Camping Trip, Part 1

So Becca and I went camping Tuesday night to Mt. Charleston. It was really fun. I drove and Becca tried to dump water out of the passenger side window and sprayed the window and herself. That made the trip more fun.

Then we set up camp. It looked real official. We took our dumb dog but she was miserably afraid of the fire, so we had to tie her to the grill. I felt a little bad but that wore off after an hour of incessant whining.

We were all kinds of excited to prove that we could build a fire and cook a dinner and survive like real women. It took a little while to recall all that junk they forced us to learn from Church-mandated girls' camp, but we got that fire going. I made Becca call me lord of the flame for the rest of the evening.

She had to use my dad's extraordinarily dull hatchet to chop up some of the firewood we bought and make kindling. Then I made fire like a pro. We were totally awesome.

Then we cooked dinner, which was hot dogs and beans. We even boiled water to make hot chocolate. It was the quaintest campsite ever. I made Becca take a picture of my pie tin and I photographed the hot dogs being turned into dinner.

Then we tried to make s'mores, but our hershey bars had melted during the incredibly hot car ride up the mountain, so we stuck then in the cooler and they froze all funny and by then we were too tired to make them anyway. It was a great night.

Later that night we used Indy as a space heater in our tent while we watched Prince of Persia on my laptop. Aside from a midnight visit to the pitch-black, non-flushing toilets (where Latrine Man lives), it was an uneventful night. Breakfast is always harder to make than dinner, so I won't go into that whole affair, but we got home safe and sound and made ready for our desert camping trip that next night.