With years of experience, I have learned a bit of diplomacy. When someone comes up with a really crazy idea, rather than saying “What in the world would make you say something as goofy that?” I have learned to say, “That is an interesting thought.” Friday, my normally sane and rational wife suggested we take the grandsons camping over at the cabin. Being the quick thinker I am, I said, “That is an interesting idea.”

I have nothing against camping. I have camped on top of mountains in sub-freezing temperatures where I slept on sharp rocks. It is not that I wanted to; this is where the elk were. A person can make concessions for hunting. Camping out of necessity is one thing but camping for the sake of camping is just craziness. We have a nice warm bed just a few miles away, complete with television and warm food.

While my wife was still thinking I actually meant, “That is an interesting idea,” she explained all the joys of blowing up air mattresses, cooking food over a campfire, and enjoying the camaraderie of sitting around the fire telling stories as we made s’mores. At that point, I knew we were going camping.

We loaded up enough food, blankets, pillows, and clothes to last the Donner party the winter. The boys were more than ready by the time we arrived to pick them up. They planned to fish, dine, fish some more, and lounge around the campfire for several hours. They would then sleep, rise early, and fish some more. Part of their plans worked out.

It was almost dark by the time we spread the air mattresses out in the cabin and got the campfire started to cook our evening meal. The boys had a great time alternating between fishing and flipping hamburgers. By the time dinner was ready we set up catfish lines and settled down to eat while watching our poles. The fog was beginning to roll in over the lake as we sat around the fire talking and telling stories. It was rather eerie that we could feel as well as see the cool damp air approach. It did not take to much more fresh air before the boys were ready to call it an evening.

The boys’ air mattress was losing air by the time they got on it. The gasoline lantern ran out of fuel shortly before bedtime. The cabin was beginning to get cool, damp, and dark. I decided to start a fire in the wood stove. The stove is small, but so is the cabin. The stove heats the cabin well during deer season when the temperature is around zero and people are standing around to open the doors and windows when necessary. Turning the stove as low as it would go was not low enough. Around midnight, the temperature was near a hundred degrees on the floor where we slept. When we stood up to open the doors and windows, my wife and I found the temperature to be closer to a hundred and twenty. By four in the morning, the stove apparently ran out of wood as the temperature was closer to forty and the damp fog that had so gracefully rolled over the lake was now causing a cool dampness to permeate everything in the cabin.

When the first rays of sunlight broke over the trees, the boys sprang lightly from their flattened mattress and were ready to go fishing. I covered my head with my pillow hoping to not hear too many details. Unfortunately, they both caught nice bass almost immediately. I then had to hear about cooking fish for breakfast over the campfire.

I decided it was time to buck up, show some enthusiasm, make some coffee and fry the fish. The heavy mist that had looked so neat as it rolled off the lake the night before completely soaked the firewood. Try as I may, I could not get a fire started. With a bit of help from my wife who by this time was beginning to tire of roughing it, we were able to convince the grandsons, going to the local convenience store for breakfast and coffee would be a perfect end to a camping trip.

I must admit, camping can be a lot of fun, but after being hot, cold, wet, and unable to have coffee in the morning, there is no place like home.