Camping - Nothing Else Like It!

 Camping – Nothing Else Like It!

By Bob West

Feb. 8, 1996

One summer, many years ago, two of my best buddies, Ray and Bob Sheets and I begged our parents to drive us to Kamiak Butte for an overnight camping trip. They always had some excuse not to do this…we were too young, it was too far, they didn’t have time, etc. They finally did relent and told us we could camp at “Trimbles Grove.” This is an area of approximately four acres located about a mile upriver from the city of Palouse. It once had a beautiful stand of pine trees, and was a very popular place for kids to play. Family, school, and church picnics were enjoyed there. It was a great place to find the first spring flowers. This was one of several spots where a bunch of us guys (sometimes even girls) would go “skinny dipping '' on the first warm spring day. In the late 30s, the property was sold, and the timber was logged off, destroying a very beautiful area.

As this land was bordered on one side by the river, and the other side by a deep cut that was dug when the tracks for the Washington, Idaho and Montana railroad were laid, there were no roads leading directly to it. Hiking up the railroad tracks was the best way to get there. Our parents explained to us since there was no way for them to transport our camping gear, we were on our own. No problem. We already had that figured out.

We each had a coaster wagon and would travel by wagon train as the pioneers did. We wanted to start at dawn but our parents made us wait until after lunch. I spent the entire morning packing and repacking my wagon. Quilts and blankets for my bed (no such thing as a sleeping bag in those days), a three-pound lard can with a handy bail for cooking, Mom’s large cast iron skillet, eating utensils, and my share of the grub.

Right after lunch, I pulled my heavily loaded wagon to my buddies’ house where everyone was ready and raring to go. Ray was the oldest so he was naturally elected wagon master. With a wave of his hand, his finger pointing eastward, it was “Wagons Ho!” We were on our way to a great adventure. The first part of the trip was smooth going, but when we came to the railroad tracks we found that traveling across railroad ties was far from easy. There was much jolting of our arms and shoulders in addition to the rattling and shaking of our pots and pans. A constant la thunk! La thunk! But it doesn't matter. This was but a small hardship as we were true pioneers on the open road.

It seemed like hours before we arrived at our campsite. We unpacked our wagons, made a fire pit, gathered enough wood for an all-night fire, and picked a spot for our beds. Each wanted to “our brave” the other, so we chose spots as far away from one another as possible.

After camp was set up, we had plenty of time to fish, catch crawdads, and skinny dip. I had also brought a pie pan of my mother’s to use for panning gold. I had been told that gold was found at the bottom end of a fast running rapid. I found a perfect spot for this but after a half hour of panning, I had dredged up one bottle cap, a piece of coal, and a horseshoe nail. Not one single gold nugget. Oh well.

None of us, of course, owned a watch, so we had no idea what time it was, but according to our stomachs it was dinnertime and I was in charge of cooking.

While my buddies started a fire, I prepared supper. I opened two large cans of Franco-American spaghetti. A large can of pork and beans was poured into the lard can, which was suspended over the fire on a stick. Everything was going great until the stick holding the beans burned in two, dropping the can, beans and all, into the skillet of spaghetti. I of course burned my fingers rescuing the beans, which I added to the spaghetti for a one-pan meal. Actually, it turned out to be very tasty. But what food isn’t good when it is flavored with natural condiments such as ashes, leaves, pine needles, bugs, and sand? We toasted marshmallows for dessert and ended our meal.

There were some weeds that grew abundantly in this area which we called Indian Tobacco. I thought I was going to be the “big man” to my fellow campers. I had sneaked into town the day before and bought a corncob pipe at the Pastime Tavern for a nickel. As I got this out, to my surprise Ray and Bob also brought out similar pipes from somewhere in their camping gear! We filled our corn cobs with this “tobacco” and sat around the fire smiling. We had a really big time. No one would admit it tasted terrible, made us dizzy and nauseous, and burned our tongues. Was this fun or what?

We planned to stay up all night, as there was no one to tell us to go to bed, but we barely lasted until dark. Besides, we weren't feeling too well. I remember thinking as I crawled into bed, “This is really the life!” About a half-hour later though, I began to change my mind. I could feel my bed was getting very hard and was full of sand and I was cold. I began to wish I was back home with my own warm and soft pillows.

Things got worse. Huge coyotes began howling right above my head. Owls began making tremendous hooting noises. I covered my head, not wanting to let anyone know I was a little scared. I peeked out of the covers and from the corner of my eye I saw that both Bob and Ray were up and standing by the fire. I slowly got out of bed, so as not to appear anxious, and joined them. We then mutually agreed to pool our blankets and sleep together for warmth. No one would admit to being scared, being cold was fine. We had been in bed only a short time when I felt something crawling on my legs. Ray shouted, “I’ve been stung!” We jumped up and tore the bed apart and sure enough, we had placed it over the entrance to a yellow jacket’s nest. We moved a few feet away and crawled back into our damp blankets. When we got up the next morning, everyone declared we had a wonderful night’s rest.

The fire had gone out. We gathered more fire-making materials only to find our one box of penny matches had been left on the wet sand and were ruined. We were in more trouble. We felt we were starving to death. But Mother Sheets had made pancake batter for us and put it in a large glass jug, but since we had no way to fry these cakes, someone came up with a great idea. We would add the maple syrup to the batter, mix it well and have something like a milkshake. We tried this, but as hungry as we were, it tasted horrible.

By this time we had to admit we were tired and unhappy campers. We were hungry, cold, wet, covered with mosquito bites and bee stings, and burned with hot coals. You name it we had it. There was no argument when I mentioned heading home. We loaded our gear into our wagons and started the long trek back. I was on my last leg when I finally arrived home. For once I didn’t argue with Mom about taking a bath. I then ate three bowls of Wheaties “The Breakfast of Champions” and crawled into my own soft bed for a long, long nap.

In spite of all this (or maybe because of it) I still love to go camping. But now, with our mattresses, tents, Coleman lanterns, and all the other “conveyances” camping will never have the same sense of adventure and excitement experienced in the “Tom Sawyer” era of my boyhood.