The Unhappy Camper.

Or how Mother-F'n Nature kicked my ass and sent me home in defeat.  

I arrived home last night at 9:17 p.m. and was never so happy to see my dirty, messy house that contains all the chores and projects that I don't want to do.  I took my bruised and bloodied self and the weed-infested (hope that's all) doggies into the house and was fast asleep in my favorite plaid PJs in my own bed by 10:15 p.m.  Ahhhh.

The Polyethylene Palace, B.W. D. (Before Wind Damage)

Things started out really well -- I was obnoxiously excited to spend a RELAXING spa-like holiday weekend camping in the polyethylene palace [see photo] in the wilderness (okay, a state park with water and electric at my camp site and clean restrooms and hot showers) with just the doggies, a full-size air mattress, an induction cooktop, organic, sulfite-free red, chilled champagne, and a projector with Rodney Ye, 4 seasons of the Tudors and all 5 Resident Evils.  Sounds good, yes?

And it was good for the first night.  I went a day early, because I didn't have lots of work to do, and why sit around my comfortable, air-conditioned, satellite-equipped home, when I could be out in the dirt, right?  So, off I went.  I arrived late afternoon and had very little trouble setting up the polyethylene palace even in  some wind.  I had a lovely evening and all was good.

Doggies trying to avoid EARLY am heat.

The trouble began the next morning.  Really EARLY the next morning.  Who knew the sun comes up at like 5:30 a.m.?  And the Connor dog's auto bark comes on at 5:29.9 a.m.  I had spent the previous night watching the Tudors until about midnight, thinking I'd lay around all morning.  Not so much.  And if the barking dog and the blinding white light shining through the white walls of the polyethylene palace were not annoying enough, right about the time my nose and toes started to warm up (it was cold enough that I was in fetal position by morning), the tent started to get really warm.  Huh.  How is a girl to crawl back into bed for an extended snooze when it is hitting 90ish about 7 am?  Not good.  I tried opening all the windows in the tent and the screen room, but it was no use -- the palace was a spacious Easy Bake oven.

Not to despair.  I passed a Wal-Mart in Cottonwood, a mere 2.7 miles from my camp site.  So I detached the Element from the Easy-Bake palace and took the doggies to a shady spot in the Wal-Mart parking lot.  I got everything I thought I would need to salvage the trip:  9x9 easy-up gazebo for shading the palace, cheap red box fan from China for tent, new ice chest with two bags of ice, tarp and picnic blankies for the doggies to avoid the burrs and foxtails, more batteries for the bug repeller, etc.

Armed with cheap Chinese-manufactured Box Store paraphernalia, I struggle mightily erecting the gazebo, and I think I have solved my problem -- the temperature in the tent goes down about 20 F right away.  Ah -- at last, I'm ready to relax.  Turns out I got an asymmetrical sunburn for nothing.  Because 1.5 hours into the joys of the gazebo shade, and just as I'm wondering if it will hold in the wind (which apparently kicks up in the afternoon -- every afternoon), the ENTIRE GAZEBO goes flying overhead, ripping up its cheap Chinese stakes, and lands like an enormous broken dead bug on the other side of the palace.  [Photo here -- I took this in case Wal-Mart gave me any crap about the return.]

The soft silver underbelly of the cheap box store gazebo.

Argh.  All that work and $50 for nothing.  And NOW I have to try to put it back into the little bag and return it to Wal-Mart.  Because it is clearly not fixable -- broken and bent limbs are so numerous there is no point in examining it.  My kindly RV neighbor (who helped me with the  rain fly when it was too windy for me to throw it over the top of the palace) came over and helped me to take apart the ridiculous giant white dead bug and then hauled it to the trash for me.  Argh.

So I'm back to hot, sweaty, and pissed.  And if I'm hot without fur, imagine the collie and the poodle.  Not good.  And, now I have to force-brush Connor, who is covered in foxtails and burrs, because he tried to get out of the car when I was setting up the gazebo, fell onto a concrete parking block on his head, and then landed in a pile of chopped weeds.  So after all the sheet with the flying Gazebo, I have to try to get a million stickers out of long, thick, collie fur.  This was NOT a good afternoon, and I was NOT happy.  But I must have reached a breaking point (like the POWs?), because I just gave up and decided to "enjoy" the misery.  So I took Kathy's advice and made Connor a Ziploc ice pillow.  (Look how cute he looks!)

Connor enjoys ice bag pillow.  Lola just happy to be alive.

And since Lola wanted to sit on my lap every time I sat down, I made another ice bag for my lap.  And just started drinking.  There is not much so bad that it can't be made less painful by buckets of champagne.  By the time it was less hot and windy, it was dark and I was shitfaced.  Shitfaced with a wet crotch, because the Ziploc I made for Lola and my lap leaked.  Of course.

The good news (explained later) is that I was so pissed after the gazebo blew over, that I started packing up everything on Friday afternoon, less than 24-hours into my camping gig.  But I was reluctant to just quit, particularly the day before I was supposed to meet friends in Jerome for shopping, dining, and relaxing.  So I stick it out.  And when I arise at 5:30 the next morning, I am prepared for the Easy Bake, and I make adjustments (no point in letting ANY sun into the tent) and take the doggies outside in the shade of the Element, and we have a tolerable morning.  I even start reading a book on my Kindle, which, unfortunately, keeps rebooting about every fifth page.  Why am I not surprised.

So all is good again and I take a nice shower and the doggies and I motor into Jerome, a pleasant 18-minute drive away.  And here is the best part of the trip -- not camping, but shopping and dining and drinking in Jerome.  We had an excellent lunch, shopped, drank at a local winery, and hit a vegan cafe in Sedona, which is only 40 minutes from Jerome.  All good.

But then I go back to my tent in the windiest frickin' Hell-hole of a desert imaginable.  (Did I mention I selected this site for its advertised "shade?"  Yes, it had a pine tree that I couldn't get close to, because they decided to park the one-ton picnic table there.)  My plan: if the tent is still standing, I'll stay another night (oh, I am supposed to stay two more nights).  I have to approach in a large circle to get to the Easy-Bake palace.  And I'm looking at it as I approach, and something is not right.   

The palace walls have been breached.  Destroyed, really, by the insane winds blowing across ONLY my camping site, because all the other tents around are doing just fine.  The screen room is busted up bad and is on the ground.  It is not salvageable -- cannot even be reassembled with the broken pole and connector.  (I'm sorry there's no photo.  It's hard to think about fighting off a crazy poodle to get to the camera phone when you're looking at disassembling and packing up a dirty, destroyed, Easy Bake Palace.)  And here's where it's good that I packed up most of the stuff out there the day before -- fewer things got buried under the screen-room rubble and covered in dirt.  NO problem, I'll just zip off the screen room and I can still use the tent.

But even at 6:00 p.m. the STINKING wind is still blowing, so that my home is more of a leaning tower than a palace, and I have to brace it up with my whole body to keep it from falling over completely.  The palace walls are just too high and were not going to make it.  And neither was I.  I could have stayed home and poked myself in the eye, well both eyes, with a really sharp stick and had more fun and relaxation.  That was it.  I'm not sure when I decided - whether it was when I discovered all the screen room parts were broken, or maybe when I tripped over the doorway in a gust of FRICKIN wind and landed hard on the rocks with both knees and one hand, or maybe it was when I had to put my back into the tent to keep it upright, but my decision to fold my tent and go home was not difficult at that point.

I spent an additional 1.5 expletive-filled hours (sorry family campers) packing up the palace and accessories (VERY tempting to just drive away and leave the wreckage), feeding and walking the Doggies Who Are Not Good at Camping, and then I was GONE.  And there you have it.  Lesson learned.  

What lesson?  Well, I guess (1) bigger is NOT always better (2) Jerome is a pleasant day trip from Phoenix, where my house doesn't usually blow away when I go out, and (3) maybe I'm not a natural born camper.

What was I thinking?

P.S.  At least I got to watch the Top Gear marathon in bed in my PJs when I came home.  And am considering a new teepee-shaped tent to avoid future wind/sun problems.

Tune in next week for teepee adventures.

It must be the gear.  (Hey!  Have just had brilliant idea for an American version of Top Gear, only instead of cars, we test camping gear!  That could be excellent!  Just think of the many possibilities for testing, say, bear repellant!  I'm in.  And, remember, I thought of it first -- I call copyright!)