My first camping trip with Henry was a
complete success. I planned conservatively and booked a single night at a
campground around 60 miles away. If the weather turned poor or something else
went sideways, we could chuck everything in the Ranger and be home in a little
over an hour.
Thankfully, nothing of the sort happened. As
I began digging the gear out of the garage, Henry paced inside the house
wearing his hat, windbreaker, and boots. We were still an hour away from being
ready to leave, but Henry was ready at that moment. It was very exciting to
know he was that pumped about the trip, though it did put the pressure on Dad
to make sure I delivered.
We settled into Granite Creek later that
afternoon. Henry eagerly helped pitch the 2-man tent, wiggled around inside it,
and then headed down to the creek with his excavator and dump truck. I snapped
pictures of him and read a book as he dug in the gravel, drove cars in and out
of the water, stomped around in his XTRA-TUF boots, and happily got dirtier and
dirtier. The blaring sun fooled us into forgetting that 7pm was upon us and we
still hadn’t eaten dinner.
With hot dogs in our stomachs we then
loaded up the bike trailer and pedalled down the trail towards Hope. Henry
dozed off on our ride, but soon perked up when we pulled into camp and his ears
caught wind of the word “s’mores.”
The midnight sun was a bit of a challenge
for tent sleeping, but Henry did fall asleep somewhat near his normal time. The
problem was in waking up at 6:30 thanks to the blazing sunlight. After a few
pancakes we found ourselves cleaning up camp and bound for the Girdwood’s playground.
All around it was a victory. We’ve already
booked 2 nights in August at another campground, which Henry is very pumped
about. Now we need to get a larger tent and get Mommy and Piper out there next
summer.
The greatest moment -- the water pump. Over and over again, the water pump.