Born to be Wildish

Photo by Greg McGill

I am not a camper but because I love visiting National Parks with my photographer partner, Greg, I sometimes find myself sleeping in what could only be called a tent. I have no idea how this happens. I honestly must be drunk and drugged when I possibly concede to do this or maybe tied and gagged and thrown into a trunk unconscious. But there I am, in or near a beautiful park with nothing but nylon or canvas to protect me from the wildlife and weather I pretend to love.

The sleeping part is not all that bad. With a queen size air mattress and flannel sheets from home and $5 pillows purchased at any Walmart found in even the most remote locations in the U.S., I must say I have positively delighted in staring up at a zillion stars while lying comfortably on a well-inflated bed. The difficulty comes when I have to get up to use the bathroom and it happens to be 50 yards away, down a dark circuitous path through other tentsites, which would also not be a problem, if it did not occur so often.

For the past couple decades my bladder has awakened me in the middle of the night announcing loudly and clearly that it needs to be emptied. No matter how little I drink or how early I stop drinking the night before, I have to go at least two or three times a night. I think this started with my first pregnancy 32 years ago and since then I have learned that it is less disruptive to pee in a cup than walk to the not so near facilities. I use the large plastic red ones often designated for beer and I can fill easily two or three a night, thinking all the while, where is this all coming from?

While preparing for a recent trip to Yosemite, I bought a tin bucket from an upscale grocery store in Los Angeles which had the Coca-cola logo on it as well as a polar bear splashing joyfully in a fountain of coke. It was the only bucket in the store and I thought it would give me a larger target to aim at along with saving me some beer cups and the confusion that comes from the cups serving two purposes. Which yellow liquid was in this one?   I had not counted on the loudness of the stream hitting the sides of the tin in the middle of the night or the proximity of the other tent cabins in Curry Village where for a mere $88 per day,we made our home for three nights in late May when temperatures were still dipping into the low 40’s. This was astoundingly cheap compared to say, The Awahee Hotel, also located in the park, for a measly $500 per night.

Aside from the issue of there being no toilet, the only electricity came from one light bulb that hung eerily from the ceiling. Did I mention that Greg is a photographer? He takes hundreds if not thousands of pictures everyday then downloads them from cameras onto his laptop, which all have batteries that need to be recharged. That meant we got to fight with other humans (the most unpleasant of species) in the Curry Lodge; the only space nearby-ish that had both heat and electrical outlets. With limited seating and outlets and tons of digitally dependent outdoorsmen, it was not a pretty sight.  

The other thing I loved were the bear lockers. Though we didn’t see any bears, Yosemite is apparently full of them and the bear lockers are meant to keep bears away from your food. They’re not scary bears like we have in the Northeast, but they do like to eat, though they are not too discerning about what constitutes a  meal. Shampoo or baby wipes are just as good as say, a steak sandwich, so campers are warned to keep anything that has a scent in a bear locker. As if the result of inviting a bear attack by failing to do so were not enough, the park also threatens a $5,000 fine for keeping anything in your tent that a bear might want to eat.

In all fairness we did do some fabulous things. We wandered in the meadow in front of Half Dome, hiked around Mirror Lake, took pictures at the famous Tunnel View, hugged giant Sequoias in The Mariposa Grove and even watched climbers hang perilously on El Capitan. But I don’t think I’ll be heading back to Yosemite anytime soon. Unless the Awahee Hotel is offering a free weekend, or I start wearing a bladder bag, I think my camping days are pretty much over. That is, of course, until next time.