My childhood memories of summer are full of camping, with my parents, but mostly with my grandparents. Sometimes in the mountains, but mostly at the coast, every summer included at least a week of traveling to a campground to enjoy the beauty of God's creation, up close and personal!
Our camping began in a tent, a huge blue tent, family sized tent. Oh, it was a beauty. Large enough to sleep our whole family, with a screened in room as well as the sleeping area. I remember the sound and smell of the plastic as we wrestled to set up it up, pounding in the stakes, pulling tight the ropes, rolling up the windows to allow it to air out during the day. The tent was hot, the ground was hard, sand was everywhere, but to us it was perfect, until.....the pop up...
Oh, what a joyous day, a pop up! No more sleeping on the ground, And by this time, my sister and I were camping with our grandparents on our own. Climbing up into the big van in the early morning or dead of night, pulling the pop up behind us, we would head to the Ponderosa Campground, in Myrtle Beach SC. Backing into a campsite was quite an adventure, and even more so in the dark! Unhooking from the van, cranking the handle till all the little bubbles on the built in levels were in the middle of the little black lines.Pulling out the sides, snapping them shut, making the beds ... often in the middle of the night when we were worn out and sleepy... or in the middle of the day when all we really wanted to do was go swim! And it was perfect, until ....
..... my grandparents made the most wonderful purchase they could have ever made! A real, hard bodied camper. A Tauras Camper, beige with brown and orange stripes. Big enough to sleep 7 people, well, 7 people really close together. No more cranking up the top, and sliding out the sides and snapping them shut. Now you just backed in, leveled it out and you were done! And, joy of joys, a bathroom! The tiniest bathroom I had ever seen, but at least we did not have to go to the bathhouse in the dark in the night anymore!
Even with all these different ways to camp, there are some things that remained the same, no matter what we were staying in at the time. Crawling in bed and having a hard time sleeping because it was so quiet, expect for the thousands of crickets! Waking up way too early as the sun peeked in between the curtains. The aroma of coffee and bacon wafting across the campground. My grandfathers daily strolls through the campground, chatting about life with anyone who would spare a moment to listen.
The long walk down the dusty road to get the the beach, running down the hill, carrying everything we needed for several hours on the sand. Seeing the "swash" and the bridge to the dune that hid the ocean just out of our sight. The sound of the ocean waves pounding the shore, children laughing and seagulls crying. The warmth of the sun beating on your shoulders, the hot sand burning your feet, and the first cool touch of the ocean water rushing over your toes.The fear and excitement as the waves rush toward you, throwing you to the shore and then pulling you back out to play some more. The smell of Coppertone and Hawaiian Tropic mixed with the warm salt air.
The LONG walk back to the campsite, dragging all the stuff you never really used on the sand, sounds of bathhouse showers and the smell of pine sole when they had just been cleaned. Granny's salmon cakes cooking on the gas stove. The crackling fire, the smell, the taste, the feel of campfire smoke and bug spray on your skin, and the daily mosquito spray truck running in the evening with children chasing behind it on their bikes.
The memories of laughter, and cigar smoke and and the gentle rebuke "now Preston" ... and knowing that you are loved beyond measure, just because you are you, and you are theirs...and it was perfect.
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