I Love Camping!

I LOVE CAMPING

As with all my adventures, a comedy element exists that brands them indelibly in the memory bank. This trip was no different. As I fumbled through the two days at Great Sand Dunes National Park near Alamosa, Colorado – by myself – it seemed that these might be moments for Jerry and George.

INT. FAVORITE NEW YORK CITY DINER, MORNING.

Jerry and George sip coffee and converse. Jerry shares exciting news.

Jerry: George, you’re never going to believe it, but last month I entered a contest, and I won! I actually won!

George: What’s the prize?

Jerry: It’s an all-expense-paid trip to Colorado.

George: Oh, somebody is trying to sell you something. There’s always a catch, Jerry. There’s always a catch!

Jerry: No, I don’t think so this time. It seems legit. Three days at nights at the Great Sand Dunes National Park.

George: Great Sand Dunes? You want sand dunes, you can go to the Jersey Shore. Beautiful sand dunes!

Jerry: Oh, not like these. The biggest ones are 700 feet high.

George: That’s impossible! 700 feet is the size of some skyscrapers in New York.

Jerry: Yeah, that’s the size of it. It says so on the internet. And you know, if it’s on the internet, it’s true. Anyway, it’s a camping trip, and they are providing all the camping gear and a rental car to get around.

George: Camping? Oh, I love camping!

Jerry: Really? You don’t impress me as the camping type. You do realize this is outdoors.

George: I know what camping is, Jerry. I was a Webalo.

Jerry: What’s a Webalo?

George: It’s a preliminary step to becoming a Boy Scout. They take kids out into nature and teach them necessary skills for camping and survival. The name stands for wolf, bear, lion and scout.

Jerry: Wouldn’t that make it Weba-lies?

George, (looking stunned, pausing): Don’t mess around with the facts, Jerry. You’re always messing with the facts.

Jerry: Did you continue on to be a Boy Scout?

George: No. My mother made me quit. She said that kids running around with axes and starting fires were an evil element. Do you believe it? An evil element. But I won a Webalo award. I love camping!

Jerry: George, since you love camping, why don’t you come with me? It’s a trip for two. Supposedly, they provide everything.

George: Really? You want me to go on a camping trip with you? I would love that. In Colorado. Under the evergreens like in the Billy Joel song. Yeah, I’ll do it.

CUT TO: Colorado. Jerry and George arrive at the park, driving a rented Toyota Camry. Jerry is dressed in summer clothes, a polo shirt and lightweight pants. George wears a heavy flannel shirt and blue jeans, with a hunter’s cap.

George: Thank God we finally got here. After five cups of coffee, I have to use the restroom.

Jerry: The visitor’s center is just up ahead. The website said one of the most spectacular views is from the back of the visitor’s center. This car is brand new. Nice handling. Too bad you couldn’t drive it.

George: I told you, Jerry. I broke my fingers in the tragic laundry accident last week. The lid to the washer closed on my hand and I think it broke two of my fingers. And I couldn’t grip the steering wheel with my left hand, so I wouldn’t have been able to drink my coffee and drive at the same time. I have to have coffee when I drive.

Jerry: Then you wouldn’t be having these bladder issues, would you? The sponsor said the park campgrounds are closed because of the coronavirus. They gave us a list of nearby campsites.

Jerry pulls into the Visitor Center lot. They get out of the rental car and approach the building. Signs indicate the Visitor’s Center is closed due to the COVID virus. George erupts in rage.

George: Closed?! Is this our taxpayer dollars at work?

Jerry: The entire visitor’s center is closed. It makes sense. You have all these people coming from all over the country and international visitors, bringing their kids. Little super-spreaders running all over the place, touching everything. They probably had to draw the line.

George: I want to speak to the management.

Jerry: Good luck with that. C’mon, let’s go take a look around the rear of the building.

They get to the rear and witness the breathtaking view. A gravel path led downhill and away from the building with information placards every 50 yards or so. It looped back near the parking lot.  

George: I don’t see any trees. I really have to go.

Jerry: I would imagine the fine for relieving yourself in public in a national park would be pretty steep. C’mon, let’s go read some of this information.

George: The only thing I want to read is a sign that says “Employees must wash hands before returning to work.” Let’s go.

Jerry: Look here. It says that in addition to unique vegetation, the area wildlife consists of black bears, elk, mule deer, something called an Abert squirrel and kangaroo rats.

George: Oh, great. We’re going to get eaten by a bear.

Jerry: I’m very curious about these kangaroo rats. I mean, is it a rat? Or is it a kangaroo? And what God-forsaken calamity brought the two together? Is it big like a kangaroo, or is it little like a rat?

A warm gust of wind blows George’s hat into the brush. He departs from the path to retrieve it. Jerry is unaware as he reads from the next display.

Jerry: The vegetation in the San Luis Valley is comprised of a variety of wildflowers, sagebrush, Pinon pines, drought-resistant grasses and prickly pear cacti.

George comes back without his hat.

George: There’s cactus out there!

Jerry: I know. The prickly pear type.

George: They have needles like the ones in my grandmother’s sewing kit. They went right through the bottom of my shoes. Look, I have needles sticking out of my jeans.

Jerry: Where’s your hat?

George: It’s out there. I can’t get it with all the cactus needles.

Jerry: Aren’t there instructions in your Webalo manual?

George: Very funny, Jerry. Very funny. Let’s find a bathroom before I explode.

Jerry: The map says there’s a picnic area a mile down the road that has a restroom.

George: Good it’s lunchtime, too. We can kill two birds with one stone.

CUT TO: Picnic Area.

Jerry: We have some gourmet sandwiches and soft drinks.

George: I’m starving.

Jerry: Apparently, so are the chipmunks and animals here. Look at them all.

George: What’s that bird doing over there? It’s pecking on the car tire! Hey!

George gets up to shoo the magpie away from the tire.

                Get out of there.

The bird flies away, but a chipmunk climbs up on the table and makes off with George’s sandwich.

Jerry: Good Sandwiches.

George: These animals must be working together in collusion.

Jerry: We better go get a space at the campground. There’s one about 10 miles back that is only $11 a night.

CUT TO: Jerry pulls the sedan into the campground driveway. He notices the sign that warns, “Black Bear activity: HIGH.” He fails to notice a sign that reads “4WD Required.” The fastest they can go on the rock-strewn road is 7 mph. About a quarter mile up the road, the car is bouncing on the rocks. Both Jerry and George are grimacing.  Four miles later, at the top, they find an empty campsite and pull in. They are visibly shaken as they get out of the car.

George: I think my hernia just had a hernia.

Jerry: It’s $11. All I have is a $10 bill and a couple of $20s. Have you got a dollar?

George: No, I never carry any cash anymore. All the beggars on the street have gotten so aggressive.

Jerry: Well I’m one of those beggars now. You mean to tell me you don’t have any cash at all?

George: Nada.

Jerry: I guess I’ll have to pay with a $20 bill. The Bureau of Land Management is going to make $9 off me tonight. I’ll go pay and you start putting up the tent.

George: I can’t pitch the tent. (He raises his left hand) Broken fingers.

Jerry: You can’t pitch a tent? What kind of Webalo are you?

George: I’ll have you know, Jerry, that when I was a Webalo, I won an award for pitching a tent.

Jerry:  They have an award for pitching a tent? But now, you’re a grown man and you can’t pitch a tent when we need it the most. You should be ashamed!

George: I won an award! My mother has it. She started a trophy case for me after I won it.

Jerry: It must be very lonely. Here’s $20. You take it up to the drop box, fill out the envelope and drop it in.

George: It’s like going to church.

Jerry: Whatever. I’ll try to set up the tent while you’re gone and we can head back to the dunes.

Jerry figures out how to assemble the tent and stakes it to the ground. George comes back eating a candy bar.

Jerry: Almost set up. What are you eating?

George: A candy bar. They had a candy machine next to the rest room.

Jerry: How much was it?

George: A dollar.

Jerry: You do know what I’m going to ask next. Where did you get the dollar?

George: I had four quarters in my pocket. Why?

Jerry: I asked you if you had any cash and you said no.

George: I had change. Change isn’t cash.

Jerry: Yes, it is! It cost me nine dollars!

George:  Cash implies bills, greenbacks, Jerry. Anyway, the tent looks nice. This… THIS is why I love camping!

Jerry: Yes, it’s amazing what they do with nylon, elastic and a little fiberglass these days. I don’t see where it provides a whole lot of protection from the black bears on the loose. They see one of these and tell themselves, ‘I wonder if this is like the last one we ate, with the people inside the wrapper.’ And the mama bear says, ‘But that was a family of four. Too much, if you ask me. This is a two-man tent. Perfect for a snack.’

George: That’s ridiculous. Bears don’t talk.

LATER: Jerry and George grimace as they drive down the rock-strewn road.

EVEN LATER: They stand at the entrance to the dunes and begin walking across the dry Medano Creek bed. After the flat, compacted creek bed ends, they truge though softer sand toward the dunes.

Jerry: The ranger said it’s a half mile to the dunes. And she said that at night, we will be able to see the entire Milky Way?

George: How can we see the entire Milky Way when we’re in it?

Jerry: I don’t know! We’ll understand it when we see it. And the same goes for the kangaroo rats.

George: Mow many city blocks do you suppose make up a half mile?

Jerry: I don’t know. Why?

George: Because I keep track. This sand is pretty deep.

Jerry: Yes, it is. Look how high those dunes are.

George: It’s very hot here.

Jerry: That’s because you’re dressed like Grizzly Adams and it’s August.

George: I feel like Lawrence of Arabia.

Jerry: You look more like Larry the Cable Guy.

They begin climbing the dunes toward the peak. George Stops to take a rest. He takes a swig from his water bottle and loses his balance, falling off the ridge and tumbling down about thirty feet. He tries to climb back up. It’s like trying to go up a down escalator. For ever foot he gains, inches are lost. Jerry laughs at him.

George: It’s not funny, Jerry! It’s not funny!

He finally gets back up on the ridge, covered in sweat and sand. Twilight gives way to darkness before they reach the peak. They sit and watch as the stars begin to appear in the sky.

Jerry: This is fabulous!

George: This makes it all worth it. At 8,600 feet above sea level, the stars look huge. They’re brighter than any stars I’ve ever seen.

Jerry: They look like shiny quarters.

LATER: They trudge, exhausted, to the parking lot.

George: I have sand in places you don’t want to know about.

Jerry: You’re right. I don’t want to know about it.

Jerry takes off a hiking boot and turn it upside down. An enormous amount of sand pours from the shoe. George follows suit. He pulls the pockets out of his pants. They, too, are filled with sand.

George: If everybody leaves the dunes with this much sand, then how come it doesn’t run out?

Jerry: That must be one of the untold mysteries of nature. Man has been seeking the answer to that question for centuries, ever since open-toed sandals went out of style as climbing equipment.

George: They need to recycle the sand. Here in the parking lot, they should have a place where you can empty the sand from your shoes and from your clothes. It could be like a bottle deposit, where they pay you so much for every pound of sand you return.  Sand Reclamation boxes.

Jerry: I’m sure that great scientific minds are working on that as we speak. I can’t get over the special bear boxes they have to keep the bears out of the trash. They should just put all the trash in one place and let the bears have at it. It would be like one of those all-you-can-eat Chinese food buffets, except for bears. Then they wouldn’t bother people and steal their food. The bear would be saying, “I could expend a lot of energy and break into the coolers these campers left out. But no, I think I’ll go down to the free buffet.”

George: I think you’re onto something, Jerry! Although I’m still not buying that bears can talk.  I bet the next time we come here, they will have sand reclamation boxes in every parking lot, and bear buffets.  

Jerry: Eh, I wouldn’t count on it.  Come on, let’s get back to camp. We can start a nice fire and chat for a while before we sleep on the ground in a flimsy nylon covering that the bears are onto.

George: That’s why I love camping! No, we can’t have a fire. There was a sign at the entrance that said there was a state ban on campfires until further notice. It was right next to the sign that said “4WD Required.” Whatever that means.

CUT TO: Jerry and George grimacing as they drive the Camry up the rock-strewn mountain road.

THE END