WOW... you expect us to top THAT? :)

I was going to start in on a camping-in-the-backyard story with shredded cheese, too much alchohol, and a gay guy, but I don't think that would work. :)

Hmm...

There was the time I made camp well after dark, went down to the creek to pump water, and saw two eyes glowing at the edge of my headlamp's range. I love bears, but did not want to meet one under these circumstances. Was even more worried when I spotted smaller eyes nearby. Then I figured out it was a doe with fawn and whew! I relaxed.

Then there was the time I woke up at 7,000' near a beautiful alpine lake. I was working as a wilderness ranger at the time, and our boss (coolest boss I have ever worked for) had given us specific unwritten rules for ranger skinnydipping. She said, "rule one - hide your uniform so no one knows it's the ranger". So I did. Went for a swim in the sunshine, on top of the world. Climbed out to air dry on a big rock, and played my flute in thanks. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted three hikers (2 male, 1 female) coming down from the peak above. I could either stop my song and look all embarassed, or finish it and casually slip away. I chose the latter. I slipped my pants on, but stashed my ranger shirt under an arm so they wouldn't see the Forest Service patch. But my shovel! I hadn't thought about my shovel! I couldn't leave it there without having some explaining to do back at ranger station. I couldn't carry it away in front of hikers without them knowing I was the ranger; who in their right mind (besides the ranger) carries a full-sized shovel when backpacking? So I grabbed my shovel and hiked off, putting on my best poker face and acting as if nothing was unusual.

None of them said anything, and no complaints were lodged.

Giving thanks for open-minded wilderness buffs
D.Thrush

When I was about 13, I was on a big organized camping trip with about 20 other kids. We stayed one night under the pavillion roof at a picnic area. I awoke comfortable, but in an unexpected place on the other side of the picnic area. All the othercampers had gotten an absolute soaking when a downpour sparked a surprise flood, but I was sleeping on a thick airmatress, like the ones people use in pools, and I had peacefully floated off to a quiet corner to sleep the rest of the night away.

Last time I went backpacking I tried to hike the JMT, from south to north.

One of the comforts I use is a foam cushion, and I usually have it tied to my backpack. It's similar to the knee cushions that gardiners use. I can tuck it under my butt when I sit down to catch my breath, and then it will follow me when I get up to walk away. Also, using the cushion keeps the seat of my jeans from getting shredded on weather-roughened rocks.

Somewhere north of Crabtree Meadows, I met a really cute gal in Forestry uniform. She wanted to look at my permit, so I dropped my pack, and offered to let her sit on the cushion. As I slipped it loose from its leash, I told her "It's the second-best seat in the valley". She bit at that line, and asked me "What's the best seat in the valley?".

I just pointed at my mustache.

Oh, man...

We went camping in Big Sur, despite the warning of light rain. We put up our tent, with one tarp under it and one tarp "tented" over it. Everyone around us was snug in their RVs.

I had a hard time getting to sleep, because there was something uncomfy poking me in the back (we have since invested in camping pads!), but eventually I drifted off. I had a lot of really funky dreams, including one where I was floating in the ocean. I awakened - I can't remember why - in the dark and was pleased to find that I was totally, and utterly comfortable. My back felt supported, cushioned...

...sort of like being on a waterbed...

I lay there in the dark, KNOWING that our campsite was totally flooded and it's still pouring rain, and wondering if I should wake my partner up and say anything. This is how dumb I am when I'm half-asleep. I think things like this aren't so bad, really... After all, our tent had proven that it was marvelously waterproofed! I did wake Pookie up, however, and explained very calmly to him that we were nigh-on floating, moored only by our tent pegs, in our watertight tent.

We wound up busting down our campsite at about 4:30 AM, in the rain, wearing pretty much nothing but underwear and rain ponchos (we didn't want to get our clothes soaking wet), over our ankles in muddy water as it flowed into our campsite. The whole campground was pretty much flooded, but the RVers were quite snug and nobody was up but us. We put a spare tarp over everything in the back of the car and just piled the wet tent and tarps on top of that. We got in the car, wriggled into some pants, and started the engine to use the defroster to get rid of the sudden fog that clouded all the windows, from our wet selves and the wet gear.

Theeeeeen I noticed I was low on gas. No big deal, I figured, I saw a gas station right down the road from our campground.

Except that ALL gas in Big Sur is full-service, no self-serve, and the pumps were locked until they opened at 8:00 AM (the rest of Cali is self-serve, FYI). So we sat in the car in the gas station parking lot, wondering if we'd make it out and up to the nearest town. In the end, we gave it a go, and I coasted most of the way in neutral thanks to the sloping hills of the California coast.

We were laughing the whole time. Both of us just thought this was so ridiculous (and entirely due to our poor planning) that it was just funny in the end. We ate breakfast in a truck stop in our shorts and t-shirts, the only clean, dry clothing we had, and all the truckers stared at us because it was still pouring rain outside and we were still cracking up.