" T H E  R E A L  V O Y A G E
C O N S I S T S  N O T  O F
S E E K I N G  N E W
L A N D S C A P E S
B U T  I N  H A V I N G
N E W  E Y E S ."
Marcel Proust

" N O T H I N G  H A S
C H A N G E D  B U T
M Y  A T T I T U D E.
E V E R Y T H I N G  H A S
C H A N G E D ."
Anthony deMello

" P E O P L E  A R E
D I S T U R B E D  N O T  B Y
T H I N G S,
B U T  B Y  T H E  V I E W S
W H I C H  T H E Y  T A K E
O F  T H E M ."
Epictetus

Our little car was fully packed and we were ready to go. Mary and I and our two small boys were heading out on an adventure. We had been planning this camping trip for some time to a scenic area called the Ozark Mountains. Being inexperienced campers, we carefully considered every detail. Like there were just enough pages left in each boy's colouring book to get us to our destination and back.

We arrived in the middle of a sunny afternoon. We found a lovely quiet spot in an open grassy area wrapped in the shelter of large oak trees. The boys sprang out of the back seat releasing the pent-up energy that comes from being good for too long.

Mary and I watched them from the corner of our eyes as we leisurely unpacked the car and absorbed the warmth of the sun into feelings of being at peace with these surroundings. We could hear the chatter of the boys as they excitedly explored the area. It was all a big beaming smile.

In our highly organized way, we soon had the tent up. We arranged the sleeping bags so that Mary and I book-ended the boys just in case they became frightened during the middle of night. And then we arranged a little kitchen area with stove, cooler, blanket and eating utensils. We were now prepared to start our enjoyment of camping.

And we were ready for the boys when they burst back into our view and shouted, "We're hungry". Plates of hog dogs, potato salad, and baked beans were followed by S'more's, a treat kept secret from the boys, who would never have touched their dinner if they had known. This decadent combination of toasted marshmallows and melted chocolate between two graham crackers was a temptation beyond resistance for them, and we were not far behind. "I want s'more", we all chimed together. We got the moist cloth from the cooler to wipe sticky fingers.

Small heads began to nod as we sat before the hypnotic flicker of our small campfire. A glow remained above the trees as the sun and moon slowly exchanged places and the shadows of the trees lengthened to reach out and gently touch us.

We guided the boys a sufficient distance from the tent to answer their last call of nature before snuggling them into their sleeping bags. We crawled into our bags as well. I zipped the door of the tent shut as the closing ceremony on a wonderful day.

"Hey, in there, wake up". I shot to a sitting position, my heart in my throat. This, after all, was the Ozarks, where there were myths about strange folks who live "in them there hills." A din of younger voices also came into my consciousness, contradicting my imagined nightmare and easing my anxiety enough to zip open the tent door. The voice boomed again from behind a blinding flashlight, "You have to move your campsite, we have this space reserved." My watch said 2:00am.

I struggled out of my bag and looked outside. The first thing I saw, in the dim light of a clouded over moon, was a frenzy of activity in front of me. For a brief moment I had the strange thought that ants had invaded us, until I noticed that all the ants were wearing Cub Scout uniforms.

We moved with evacuation speed. Groggy boys, bags, tents and other gear were shoved unceremoniously and haphazardly into our car. We drove away in a stunned daze until we found ourselves at the bottom of a long hill, well out of sight and sound of the clamour we left behind.

Pulling tent and bags from the car, I hastily put everything together again. Mary stayed with the boys who had gone back to sleep and missed all of the drama. I thought, "Won't they be surprised when they wake up" as we settled in again.

I think I was dreaming that we were all splashing around in a swimming pool. That was when I woke with a jolt for the second time of the night. Those hazy clouds dimming the moon had blackened the night and were drenching us. Rain was dripping through the nylon roof unimpeded by the plastic rain fly that was still the trunk! And water was faithfully following gravity down the hill right into the bottom of our tent.

Once again, we evacuated. The final hours, until the sun finally rescued us, were spent sitting in the car. "Let's go home," we said, almost in unison. I rolled the wet tent and bags up in a big ball and squished them back into the trunk.

We only made it about two meters up that rain slicked and muddy hill in our car. The back wheels started to spin and spit out a stream of wet grass and muddy grime as the engine roared and we stood still.

We sat there, both Mary and I, wondering how two such prepared and competent planners could possibly be sitting in wet clothes at the bottom a greasy hill with no obvious solution for how to get to the top.

Apparently we were not as far away from the Cub Scout encampment as we thought. In our moment of greatest despair, the troop came scurrying over the top of hill to investigate the roaring sound that had reached them. Along with King Ant, whose temperament had improved considerably from a good sleep in a dry tent on high ground, they were clearly on a rescue mission. They pushed our little car and up we went to the top of the hill.

Years later, after I had fully recovered from that experience, I volunteered as a parent to go on camping trips with my son's Cub Scout troop. The leader of the troop, a wise old fellow, and a veteran of many such trips, used to say, "If everything goes well on a camping trip you will have nothing to remember." Yah, well, ok.

My idea of camping these days is a travel club approved, multi-starred accommodation, preferably with underground parking. But, when my best laid plans for any experience go awry, I try to remind myself that I am just creating pleasurable memories and stories to tell.