This weekend we drove to Padre Island National Seashore to go camping. This may not sound stupendous, perhaps like a nice weekend out of the city. You might say, “Oh, camping! I love camping!” You would say this because you are the type of person whose parents probably took them camping every summer at least once. You would say this because you have been hiking and maybe fishing. Maybe you spent a summer at camp and did outdoors things. Or you dated that guy who took you to the cool parties in the woods where all the kids went “camping” aka drinking beer and getting high.
For me, however, the concept of camping is entirely foreign. I never spent more than a week at camp and it was gymnastics camp. My parents took us to Civil War and Independence War battlefields, and we stayed all together in one room in a cheap hotel because my mom was not going to trek three kids to the bathroom in the woods in the middle of the night one after the other. As my friend J’s mom so eloquently puts it, “My idea of camping is a Holiday Inn without a bar.” Agreed, fully and completely. This is why I love visiting them in Las Vegas.
At any rate, I have been wanting to go out into the nature for some unknown reason, and the nature is almost always too far away for a single day and too remote for even the lowest Motel 6. Nature seemingly requires camping. I picked the ocean side of nature, rationalizing that soon it will be too crowded with people escaping to the beach for a weekend. I miss the ocean, having now lived out of Los Angeles for three years in places that are tauntingly close to the coast but not quite close enough. The ocean keeps me sane–it is a predictable and soothing force with substantial motion and a distinctive smell that reminds me of being 7, eating toasted marshmallows after a long day splashing, swimming, playing in the tidepools. Do not tell me that Town Lake is a good substitute; it is not and you know it.
It took us a long time to get out of Austin, but the drive there was beautiful farm country. While we knew there would be a lot of cows, we were unaware of the amount of corn growing, though with ethanol prices being what they are, not surprised. We were perplexed by the very declarative “Maintain Your Vehicle” signs and that Lockhart is the “Barbecue Capital of Texas”, when nearly every town seems to claim that title as well. We arrived at the Seashore well after dark, located the Malaquite Beach campground, and parked the car. We set up the tent. Actually, I set up the tent. No, really! I’ve set up the tent before, arugably under better conditions at Burning Man, in full daylight. We blew up the air mattress, got the pillows and the blankets settled, and lay down without really knowing what time it was. (Yes, of course I brought an air mattress and pillows. Did you really think I was going to sleep on the ground?)
We could hear the ocean from the tent area and see it from the nearby picnic table, so we knew it was close. However, nature being that close means… Nature is loud. Incredibly loud. What were we thinking camping next to the giant ocean with its giant waves crashing on the shore? And then, it got windy. Very windy. Soon the tent, which we had decided not to anchor since it hadn’t been windy during setup, was starting to pick up like a kite. After it flapped around for awhile, B anchored the tent and duct taped the jingly zippers. Neither of us got very much sleep. I am apparently not the first person to make this mistake, as I have now read half a dozen accounts of wind-related tent trauma. The next morning someone told us it is windy until nearly July at that beach. Consider yourself forewarned.
When we woke up in the morning, we saw that we were 200 feet from the ocean. And the beach was covered in a foot of seaweed from the water to the dune. Our weekend plan of chairs in the sand with an umbrella and books were entirely dashed at that point.
We decide to take a drive on the beach–I’m glad we bought that truck! We drove out as far as we could, watching the birds pick over the seaweed (Pelican & Breakfast), which covered the 5 miles of the beach we did see and the 58 miles we didn’t. I tried taking photos, but it was too windy to get out and too bumpy on the sand while driving. After a nap back in the tent, we decided to head back to Austin, stopping for shrimp at Snoopy’s Pier along the way, with a plan to go kayaking the next day.
And then I got food poisoning.
Look, I physically got in the car, drove to the nature, stayed in a tent for a night, and survived. Let’s call it a successful camping trip, however it all transpired.