, a few other campers showed up -- on foot. It turned out that this campground was also just off the Pacific Crest Trail, though not as popular as Walker Pass.

After eating we had just enough time to take a walk down the quiet road, where there were wildflowers, bunnies, and lots of birds. I had forgotten my binoculars, but I could tell some of the birds were interesting. There was a beauty with an orange and yellow head, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. As night fell, we realized the moon was almost full.

Then it was time to get ready for bed, and that's when things got amusing. We decided that Baby B and I would sleep in the blue & white tent close to the car and Baby A and Rocket Boy would sleep in the orange tent close to the picnic table. Here you can see both tents, right before bedtime:

I got both boos into their diapers and pajamas in the blue & white tent, and read them 2 stories with a little headlamp strapped to my forehead (boos were jealous). I had brought books about camping and the outdoors, and in one book there was a drawing of the bird we had just seen -- a Western Tanager! Then I sent Baby A back over to the orange tent to sleep with Daddy. Boos are used to sleeping together, not with their parents, so they were concerned about this. But I just wasn't comfortable having them in a tent with no parents, even though the parents would be a foot away. We were in bear country, after all.

Rocket Boy and I had taken our melatonin, we were ready for sleep (at 9 pm!). I haven't been sleeping well in the Ridgecrest heat, and of course Rocket Boy had done all the work of putting up the tents and everything.... we were tired! But boos just couldn't settle down. After a bit Baby A decided he was going to sleep in the big tent with Mommy and Baby B, so he and his sleeping bag crossed over to our tent and we squished together to accommodate him. But it was really a squish. "Do you really want to sleep here with us?" I asked Baby A and he said no, he wanted to sleep with Daddy. So back to Daddy's tent he and his sleeping bag went. Baby B said that he would sleep with Daddy too, but I said no he wouldn't. So no more sleeping bags moved.

I kept tucking Baby B into his sleeping bag, with his favorite blanket and his favorite stuffed toy, Ducky, and then a few moments later he'd pop out again. I decided to tell him a story (rather than read another one, which would have required a light). "Once upon a time," I said, "when I was a little girl, I went on a camping trip with my Daddy and my Mommy and my little sister -- and that was Nonny."

"Oh!" Baby B said. "Nonny's house is near Baba's house!"

"Yes," I said, "but this was a long time ago, and I lived near Baba too, and Nonny and I lived in the same house."

This was too much for Baby B. "Mommy? Can you tell a story about Ducky?"

I'm flexible. I decided to tell a story about going to the duckpond when I was a kid. "Once upon a time when I was a little girl..."

"No! Tell a story about Ducky!"

No problem, I can do that. "Once upon a time when Ducky was a little duck..."

"No! Ducky was not a little duck! Ducky was always the same size. He was born and he grew up and he stopped growing. And then I loved him."

This was so sweet that Baby B and I both laughed together and I hugged him. But he didn't go to sleep. At one point he got out of his sleeping bag and announced that he was going to go outside and look for "creatures." "NO!" I shouted, grabbing him. "You will stay right here and go to sleep!" But a moment later he popped up again.

At some point we both finally fell asleep, and the occupants of the other tent did as well. I know this because later on something caused me to wake up. I was just conscious of being conscious -- and then, through the thin wall of the tent I saw the car flash its brakelights! And it made a soft whirring noise!

I looked at my watch -- it was midnight. It was midnight and we were at a campsite a million miles away from civilization, with two darling small children, and someone was in our car -- which we had left unlocked. Someone was stealing my money, credit cards, and perhaps even the car. And then they would come and kill us. I tried to find my car keys, which I knew were in the tent somewhere, but couldn't find them. (Not sure what I was going to do with them -- maybe lock the thief into the car?) Baby B was sound asleep, lying next to the tent opening. I leaned over him and hissed in the direction of the other tent to try to wake up Rocket Boy, but there was no response.

I was terrified. What could I do? Should I scream? (wake up the kids, disturb the other campers, annoy whoever was stealing my wallet -- maybe they would come out of the car with a knife or a gun) Put on my shoes (if I could find them), crawl awkwardly over Baby B, and go out and investigate? What if it was a bear? I kept calling softly to Rocket Boy. Why didn't the man wake up? Then I found my flashlight, so I pointed it at the car. Maybe if the person in the car realized that someone was awake, they would go away. Sure enough, I heard more noises. A car door opened. "Who's there?" I said, in a really mean, loud voice.

"It's me!" It was Rocket Boy. Of course. He had been unable to sleep in the cramped little tent, so had gotten up to walk around and then tried to sleep in the car.

I was so relieved that I was not even mad at him. But then it was hard to get back to sleep (especially with the moon shining full into the tent).

Later, I did fall asleep, but it got cold in the tent and I kept waking up.

Let's just say that at 6 am when the sun woke me up for good, I was pretty tired. Rocket Boy was even worse off -- he'd hardly slept a wink. But as I looked over at Baby B, snoozing soundly in his sleeping bag, I was a proud and happy mom.

This is getting long, so I'll go to bed (I'm so tired!) and tell the rest of the story tomorrow.