That's Okay By Me.: Kate's First Camping Trip

The Kang Weyants packed our tent and bug spray and headed to the woods for a couple of days. Having read "Curious George Goes Camping," "Fred and Ted Go Camping," and "Henry and Mudge and The Starry Night" a million times each, Kate was eager to finally experience camping firsthand.

We drove up the San Gabriel Mountains to an elevation of 6,500 feet and camped at "Buckhorn," a pretty campground along a creek, shaded by pine and cedar trees.

Kate was so excited, she belted out "Walk Like An Egyptian" and "Mickey" all the way up the mountain until Chris and I were ready to toss the Ipod off the cliff.

Next to our campsite was an old phone booth. Kate saw it and asked, "What's that??" I explained to her that a long, long, long time ago, people didn't have cell phones and used coin-operated public phones, some of which were in booths. Kate thought that was very strange. Then she whipped out her "cell phone" (compact mirror) and took a few calls by the fallen tree across the way. Chris wowed Kate by making an actual fire --"Look! A fire! How did you do that, Appa??" Then the smoked burned Kate's eyes, made her cough, and the

thrill was over. "I don't like fire."

Of course, as soon as she got a taste of the toasted marshmellow, her appreciation and respect for fire was reignited.

After dinner, Kate helped Chris hammer the tent stakes into the ground. And Chris kept all of his digits. For some reason, there was no end to Kate's fascination of the chopped-down tree ("the broken tree branch") near our site. Kate enjoyed checking on it every couple of hours ("It's still broken, Mom!") and touching the yellow sap and green stuff (lichen?) all over it.

I don't think Kate knew what to expect, because once we set up the tent, made the fire, and set up the picnic table, Kate said, "Are we camping yet?" "Let's go camping!"

Kate has always been a bookworm, carrying books with her wherever she goes, but her love of books was taken to new heights while camping. When she wasn't checking on the broken tree, shooing the bugs away, or dancing on her favorite rock, she had her nose stuck in a book.

At night when we were all reading inside the tent before bed, Kate put down her "Maisy Goes To Bed" book and asked me to read my book out loud to her. I was in the middle of William Trevor's "The Room," a very child-appropriate short story about a woman who cheats on her husband, a former murder suspect, in a hotel room. Because the woman's name was "Katherine" ("like me, Mom!"), Kate was instantly hooked. I skipped a few words here and there ("sleazy," "tart," "murder," for example) but Kate was gripped ("The cafe was crowded?" "It was raining outside and she didn't have an umbrella??" "I really like this story, Momma!"). This killed any reading Chris hoped to do that night. Thursday night was pretty quiet (aside from Kate's 2 AM night howlings), but Friday night was a completely different story. Chris and I were kept awake by barking dogs and large groups of people drinking, banging on a drum, blasting music, and shouting until the wee hours. There was even a party of Koreans laughing and yakking it up nearby. That noise was strangely comforting, however. Shockingly, thankfully, Kate snored through it all. Phew. Because there's nothing more appealing than having to confront a bunch of beer-guzzling headbangers, or drunk Koreans, in the middle of the night.

Overall, Kate did incredibly well, especially considering the heat and the swarms of bugs that were hovering around her face and body all day along ("Mom! The bugs are back in town!"). The bathrooms, a not-so-deep hole in the ground (yuk) were something out of a sci-fi-horror film but Kate rolled with it ("Ooh, it's stinky in here"). Luckily, we had a portable potty in the car and Kate used that in the middle of the night. Because there was no way we were walking to that bathroom in the pitch dark. By the last day, I had mosquito bites everywhere, including one my eyebrow and was ready to leave. Kate got no mosquito bites, lucky girl, and didn't want to go home.