It takes a few camping trips for most folks to figure out that nothing is going to bite you. At least nothing that wouldn't get you at home.

I remember a canoe trip I made many years ago. I went with my son's scout troop and we paddled nine canoes 52 miles in a day and a half. There were 14 scouts and four adults. I am sure I have never been that tired before or since. I flopped down on a tarp and slept like a log after the first day. That was about 35 miles, without the aid of any current. The next night, after finishing the last 17 miles, I was in a bed and couldn't sleep a wink. Every muscle I had was sore as a boil.

I'm glad you like my posts, but beware, sometimes I slip in a tall tale just so I can say "gotcha."
Howard

> Maybe everybody was away camping this weekend.
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> We were chaperones on our church's youth group canoe trip (it's usually more than just the youth group--college age, too); imagine, just two years ago, I went as one of the kids--now I'm a chaperone!
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> Anyway, it was lots of fun. My husband now looks like a radish, though--uberwhite in parts, and scarlet in others. Poor guy.
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> We canoed down the Wisconsin River for two days. Multiple stops at sand bars on the way for swimming, playing ultimate frisbee and eating. I seriously regretted getting so into the ultimate frisbee game. I woke up the next morning stuck in the fetal position.
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> On one of our stops we found a giant sand spider. That thing was huge. And he was well-camouflaged. This was bad for me. I kept thinking to myself, "You never know if there's one nearby." I am the arachnophobe of arachnophobes; at night, I'll hallucinate and see spiders on the wall right next to me. I won't realize they're imaginary until I've crawled over my husband, screeched several times and flipped on the light by the door. He doesn't even wake up anymore; he just mumbles, "They're not real, honey," and rolls over. This happens at least twice a week.
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> Anyway, encountering the sand spider was bad because that night I couldn't sleep. I didn't have my flashlight to shine on any suspicious objects, and it was too foggy for the moon to be of any use. Every clump of sand that made its way onto the tarp looked just like a spider. All I could do was back away, gather my sleeping back around me and slowly work up the courage to pounce on the "spider" with a well-wrapped foot. Usually a shoe sole isn't even enough separation between me and a spider. I never step on them. Somehow I did it with just a sleeping bag. Jeremy, on the other hand, slept as soundly as if he were in bed at home.
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> All in all, however, it was a fun trip. Except for the spiders. My husband thinks I need professional help; I agree.
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> I hope my husband and I are still camping on the beach in forty years like you and your Mrs. I always love your posts, Howard; you remind me a bit of my grandpa. He had the best stories--silly, serious, or just plain interesting. You do the same. Thanks:)
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> Vida