Fort De Soto North Beach
Note the queen-size air mattress inside. This was after Friday night. On Saturday night, an even bigger air mattress was squeezed into this tent!
I'll take the credit/blame for the coffee maker.
Maybe I'm getting carried away. After all, I cheated last weekend, too. I'm not much of a hunter, gatherer or fisherman. I'm the only Boy/Girl Scout dropout in my family. But if John the Baptist can subsist on locusts and wild honey, I think we can do a little better.
I'm concerned because many of my fondest memories in life are rooted in camping trips, or some variation of them: Fourth of Julys at Fireside Inn. The August 1998 family voyage to Montana and back in a 15-passenger van, and the countless KOAs where we bickered at night. Quiet bonfires at the cabin in Michigan. My college roommate, Shadow, and I trekking down the Pacific Coast Highway, camping next to a Washington riverbed and Crater Lake in Oregon, beneath California redwoods, and in Death Valley.
Will my kids and grandkids be able to appreciate God's creation in moments like these, or will they be too distracted by their video games, iPods, texting, and whatever else is hip in 2053?
Such advanced culinary skill!
The view of the bayou that our campsite bordered.
**All photos stolen from Heather Bale via Facebook**