Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Blame it on the DeBie family....everyone else is....

Mr. Hive is an avid lover of all things outdoors. He loves to hike, fish, backpack. A natural born tree hugger if ever there was one.

Him and Little Boy, last summer in RMNP.
I don't hate hiking. I don't love it either.

I don't hate camping. I don't love it either.

I'm sure as hell never backpacking because there's just no good reason to carry all your shit that far.

I know, I know, I know....the beauty of nature and stuff. I love nature and I can commune with it just fine from a comfortable place near flushing toilets.

He's passed his love of tents and sleeping bags and campfire smell to his children. I humor them all even if I'd much rather stay home with the beds and the roof and the wifi.

I promise that I try not to complain too much.

This past weekend, we went to the mountains to camp. Being the genius that he is, Mr. Hive invited the inlaws along so that I could sleep in the trailer and have access to a bathroom. He's humoring me only because I am pregnant. Normally he considers a pit toilet a luxury.

It really was beautiful and I really needed the break.
Anyhow, we went. As we were preparing to leave, I checked the weather report and informed him that it looked like it was going to be a very stormy weekend. He waved me off and laughed his maniacal laugh. I'm not a fan of storms when you're stuck out there in the middle of them, especially after the hellish night we endured last year. If you haven't read that post, it's fun. Not really. It totally sucked. How he managed to ever talk me into camping again, I'm not sure.

I'm super glad that the thing the kids remember most about that camping trip wasn't the raging storm that lasted all night. Nope. They remember me peeing in a cup. Which is awesome. Whatever. There's no way in hell I was getting out of the tent and trekking through that storm to pee in a pit toilet on the other side of the campground.

These are some of the things that happened this time, in no particular order.

  • We were in Rocky Mountain National Park, one of the most beautiful places on Earth. It did indeed rain most of the time we were up there and some of the storms were awful. There hadn't been any deaths from lightning strikes in over a decade, but two people died in the time we were up there. Scary stuff. I was happy to get down to this altitude again. I've already had people blame us and our chronic bad luck for the storms.
The sky looked like this almost all the time.

  • We saw a bear. An actual bear. Yes, really. He was chilling in a meadow just outside the park entrance in the middle of the afternoon. They are usually pretty shy. We've never seen one in all the times we've visited the park. Moose, deer, elk? Sure. Bears? No. Until now. I didn't get a picture because my phone was dead. We did become tourists for a hot second though. Hangs head in shame.
  • At dusk one evening, as the light was lessening with every minute, the kids glanced over at the sites next to us and declared that they had found Bigfoot. Sorry to disappoint you, but it was not Bigfoot. Even if it was, my phone was dead so no pictures. What it actually was....a very tall man with a beard wearing a brown coat who apparently looked Bigfootish. And yeah, they yelled their mistaken discovery loud enough that I'm sure he heard. Sigh.
  • Two of the kids acquired new nicknames while we were there. The Oldest = Skippy. Because you should never make the mistake of skipping through a campground when your family is watching. Freckles = Stumpy. Because they've had to cut down a fair amount of trees due to bark beetle infestation, and she became an expert and finding, and tripping over, the stumps very quickly.
  • Once upon a time, we had a cowboy hat. That hat got completely trashed but Little Boy refused to part with it. He insists on wearing it at all possible outdoor events. Logically, this happened. Most of the weekend.
  • Little Boy spent several hours removing the tree stumps. He was bored and asking and asking and asking for something to do. I gave him a hammer and told him to go hit some stumps. He fell deeply in love with the project and will be heavily recruited by the Forest Service as a result. 
  • Mr. Hive, Papa Hive and the kids went on a horse ride. I read a book. My mother in law crocheted a hat. (We got the good end of the deal, I promise). The trail ride lasted for two hours, which I've been told is approximately 110 minutes longer than it really needed to be. Since The Oldest has his horsemanship merit badge, he got the stubborn horse...which was tremendously amusing to watch as they rode past us on the trail. His horse would stop, shake his head, whinny, bite at a few flies, whinny some more, flap his gums for a bit, then take off running. Repeatedly. We weren't laughing at him. We were laughing with him. Scout's honor. I mean, he wasn't laughing because he was trying to get the horse to cooperate but if he had the opportunity, he totally would have been laughing because it was hilarious.

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