Organization, I have been told, is among the keys to a successful camping trip. Take what you need. Leave the other stuff home. And (most important) know where you put the stuff you need, so you can find it when you need it.
I have listened closely to more experienced campers. I have worked hard on my organizational skills. And still, I learn (at the worst possible times) there are holes in my master plan.
Over the weekend, I embarked on a fun-filled camping trip to Lamoine State Park with my girlfriend, Karen, and her three children.
The weather cooperated (except for that monstrous thunderstorm that ripped through on Friday night). The bugs cooperated (except for the bees that kept buzzing around our fruit juice). The tent cooperated (after I realized that I’d forgotten how to set it up and re-read the tattered directions a few times).
The firewood even cooperated, and when a Cub Scout dropout (me) is in charge of fire-building, that’s always a development worth celebrating.
Lamoine State Park, if you haven’t visited, is a real gem. It sits on Frenchman Bay, and the views are breathtaking. (7-year-old Gordon thought the park’s treehouse and playground were more breathtaking; to each his own).
All in all, the trip was a fantastic success. At least it was as far as the kids knew.
They were too busy dodging bees and talking about the tree house to realize that my organizational skills left a bit to be desired.
Let me be perfectly clear here: I tried. I really tried. But somehow, my plan came unfurled at about the time we opened up the tote I call The Everything Box.
While packing for trips, I take special care to put all our necessities in obvious places. We have a dry box that holds everything from paper towels to graham crackers. If it doesn’t need to stay cold, and it’s not a permanent camping supply (such as mantles for the Coleman lantern, let’s say), it goes in the dry box.
I have a cooler for perishables. I have a not-so-cooler, which just doesn’t insulate too well, but will keep things such as chocolate bars and fruit from melting or spoiling if we’re careful not to open it too much.
And then there’s The Everything Box.
That’s the mother lode of boxes. It holds all the stuff that I only need when I’m camping. Such as tongs and a spatula and a frying pan. Such as mantles for the lantern and matches to light the lantern and a funnel to put fuel in the stove.
It has everything. Everything Box. Get it?
Unfortunately, someone has been pirating items from The Everything Box since I last used it two summers ago.
Someone had to find matches to light the grill, and never put them back.
Someone took out the tongs to flip a steak, and never put them back.
Someone used the last mantles … and never bought new ones.
I have a good idea who the culprit is, but in the interest of avoiding self-incrimination, I’ll keep my opinion to myself.
In any case, after two years of picking and pirating, The Everything Box had become The Where’s Everything? Box.
Of course, I didn’t find that out until suppertime on Saturday, when the kids’ foil-packet meals (choose your favorite ingredients, make your own, toss ’em onto the campfire coals) were simmering … and bubbling … and nearly burning.
The tool I’d need to extract those little tinfoil-wrapped delicacies was right where I’d left it: In The Everything Box.
Or maybe it wasn’t.
I needed tongs … but they were gone. I needed a spatula … but it was missing. I needed something, anything, that could rescue those little foil packets before supper was ruined.
And luckily, I had just what I needed.
Karen.
As the tinfoil began to blacken and my rescue maneuvers failed (ever try to pick up a meal with nothing but your fire-poking stick?), Karen stepped into the fray, moved me aside, and got to work.
Two pieces of firewood became oversized chopsticks (she’s good with chopsticks). Karen deftly lifted each meal from the inferno.
I couldn’t have done better with tongs and a spatula … if I’d had them.
Supper was saved. The trip was salvaged. Children ate their foil-wrapped creations, then asked for seconds.
Everything was perfect.
No thanks to me, or my still-developing organizational skills, of course.
But there’s always next time.
Don’t worry … it’s just dye
If you’re heading toward Farmington over the next couple of days and you pause to take a peek at the scenic Sandy River, don’t be alarmed if its color seems a bit off.
It’s just dye.
Federal and state environmental agencies are cooperating on a dye tracing study that began Wednesday and wraps up on Friday.
According to a U.S. Environmental Protection Agency press release, the study will track the flow and dispersion of water from West Farmington to New Sharon.
Dye will be released into the Sandy and the river may turn reddish for a short time. The dye, officials say, is not harmful to people or the ecosystem.
Maine Department of Environmental Protection officials will use that data, along with other water quality data that’s being collected in the Kennebec River basin, to determine the total maximum daily load of the Sandy.
