Famous Last Words

Did I say I would never go camping again? Well, I like to try to be a good sport – so, when some friends of ours, truly lifetime experienced campers, recommended a camping trip to Shad Landing, near Ocean City, Maryland – a park with the smoothest, deepest water for water skiing, trails for riding bikes, hot showers and flush toilets – it just sounded too good to pass up.

My sister and her two children would be visiting from Texas. We would be able to make a short drive to show them the Atlantic Ocean for the first time and the famous ponies of Chincoteague. Of course, my sister despises camping, too, but she could be a good sport for a couple of nights, rather than miss the opportunity for the children.

We had a wonderful time! To be efficient and fair, we broke up into groups. Some would go water skiing or canoeing, some bicycling, fishing or exploring. Then, we would all change activities so everybody had a turn at the different activities.

It seemed like the first group of water skiers were gone for a long time. No, we were just impatient for our turn. They were probably just having so much fun, they could not bear to come back too soon.

The boat finally pulled into the dock. The “second shift” eagerly scrambled onboard, ready to experience their own thrills and adventures. Sadly, my husband informed them that the propeller had hit a submerged log, and they were lucky to get back to the dock, much less do any more water skiing. They accepted the change of plans gracefully. There so many other alternatives, no one could be too disappointed.

Later that evening, we ate dinner, had the traditional campfire, roasted marshmallows and made S’mores. After we turned in for the night it began to rain. Déjà vu! However, it was a gentle, almost comforting sound through the night. Besides, we were with experienced campers, so we certainly would never dream of bailing out in the middle of the night here.

The skies were clear in the morning, so we headed for the beach at Chincoteague. Our Texas relatives were suitably impressed by the ocean, although it was admittedly very rough that day. My sister was coerced into joining the swimmers happily bobbing up and down in the waves. Remember, I said she was a good sport, so she obliged, only to be knocked over by a humongous wave. She struggled to regain her balance, as well as the top of her bathing suit. Our friend, Bill, diplomatically sputtered, “Jane, I think you lost one of your hair combs.” His wife Nancy shrieked, “Jane, your bathing suit!” Their teenage sons were speechless!

The skies were clouding up, and the water was getting even rougher. We decided to call it a day and head back to camp. When we got there, we prepared dinner, even though it was raining steadily by this time. My sister and I exchanged glances, “How far away is that Holiday Inn?” Serious discussions ensued. We were sunburned, tired, wet and our boat had a broken propeller. Why prolong the agony? Let’s go home.

Bill, the official experienced camper, was disappointed we were giving up so easily. We broke camp and headed home, anyway. The next day, everybody agreed we’d had a wonderful time, but there’s truly just no place like home.