Our camp.The Cubs and I hung out at camp, reading, drawing, coloring, writing. Mostly just relaxing. The weather was clear and warm, and we stuck to the shade offered by the pines. When Papa returned, he took the Cubs for a tour around the Park where they gathered some firewood. Then, hiked up to the river for some fishing (taking the dogs along), picking up a dead Copperhead snake and a couple of skinned knees on the way back.
Jenny pooped out after her hike.Our day wrapped up with roasted weenies for dinner.
The kitchen.
Weenie and skinned knees.
Good campin' eats.Just at bedtime, it started raining. A gentle rain on Popper is an incredibly soothing and comforting sound. The rain falling on the pop-out tent parts (the bedrooms) is like rain falling on any tent, a pleasant “plop, plop, plop” sound. But, the rain falling on the metal roof of the living area is a very distinct, and strangely familiar sound, aptly described by Booboo as “checkers”. The sound of checkers being stacked, arranged, restacked, and fussed with. Somehow that sound just sent me right back into childhood, and inspired at least one grin as I lay in my sleeping bag.
Then it started raining harder. And it turned into a long night. Sometime after midnight (I think it was about 2:00 am), a car alarm went off. And, as all car alarms sound EXACTLY ALIKE at 2:00 am, I assumed it was our truck, jumped out of bed, and scrambled for our keys (which were in my pants pocket), so we could turn the alarm off before we pissed off the entire campground. Papa was on his feet and ready to respond, so when I handed him the keys, he took up the challenge of shutting off the alarm from the doorway of the camper so he didn’t have to tromp out into the rain in his undies. Turns out, it wasn’t our truck, but the car in the neighboring site. Crisis averted. Sort of.
It was at that point that Jenny (the spaz dog) decided she needed to pee. Right then. In the camper. On Brother Bear’s sleeping bag. So, Papa dragged her outside in the rain so she could finish peeing. Except she wouldn’t. Because our entire camp site was covered in 3” of water. And, ya know, dogs can’t possibly pee in water. I’m pretty sure it’s a survival thing. Or maybe just something designed to irritate their owners at 2:00 in the morning. Either way, it was quickly brought to our attention that anything left on the ground in our camp was in danger of floating away. Papa Bear rounded stuff up (including the orthopedic dog bed, which was completely soaked), while I trudged through 3” of water all the way to the comfort station so I could pee. Well, not just water, but also huge pinecones and a flotsam of pine pollen. It was kind of gross, actually. Not much sleep the rest of the night.
On to Day Three...
