NOT A Happy Camper

To say that my first camping experience was a little rough is a gross understatement. It can be best described as mildly traumatic. Allow me to start from the beginning.

When Keri, Emily, and I left in the pouring rain to hike the 4 miles to Wranger Lake, we hardly thought twice about the weather since it rains daily here. We were going to meet Adam, Lance, and Tommy, who had ventured to our campsite and set up camp the day before. Having never been camping, Emily and I were anxious and ready to get to the campsite. So, with at least 10 pounds of gear and provisions on each of our backs, our rain gear donned, and a ride to our trailhead, we were on our way.

Immediately we encountered our first challenge which, in hindsight, I think we should have considered more seriously as an omen: a hail storm. Hiking through the marsh due to a recent abundance of precipitation is hard enough without fighting 30 mph winds and hail hitting you in the face. Yet, we traveled on. (For me, this was more because we got a ride to the trailhead. Therefore, it would have been a longer hike back home to Canyon than to the campground.) We kept ourselves distracted by calling "Hey, bear!" every 5 seconds, and hoping aloud that the guys had a fire going at the campsite despite the weather. Along the way, we passed our first bison of the journey (very common everywhere in the park), but we failed to give it nearly as much room as we should have. So sue us, we were a little preoccupied fighting a hail storm.

Before leaving for the camping trip that day, I received an echo of a warning from the backcountry office that I had heard from the boys the day before: that warning was that there was a river, Sour Creek, which we would have to treck across to get to our campsite. Well, after about a mile (by this time the hail at fortunately ceased, but it was still raining), we came across what I would describe as a decently-sized stream, one that we could easily leap over. I, the least experienced camper of us all, was optimistic that this was the river about which we were warned. But as a group we came to the concensus that when we got to the infamous river, there would be no doubt in our mind that it was the one. So, after another mile or so when we came to a river that was too wide for us to leap, we were positive this had to be it. We came prepared with sandals to wade through it, but opted instead to go straight in with our hiking boots, since they were already soaking wet anyway. On the other side, we congratulated one another on our successful crossing of the river and kept moving.

Another very chilly mile later, we realized just how sorely mistaken we had been: here we came face-to-face with a river that made the previous one seem like a trickle of a stream. We had no doubt whatsoever that this was the river about which we were cautioned. Having no other option and greatly anticipating the warm campfire that we hoped was waiting for us, we trecked across the 5-foot wide, 2-feet deep river, squealing like girls all the way.

We finally arrived to our campsite a half hour later, soaking wet, but happy to see our friends, and even happier to see that they had managed to get a fire started despite the weather. When we got there, the guys confessed the bets they had going that we would turn around and go home when we saw the river, and us girls couldn't have been prouder. The rain had stopped at this point, but it had gotten colder, about 40 degrees. Regardless, we had a great time around the warm campfire, eating smores and laughing into the night.

Upon awakening the next morning from perhaps the worst night of sleep in my life, we found that it had been raining for hours. Even though I had managed to stay relatively dry, most of our clothes and shoes were soaked. My sleeping bag for one did an inadequate job of keeping me warm all night, as did the 5 layers I wore all night. It was a frigid morning, not much warmer than the overnight low had been. After breakfast we took awhile to get the wet gear packed up, and in low spirits our crew started its long, soggy treck home.

As high as the water had been along the trail there, it was certainly much higher on the way back due to the rain. This meant that (you guessed it!) the river we had crossed had risen significantly. When the guys valiently volunteered to cross first, we saw just how deep it was: closer to 3 feet than 2. The brave girls I was with crossed fearlessly even though the water reached their hips. I'm not sure if it was the pitiful look I was wearing on my face, or just the air of dread that was inevitably encompassing me, but whatever it was, my friend Tommy who had already crossed came back and carried me and my heavy pack across the river on his back.

I will refrain from going into much more detail about the trip back. Aside from a few bison detours, another stream mishap, and the return of the rain, it is probably pretty predictable. To be fair, I should mention that the rain had cast a mystical blanket of fog upon the mountains, and I managed to enjoy the beautiful view in spite of my discomfort. Also, we received a ride from a friend from the trailhead so that we didn't have to hike another 4 miles home. We went straight to the EDR to eat, of course, and our friends who saw us inquired as to why we looked like we had been through hell and back, to which we replied simply, "Don't ask."

For your statistical pleasure, I have compiled a feature entitled:

My Camping Trip By the Numbers

Number of campers- 9
Hours total- 19
Miles traveled- 8 round trip
Detours due to bison- 3
Inches of rain- approximately 3
Rivers forged- 6 (3 there, 3 back)
Smores I consumed- At least 4. I lost count.
Layers of shirts I wore- 5 (plus scarf, hat, and gloves)
Hours of sleep- 3 very cold hours. maybe.

Needless to say, it will be awhile before I'll be able to make a return overnight trip to the backcountry. I have been reassured that I have been through the worst, and that most camping experiences are much more enjoyable. I am proud that I made it through (seriously, I didn't know I had it in me), but I will likely think twice about camping again: as of right now I have no intention to do so whatsoever. Stay tuned to see if my friends are able to convince me to camp again for the rest of the summer. I much prefer the warmth and comfort of my own bed, and really, can you possibly blame me?