Camping - Part 1

“Dad! I got a red white and blue!”

“Great! Was it hard?”

“No way. Did you get yours yet?”

“I just got here. You saw me drive up.” I couldn't tell if the grin on his face from from excitement or laughing at teasing me.

I should explain. About six months ago, I made the mistake of taking him to a cub scout pack meeting where they announced the date for the summer camping trip. “Can we go? Can we? Can we?”

Half way home, he wore me down enough for me to answer, “We'll see if your mother can go.”

“I want you to go. We might never be able to go camping again. It would be a travesty and could leave permanent emotional scars if I can't go camping with you this summer.” Maybe he didn't say those exact words, but it had to be something close to that for me finally agree to spend 5 days away from a dry, comfortable bed and go camping with his troop.

This was the last time he'd be able to go camping as a cub scout, and he could stay the entire five days, so I made the parental promise that we would go and got the time off work.

A few days before the camp was to start, we hit a road bump. He had to do a swimming test at the very start of camp. And he was worried. This is the same kid that has done snuba, can dive deeper than the life guards at the pool and has no problem snorkeling for hours. And he was worried about swimming two laps in a pool and floating on his back.

That explained the excitement and pride as he cheered that he'd passed his swimming test for cub scout camp. Since work was an hour and a half away from the camp and check-in was at 5, our friend took him so that he would have a chance to settle in. He and his friends had immediately jumped in and passed their swimming test with flying colors.

“Are you going to do your test now?” There was a snicker.

“It's a little late.”

“Oh, you can take it now. Take your swim suit with you to sign in.” This was our friend that had graciously brought him. (She is no longer a good friend.)

“Yes. Go take it now, Dad. We'll come watch.”

“You guys go up to the campsite and get settled in. I'll come up after I get signed in. You guys need to get the camp fire going for smores.”

I swim three-four miles a week, so I was not worried about the test. I was actually looking forward to it, it'd been a long day and a long drive to campsite. The rest of the day was a refreshing swim, then a short hike up to the camp site, a comfortable cot and a peaceful night's sleep out under the stars. Yep, the next five days were going to be relaxing and full of father/son bonding and learning.

As I walked down to the pool, I heard a terrible rumor: The pool was not heated. Still, I wasn't worried... too much. It was out in the sun, surely it wouldn't be too cold.

Over the next few minutes, I learned several things.

• Some boy scouts do not have a sense of humor. I asked if it was ok to scream when I jumped in. The scout “monitoring” my swim looked at me blankly. I was referring to the cold water, he thought I meant in excitement.

• Even if the pool had been in the middle of the desert, it wouldn't have been warm because they obviously filled it every day from glacier water. I figured this out the instant my toes hit the water. I'm pretty sure my entire body was blue before my feet were wet...

• My son HAS a sense of humor. He knows I hate cold water and wanted to hear my scream.

Once in, there was nothing left to do but swim. We had to do at least one length of the pool doing a back stroke. I suffered through three lengths doing the adult version of the crawl. It was adult because every other stroke was followed by a four letter word. (Since my teeth were chattering so much, no one heard the curses. Even if they had, cub scouts is about learning new things...)

Then, it was time for the backstroke. I started and after a few strokes I heard the life guard yelling at me that I was NOT doing the backstroke. Now, I watched the Olympics, and while my form may not be in the same league as Michael Phelps, I'm pretty sure it's still recognizable as the back stroke. It was my turn to look blankly until he demonstrated that the “back stroke” was the breast stroke on your back.

“Did you pass?” My son asked when I got to camp.

“Yep.”

“Was it cold?” He and his friend giggled

“What do you think?”

I couldn't hear his answer because he was laughing so hard.

“Why didn't you warn me?”

That got him and his friend laughing even harder.

It wasn't until the next morning that I realized I'd left my swim suit in the changing room and it had disappeared. (Hypothermia has a marked affect on short term memory) We checked the lost and found and no one had turned it in. Unfortunately, the pool had a rule that you could only swim with a swim suit. Each time I heard the kids scream as they jumped in the cold water, I learned that I did not mind that rule. After all, cub scouts is also about following the rules.