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"This is a beautiful campsite, Betty, the area is perfect, clean, with well equipped bathrooms, easy hiking, only two hours away and has no ants!" Debby, our professional camp leader, bubbling with enthusiasm continued, "Anne is bringing her guitar, Susan is driving us up in her beautiful van and we'll hike, barbecue, sing and sleep in my high tech tent".
My family couldn't believe I was going camping again! I explained that I loved to sing, eat and be with the Angels so I was going. I packed my "under the seat" Tumi, Luggage gathered the wine and muchies that had been my assignment and was ready at 10:30 AM sharp, when my buddies arrived. As I exited the back door, I was met with astonished expressions followed by hysterical laughter and requests for a camera to document my attire. It seems that my usual lipstick and moisturizer was inappropriate as was my colorful scarf and my suitcase. Seeing the others with naked faces, shorts with T-shirts and soft luggage, I got the picture.
Three and a half-hours of winding empty roads later, we arrived at the campground. We drove slowly through the one lane sinuous road noting that all the sites were empty with red reserved tags on each one. It didn't matter because Debby knew that site number 21 was best and we headed there. When we turned the 5th curve, we found our first and only campers enjoying Debby's favorite site.
While eyeballing another site, closer to the bathrooms, Jo and Jerry, the camp managers, walked to our window and asked if we had reservations. Debby assured them we did. Jerry stood, holding his left arm, which made the strange hand that protruded from it more obvious. Debby asked what had happened and Jerry drawled, "Well my bosses here asked me for an arm and a leg so I gave 'em my hand--cut it off choppin' wood". We gave our sympathies and then inquired about the reserved tags. Jo, a rugged outdoor woman, started right in with her story, obviously memorized, having answered that same question a multitude of times.
"Camp goes from Monday to Sunday. All the campers arrive tomorrow. Since you're here only one night, you might as well stay here close to the bathrooms. They're dirty and the garbage cans are full 'cause the cleaner comes on Monday morning. Oh, you're the only ones in the camp and we've been having some trouble with a bear this week. The sheriff measured his footprints and says he's about 500 pounds. Best you take your garbage away from camp and if you see him, run to the bathrooms."
We paid our fee in silence, batted the hordes of flies away while we unpacked and were just finished setting up camp when we noticed the campers leaving from Debby's favorite campsite. It was time for our hike so we never considered moving. Debby said it was 45 minutes to the top where I could paint while they continued on.
I asked, "Are we driving to the top".
Debby politely answered, "No, we are hiking".
Well, it didn't take me long to decide that I'd rather paint in camp by myself than on the top of the mountain by myself. If my ankle gave out and the angels had to carry me down the mountain and there was no one in camp and the bear shows up or the bikers come in and steal my Tumi Luggage…the thoughts raced through my head!
Debby gave me an assignment after I told her that she could count on me to do what I agreed to do. I spent the first hour picking up sticks of different sizes and placing them next to the fire pit. Then I painted, batting the flies with my free hand and talking to them in a very rude tone. Especially after they sat on my eyelashes reminding me of the Masai tribe in Africa. The fly squatters and I were having a serious conversation when a van drove into the campsite next to ours.
Being a good Girl Scout, I was prepared to tell the guys that my very large husband and the other couples were just up the road. When the guys turned out to be a family including grandma, I welcomed them with genuine southern hospitality, answered their questions and encouraged them to find a campsite as close as possible.
The hikers returned as promised at 6 PM. They told of an excellent hike and I related my story while Debby made the fire and put the food on the barbi. We ate like starving hobos, sang like stars and prepared for our tented slumber.
On retiring, Susan announced to Anne and me that she was a very light sleeper. I had placed myself next to the tent zipper escape closest to the bathroom, but, given Susan's announcement, decided not to sneeze, blow my nose or go to the bathroom all night and went into a deep siesta. Then it happened, the evening bathroom door-bang began along with the urgings to join the party. But next came the two gunshots and squealing wheels that cured any urge to leave the safety of my cocoon. Should I note the time of the shots and peeled rubber noises and risk awaking Susan? I decided not to.
About 5 AM the colors of the tent above my head were turning into bright red and white, the bathroom doors began to bang and I started to sneeze. I was so proud when I controlled the urges-both of them. Susan slept on.
My back was killing me. I was wondering why anyone bothered to put such a thin, ineffective "mat" under their sleeping bag when it serves no useful purpose other than keeping the sleeping bag clean. At that moment I heard the gorgeous sound of Susan's tent zipper, I hastily put on my shoes for the race to the John. Before I had a chance to leave, Anne blurted out, "Oh, I forgot to ask you, Betty, did you blow up your mat?"
Hot oatmeal, juice and tea were served before our departure. I returned home sans lipstick and with a body ready for a hot shower and shampoo. Will I ever go on a Debby Angel Camp-out again? Of course, I'll be the one in khakis with a duffel bag, without lipstick or accessories but with a whistle, mace, and a gallon of Cutter's Off!
PS When showering I heard on the morning news that two people had been killed in a California campsite. My first thought was, "I knew I should have checked the time those shots fired!" It turned out that the homicides were in another camping area miles away from Debby's Angel Camp. So I still don't know what the two shots in our camp were about--maybe they got that big bear...
*The Angels are a group of one dozen women who meet most every month to offer support, encouragement and love to each other. Support groups of are very important as discussed in the study below.
A landmark UCLA study suggests friendships between women are special. They shape who we are and who we are yet to be. They soothe our tumultuous inner world, fill the emotional gaps in our marriage, and help us remember who we really are. But they may do even more. Scientists now suspect that hanging out with our friends can actually counteract the kind of stomach-quivering stress most of us experience on a daily basis.
Friends are also helping us live better. The famed Nurses' Health Study from Harvard Medical School found that the more friends women had, the less likely they were to develop physical impairments as they aged, and the more likely they were to be leading a joyful life.
Taylor, et al (2000). Female responses to stress. Psychological Review, 107(3), 411-429
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