Experiences, anecdotes, tips, how-tos, hiking, nature, motherhood, memories.

Adventures in Camping with Kids

Camping with kids is like pitching a tent upside down. Both are bound to fill with laughter and raindrops.

--Victoria Marie

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

The Importance of Soap When Camping with Teens

            
Upper Peninsula Lake Michigan
It didn't rain every day!
Spring makes me think of rain used to awaken the earth from its winter slumber.  Bulbs begin to bloom, trees begin to bud, lawns look greener, and families begin to consider camping trip vacations.  For tips on planning that family camping trip, please read here.  

            There is a connection between rain and camping.  Depending on length and destination of the camping trip, i.e. if you’re not camping in a desert, rain will be a part of the experience.  Be ready for it. 

The idea is to stay warm and dry when hiking with the family.  Bring quilted raincoats or wind breakers.  Dress in layers; short sleeve, flannel shirts, sweatshirts, and where nylon pants if possible.  Synthetic fabrics dry faster than heavy cotton when they get wet.  Even in summer rain can chill family hikers if they become drenched on the trail.  Always have a second pair of shoes to change into once you return to camp.  And stick newspaper into wet sneakers or hiking boots.  Somehow the pulpy paper draws the water out of the shoe.  It’s amazing.  Try it!

Rain can make trails muddy.  Adults and teens hiking in summertime—even in the rain—need showers.  After hiking in the rain through the forest in Upper Peninsula, Michigan, the children decided they didn’t need showers. 

“Can’t we just rinse off in the rain in our bathing suits when we get back to camp?”  Our son asked.

Leave it to the boy, but then his sisters instantly agreed.  My husband shook his head.

I glanced outside.  The rain had picked up.  Torrential rains ripped through the sky.  Ooo’s rang out in the van as lightning struck.  Then the children began counting to see how far away the storm was.  The boom of thunder startled everyone as we watched the pines along the road dance in the wind.

“First,” I said, turning my attention back to the children.  “Rinsing won’t be enough.”

“Why not?”  A twin asked.

“Because,” I began.

“We’re technically rinsed already,” our brilliant second daughter pointed out.

“Yes, but,” I started again.

“We just put on new clothes, Mom,” the oldest informed me.

My husband gripped the steering wheel all the tighter, as the wind buffeted the van from outside.

I sighed.  “You need soap,” I told the kids.  “You’ll feel better in clean clothes after your body’s washed.  Besides, it’s never a good idea to stand out in the rain, unprotected, during a thunderstorm.”

“Maybe it’ll stop,” the other twin piped up.

I rolled my eyes.  I hoped it would stop.  But it didn’t.  We changed into dry clothes once we returned to camp, but the flies followed us into the camper. 

Rain ripped through camp, huge puddles running everywhere. 

We tried to play games in the camper.  When we couldn’t stand the smell any longer, my husband drove us to the showers.  Everyone washed, dried off, and dressed.  Then became drenched—again—running to the van, and then to the camper.  More wet clothes to hang under the camper awning, plus the bath towels.  We ran out of clothes line, so I bunched the clothing together.  Clean on one side.  Wet dog on the other.  We left the wet sneakers outside the camper to keep wild animals from seeking shelter under our awning and amongst our laundry. 
  
Showers—complete with soap—are important for families sharing small living spaces when camping for a few weeks. 

Rain, it’s a part of spring and camping.  The only consolation?  Chances are it won’t rain every day.   

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Animals You Find on the Trail: The Importance of Maintaining Distance

Into the woods on another adventure
This can be more difficult than it seems depending upon the beast.  Sometimes you don’t notice them until you’re in front of them.  We’ve met many creatures while camping with the family; snakes and skunks, deer and bear.  Most were on or by the trail.  Sometimes we were on ranger hikes.   However, this time we were on our own, hiking back to the van on a coastal trail on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia.  
                              
We had hiked to a swift moving, icy stream lined with stone and rock.  By the time we got there we were hot and tired.  I must admit, I’m kind of strange.  I like to shed shoes and socks and test the water no matter how cold it is.  By the way, so do my children.  My husband’s the only normal one.  He’s content to remain along the stream bank, shifting the forces of water by shifting rocks.  

The children usually clamber over boulders to see who can get the farthest boulder to shed shoes.  Unfortunately, this time our oldest daughter’s shoe slipped from the boulder and caught in the current.  I screamed for her to jump in and get it before it disappeared around the bend, for we had a distance to hike back to the van.  To my surprise, my husband braved the frigid water to retrieve the floating shoe.

Everyone cheered, although I could see his teeth chattering as he glared, not at our daughter, but rather at me for starting this ritual of shedding shoes and testing mountain water.  I did a quick dip with my feet and then put on my shoes.  So did the children.  Hiding my smile, I cautioned them not to giggle as their father squished past us to the trail.  We followed behind.

As we ventured into the darkened wood, as the trail curled across the forest floor, suddenly we spied a dark mass moving close to the ground.  My husband hushed the children and stood still.  Since my husband squished as he walked, I moved a bit closer to see what it was.

A moose lay in the mud of the well-trodden trail.  He was facing away from us.  We decided the best thing to do was to move off the trail, yet remain near to it so as not to get lost.  We weren’t sure of the distance needed between us and the moose to keep it calm.  He seemed to be enjoying his mud bath this hot summer day.  But this was a straight out, straight back trail, not a loop.  We weren’t about to blaze a new trail through the forest to find a roadway with five young children in tow.

We told the children to remain silent and ventured off the trail by at least ten feet from the animal, keeping a wide berth.  Stepping lightly, I held the beast’s gaze.  He eyed all seven of us, flicked his tail, shook his massive head.  His antlers made a twin gasped and I held her hand.  Slowly, in single file, we passed the animal, remaining off the trail until it turned out of sight of the moose.  

No matter how docile some of these wild animals may seem, as they nose around your campsite looking for food, make no mistake.  They are wild animals.  Most of the danger comes when people inadvertently slip between a mother and baby.  The pair could be a distance apart, but the mother is always watching. 

Maintain a distance between you and any wild animal you meet.  Keep eye contact if you can and move slowly.  It’s best if you just back up until you are out of sight and then turn around the way you came.  Unfortunately for us, we needed to get back to our van, so we needed to approach and pass the moose. 


Have you ever met a wild animal on a hike?  

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Nutrition on the Trail: The Lunchtime Saga

            
Of course they're tired on the trail. 
It was the third week of peanut butter and jelly.
 
Many times we camp as a family for three weeks, visiting national and state parks, hiking across mountains, through forests and deserts during the day.  Being on that “tent” budget and purchasing a few new experiences once in a while, we tend to brown-bag our mid-day meals.  

No big deal, right?  We pack lunches most of the year.  However for some reason when we camp, the children balk at our trail time lunches. 

My father always told me if the children are hungry, they’ll eat. 

Maybe.  But not just anything.

When hiking on a trail, you need to pack non-perishable, portable food that offers nourishment and stamina for each hiker.  Our hikes usually take hours.  It is imperative that young children eat foods while on the trail that offer energy.  Children have fewer reserves than adults.  They need to eat more often to keep their energy levels up. 

Where we got our children to drink water on the trail, they still won’t eat just anything.  I try to mix it up a bit.  Peanut butter and grape jelly on white bread.  Peanut butter and strawberry jam on wheat bread.  Only peanut butter on one slice of bread folded—not cut.  Peanut butter on celery, “ants on a log” for me and my husband [peanut butter on celery with raisins], and peanut butter only or with a choice of jellies on saltines, club crackers, or Ritz crackers.

            After one week on the road, the children scatter when I ask what their lunchtime choice of the day is and reach for the peanut butter jar.  

            We’ve tried the packaged cheese and crackers and peanut butter crackers.  The children will only eat “freshly spread” peanut butter on “crisp” crackers.  They won’t eat cashews, almonds, or even peanuts.  Only peanut butter.  We’ve tried the various protein or trail mix bars, but no matter how many chocolate chips are inside or chocolate on the bottom, the children think they take too long to chew. 

Fresh fruit doesn’t keep but a day or two when camping in the summer.  That’s what made the fresh watermelon such a treat after we entertained fellow campers setting up camp.  Our children don’t want apples, and grapes become juice by lunchtime in the backpack.  And the grapes that don’t are too “squishy,” according to the children, to eat.  They won’t eat dried fruit. 

            I’m reduced to pretzels, Wheat Thins, and Cheerios on the trail.  Sugar is not helpful in a summertime hike.  The body requires salt because of moisture lost through sweat.  Cheerios are a concession because we know our son will eat them.    

            Therefore, I suggest you start offering nutritious packaged protein bars to your young children now, before you hit the trails.  Cut them up on a plate as a snack.  Get the children used to a variety of more sturdy fruit and perhaps add dried fruit to your menus.  Feed them “ants on the log” at home and mix some granola into your jellies in peanut butter sandwiches or try the Nutella, which our children hate.  Try baby carrots or apple slices with peanut butter or Nutella. 

Picky eating shall pass, my husband assures me.  I still try all these suggestions every once in a while, hoping the children’s taste buds will change.  Who knows?  Maybe this summer the children won’t run from the sight of the peanut butter jar.  Unless you can think of another way to dress up peanut butter that my children may like.  Any suggestions are welcome.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Weather Changes Suddenly in the Mountains: When Hiking with Children Be Prepared

The Alpine Visitors' Center at
Rocky Mountain National Park
Here we are in the winter season, and as the children say their nightly prayers, they slip in a prayer for snow.  As an added plea, they stick a piece of silverware under their pillows before they go to sleep, to help them dream about snow. 

And all we get is rain.  I still don’t understand the concept of placing spoons under your pillow at night for snow, but the children assure me that their friends do it, too.  At least when I run out of spoons, I know where to find them.  Funny what children pray for sometimes. 
           
However, when we listen to our children’s prayers at night while camping, we hear a prayer for dry weather and add one of our own.  Rain can make for damp campers.  And damp forests.  And damp mountains.  And damp…well, you get the idea.  And the children are fine with all that, most of the time.  What they can’t understand is when the campground pool is closed because of a rain storm.

            “We’re wet anyway,” my seven-year-old would complain.  “Why can’t we play in the pool?”

            It’s all about the severity of the rainstorm and if there’s thunder.  No one should be in the pool or a large body of water during a thunderstorm. 

            You should also not be on top of bald rock during a lightning storm. 

When we visited the tundra at Rocky Mountain National Park, the park ranger opened his daily talks with, “Make sure you’re off the tundra by 3 p.m. because thunderstorms seem to hit precisely at 3.”

            Interesting, we thought.  We wanted to see it.
            We hiked on marked trails only, always a good idea when hiking with children.  We hiked in the morning and early afternoon, hiking from the visitors’ center at a lower elevation, up onto the tundra, but made sure we were back at the visitor’s center by 3. 

As a family who didn’t watch a clock when we camped and hiked, we still knew the hour was approaching 3 p.m.  It was like watching a movie. 

The sky blackened.  The wind howled.  We needed to be inside the visitors’ center by this time as hail mixed with rain began pelting anything in sight. 

Suddenly, the sky lit brilliantly in craggy, jolting lines. 

The children oooed and ahhed from the safety of the plate-glass windows at the Visitors’ Center at Rocky Mountain National Park. 

And then as fast as the storm came up, it stopped.

We waited a little longer, and then ventured out upon the tundra.  The air smelled earthy and fresh.  Lichen, clinging to its gritty gray host, popped in brilliant patches of rust and yellow green.  We shivered as the temperature had dropped.  Hence the reason you should wear layers when hiking.  Quilted raincoats or windbreakers come in handy, whether you tie them around your waist when not in use or shove them into a daypack.    

Another tip to think about is whenever shoes are wet after a hike, store them outside the trailer when at the campground or in the back of your vehicle when driving to save everyone from asking who brought the skunk along.  Never store wet shoes in a closed-down camper.  The entire little vacation home will need to be dipped in febreze if you do.


I hope your 2015 will be dipped in laughter and memories.  Happy New Year!

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Camping with Kids: Keeping Clean at Camp

It’s tough camping with four independent young ladies.  No, they help out at camp, as much as they can.  No, they don’t complain on the trail…much.  It’s the showering.  Just as I'd wait as long as possible with the laundry [read it here], when the children were little, I’d wait until we could barely sleep in one tiny pop-up trailer before taking my flock to the showers.
Look, Mom, 4 states at once!

            Why?  Many reasons.  It’s our vacation.  We’re tired from hiking.  There’s a line at the ladies' showers.  We can rinse off in the pool.  Okay, that last one is the children’s excuse—not mine!  

My husband had it easy.  He had one charge to look after—and his had short hair!  The ladies all had long hair. 

I’ve notice, camping with the children all these years, that even when camping, most women shower all the time.  Hence, there is always a line at the ladies’ showers.

But I had a system.  It only backfired once that I can recall.

It was the second night of trying to shower while we were visiting a popular desert section of Colorado, and I gathered all the toiletries and towels and marched my girls to the line forming at the ladies’ showers.  It was already 15 women long.  Nothing to do but wait this time.  I would always shower last, in case the girls needed something.

By the time the twins were ready for showers, I had figured out how to adjust the temperature settings by helping my older girls.  But the twins didn’t want help.  They both went into separate stalls and locked the doors behind them.

“Are you sure you can turn it on?”  I walked back and forth, questioning the closed doors.
Nothing.
Then one twin opened the door.  She poked her head out.  “It doesn’t work.”
I hurriedly turned the shower on and adjusted the temperature for her.  Then waited by the other door. 
Nothing.  No water sounds.  No words.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yea,” she chirped.

Suddenly, a lady came out of the adjoining shower.  I jumped in so as not to lose it and tapped on the changing room wall.  “I’m next door to you, honey.”

Still no sound from her stall.  Sometimes the twins can be stubborn.  I hung up my towel, placed the toiletry bag on the damp bench, and frowned.  The shower curtain was four inches short of the bottom of the shower and puddles formed in the changing area.  I sighed and took off my clothes. 

Then I noticed the toes come under the half wall between shower changing rooms.  I recognized those educated toes fluttering to get my attention and realized that my little girl hadn’t turned on the shower yet.

I tried to explain how to turn on the shower through the wall.  It didn’t work.  I wrapped myself in the towel and went to her door.
“Open up,” I shouted.
Once inside, I could see the tears of frustration in her eyes and I softened.  I showed her how to work the mechanism and checked the temperature. 
“These are tough,” I assured her.

When I returned to my shower stall, I found the door locked and legs under the half wall.
“That’s my shower!”  I pounded on the door.  She had to see my stuff in there.
I heard what sounded like French coming from the other side of the door.
“You still know that someone is using this shower,” I said, language barrier or no language barrier. 

She finally came out.  Yes, I did glare at her.

After my shower, I felt refreshed and pleased, realizing that I wouldn’t need to go through this again for at least a few days.  I attempted to dress in the now flooded changing room and dropped my last pair of clean underpants into the cruddy water.  I sighed.  Dried them with my towel and finished getting dressed.


            Such is the life of keeping clean at camp.  How about you?  Did you ever have troubles showering at camp?

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Keeping Children Safe in Crowded Vacation Areas

Disney World and balloons, a great combination
Now about that other time when the twins were five. 

We were visiting one of America’s best playgrounds for families:  Disney World in Orlando, Florida.  

I always worried about losing a child in crowds.  Only this time, it happened.  But I was prepared.

We were visiting Disney World in January during one of Florida’s rare cold snaps.  [Of course!]  I had each child wear their school backpacks to carry their autograph books for the characters, pens, water bottles, trinkets they purchased, and raincoats in case of rain. 

Like we do for our camping trips, we brought layers to wear.  We wore everything; short-sleeved shirts, long-sleeved shirts, sweatshirts, and raincoats.  Still we shivered.  Thank God for the It’s a Small World ride.  It was the only ride for young families—inside! 

Each day, I would buy a helium balloon at the park gate and tie it to the children’s backpack strap.  Instinctively, I counted balloons all day; each time we went into a restaurant, rode the monorail, watched the parades, or waited in line for a ride.  I held backpacks while the children rode the rides.

One day, as we left the monorail in another noisy swarm of people, I counted balloons above the heads.  Five.  Everyone got off.  We gathered our coats, camera, and collapsed double stroller and left the platform, heading up the swift escalator. 

Then for some reason, I decided to count balloons again.

One, two, three, four!  My heart stopped.

Just as we do when we hike, my husband was in front of the line of balloons; I, at the back of the line of children.  Frantically, I looked at my balloons and found one of the twins missing.

Above the din of music and conversations, I shouted to my husband.  Turning around on the escalator, I spied a balloon still on the platform in the throng of people. 

I screamed her name and the word balloon as I fought my way through the people jammed on the escalator, attempting to race down the up escalator.

I continued to scream balloon, pushing and shoving people out of my way to get to the platform before my little girl got swept onto the next train by the crowd.

Yes!  People stared at me and gave way.  I kept screaming balloon.  The train had come by this time.  Then a lady had cleared people away from a ballooned little girl who was crying and the crazy lady screaming balloon reached her in time. 

We both cried, sitting there on the train station floor.  I thanked the woman.

When a vacation spot is very busy and popular, such as Disney World, using balloons as markers can be a good idea.  Especially if you have more than two children.  The balloon allowed me to find my daughter from the escalator.  I could see the balloon above the crowd.  And of course, the kind lady who kept her from being swept into the train was an angel.

How about you?  Do you ever worry about losing your children in the crowds?

Thursday, October 2, 2014

From the Mountains to the Sea - Nova Scotia Harbors

Connected by the hips, but I know where they are.
We started small with the harbors along the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island.  Village harbors had fingers stretching out onto a mirror of icy blue.  Homes sat on spindly legs; a cloak of green warmed the hills and secured escarpments; lobster pots, most stacked neatly in hills.  Rainbows of coiled nets and ropes line the docks.

We moved on to Digby Neck with its beach of basalt, angular, chiseled cuts of rocks defying gravity as they perched on precipices.  The most glorious beach filled with the seven of us, my husband and I walking hand in hand along the water’s edge, sharing heartbeats, sharing smiles.  The children trailed behind drowning out the crashing of waves upon the shore with their hoops and hollers scaring the birds from the sand.

Peaceful, secure in nature.  Wild roses and hemlocks, ocean and brine filling the air with a myriad of fragrance.

Then my husband wanted to see the Tall Ships at Halifax Harbor.

“You can’t come this far and not,” he told me.

This is true, but unfamiliar cities make me nervous with five children.  Crowds, buses.  In nature, I always know where my children are.  They’re never quiet, remember?  But the festival, distances, and parking required we take a bus—all seven of us.  Of course we needed to scatter throughout the double bus with the accordion middle, a place the children loved to sit.  It was impossible to see everyone.        

The bus snaked through the city streets, toward the harbor and the ships.  At each stop, I’d stand up and scream to the children NOT to get off.  A cacophony of languages filled my ears.  I watched, unblinkingly, for my children to remain on the bus.  Crowds of people pushed them farther away. 
Once at the harbor, a world of ships greeted the crowd and my husband told me to relax.  I just kept counting children as we boarded ships and disembarked, as we walked along a pier, checked out the stockades, or watched the bagpipers play.  

Thousands of smartly dressed sailors told us of fore and aft, port and starboard.  We got lost each time—but we got lost together.  The children collected the stamps of various ships, marveled at the culture, the music and dance, the stone and clapboard buildings mixed with the ultra-modern skyscrapers of glass and metal.  And still I counted.

My husband finally tugged at my arm and broke my concentration. 

“They’re fine.  We’re both watching,” he reminded me.  “Enjoy the sights of the city.” 

Halifax is a vibrant city.  Sunshine reflected off harbor and skyscrapers that day, filling the hearts of my family.  I smiled.  The children were older now, the twins—our youngest—were nine.  They knew to listen and stay close to their parents.  There are two of us watching, just like when we hike in nature. 


This experience was much different from the time when the twins were five and we took them to another crowded vacation spot.  But sometimes I have trouble letting go of my memories.  Does that happen to you?  Have you ever worried about your children in a crowded place?