A fine and pleasant misery

Our recent family camping trip made me think of Patrick McManus’ book, “A Fine and Pleasant Misery.”

I mean, I thought I knew what I was getting into. I had camped before. I had backpacked, even, and camped far away from cars and running water. But I didn’t factor in how years ago that was, or how different camping is with kids.

First of all, there was the packing. This came at the end of a few days of visiting family, and all I really wanted to do was pour a glass of wine and relax. And instead of my usual packing mantra—pack a little because we’ll have access to washing machines—I had to think about just exactly how many outfits can Jameson go through in a day. And what if it is cold? What if it rains? (except I did, in fact, forget all of our rain gear)

Then there was the driving. We had originally planned to go to a campground near Sleeping Bear Dunes that would have been about a four hour drive. Upon discovery that they didn’t take reservations, we decided to go to Lelanou State Park, way up in the pinky finger of Michigan. Oops… now we need to factor in a few more hours of car time. With kids who don’t always do so well in the car.

(And I won’t even bring up the fact that, on the way home from my in-laws Stefan casually mentions that there aren’t showers in the campground… I thought we were car-camping, which meant showers and hot water and some of the comforts of life! Poor Stefan, hopefully he recovered from the piercing stare I gave him.)

Then we arrive at the campsite, after everyone was nearly at their wits end from Jameson’s complaining and playing incessant games with Alex to keep him entertained (“next person to see a motorcycle wins!”), we discovered that our campsite was awful. I mean, so awful I was ready to break down and cry—or head to the nearest hotel. It was at the bottom of a U-shaped driveway, so it was surrounded on three sides by road. There was no privacy at all, and once the car was parked we may have had enough room to squeeze in the tent, but not much else.

On a whim I sent Stefan back to the ranger station to see if there were any spots still open. I had noticed on the map that a few of the sites weren’t ‘reservable’—they were purposefully left for last minute arrivals. Luck, finally, was on our side and we secured a very large, wooded site close to the lake.

But, strangely, there were all these things I had conveniently forgotten about camping.

Like the bugs… we had flies hovering, constantly, around any food we were preparing or eating. Sometimes they nipped at our legs and arms.

Or not having a clean place to sit down (and it takes a few days to get used to the dirt… at least for me). Our sticky picnic table was the only option.

Like how little kids gravitate towards dirt. Constantly. Every time we went to eat, I noticed that Jameson’s hands were caked with dirt. I’m still cleaning sand out of his ears from his romps on the beaches.

Or how forgetful a six-year-old can be when he’s doing something exciting. And so the zipper on the tent was left unzipped a few too many times and all sorts of bugs let themselves in. Strange as it may sound, I actually had trouble sleeping with bugs walking over my face at night. (not to mention how noisy other campers can be—like the poker game that went until 2am—or even how much noise we all make sleeping in one tent!)

And then the things we couldn’t prepare for…

Jameson brought a little cold with him, and shared it with the rest of us. It made him cranky for a day or two—including a 30 minute melt-down after I dared to WIPE HIS NOSE—and then made the rest of us miserable too. Remember my sleeping problems?? The second and third night I had to sleep with bunches of tissues because of constant drainage, and then the burning throat pain…

We checked the weather forecast before leaving and were hopeful it was accurate—60% chance of rain on Saturday, but otherwise clear. Ha! No such luck… the first night we awoke to rain and scrambled around to secure our bags of clothes. Then we had substantial rain during nap-time on Friday (how do you keep two little boys happy in the tent during rain, especially when one was awoken prematurely from his nap??) and big storms on Saturday.

But still, now that I am away from the grit and the bugs and the mess of it all, there are a few things that keep coming to the forefront of my mind…

On the first night, we crossed a small patch of water and made it out to the “Fingernail on the pinky” of Michigan, where Stefan and I delighted in the view as Jameson and Alex threw rock after rock after rock.
Since the beach areas at the campsite weren’t really beaches—but rocks covered in algae—we went to other local beaches to throw rocks and enjoy the frigid water. These were truly the best of times—we put the boys in their swimsuits and let them wade in as far as they dared. Rock after rock was thrown. The boys laughed and played together for hours, as we searched for Petosky stones and other interesting rocks.

After my most horrible night of very little sleep, I knew I needed nap. In fact, all that morning I had barely hung on to being civil. Jameson settled down quickly, and then Alex and I snuck in quietly and laid down for a rest. Jameson woke up before we were ready to be awake—so Stefan took him out for a walk. (truly, I have never, ever been more thankful to be in this parenting thing with a partner!) Alex and I slept for another hour and then woke up to beautiful, clear weather and even more clear dispositions.

Following that great nap, we all felt adventurous again, so we packed up all our dinner supplies and headed back to our favorite beach—Christmas Cove. We played for hours, and only by a wonderful dinner of Curry Couscous, made with vegetables from our garden and from our share of Tantre Farm vegetables. We mixed in some baked beans—and trust me—it was just amazing.

Speaking of food, we ate very well during this trip. Stefan is a great outdoors cook, and kept us full with some great dinners. My specialty was breakfast, where I cooked up oatmeal with brown sugar, walnuts, sunflower seeds, and fresh peaches. (Alex had his own view of a delicious camping breakfast—he had convinced me to let him get some pop tarts… but at least I brought the “less-junky” kind from the health-food store) And then there was the peach cobbler made from fresh Michigan peaches—bought that day directly from the farmer—cooked in the Dutch oven in the fire. Now there’s something to get excited about.

Another one of my favorite memories revolves around food—we also bought some fresh cherries from the back of a farmer’s truck. We had them in the car with us on one of our drives to a beach. Since we were on a beautiful but rarely-travelled back road, we all had a blast spitting the cherry pits out the windows. “Dad, watch THIS one… look how far it goes!”


Come to think of it… it was a pretty decent trip. With a lot of misery. So maybe Patrick McManus does say it all… it was a FINE AND PLEASANT MISERY.

Click here for more miserable camping pictures.