Let's just say two minutes into the campsite, the baby was filthy. Emma had streaks of dirt on her face from climbing a tree. Nathan's feet looked like he had actually grown potatoes in his shoes. Yes, we went camping for the first time.
We went to Leo Carrillo beach. I thought, a beach, fresh ocean breezes. I guess I was thinking clean, but we weren't actually camping on sand, which wipes off. We were camping on freeway exhaust dirt, because first there's the campsite, then there's the freeway, then there's the beach. They are all close to each other (you can walk), but unfortunately Neptune God of the Sea doesn't blow hard enough to blow dirt off the neighboring campground. Sticky sea air isn't as fresh so much as sweaty. I guess sweaty doesn't sound as good in the brochure.
But really, the camping apart from the dirt -- amazing. A little scary when you first drive into the campground and see all the RVs, all the people that own RVs apparently instead of getting dental work, the way beer can hollow out an entire family's face, I could go on. I think it made me scared that these people were probably me if you scratched off my fake perky veneer. Me if I hadn't read much, me if I knew how to fix a plumbing leak with some duct tape and some Jack Daniels. Yep.
Camping is like a motel without walls. You see and hear everyone else. I see why they made motels. Great selling point -- you don't have to bring your bed and every utensil in your kitchen just to get through a day. Pioneers must have been filthy. And that wagon trail west - it must've been littered with human crap. A little brown trail they followed, littered with corpses of women who got sick of cooking and voluntarily stayed behind to be eaten by wolves.
The stars are really bright, though. And the beach -- always different. Hermit crabs and Nathan found a starfish. Surfers.
And those crickets! Blasting their gentle tune at night. For eight hours. I heard every one of them, because I was awake. Cringing in pain, every time I tried to move. Sleeping on a skinny cushion with the baby was like balancing both of us on a tube sock while holding a bag of groceries. All night. Except for when Emma joined me on the other side and I had my arms up around my shoulders holding both of them, spread out like my own crucifixion.
Still the beach rejuvenated us. Freezing water, and chocolate chip cookies. Grapes. It was the last day of summer. Emma's wish on the star was "I wish I could be the best gymnastics girl in the world." Nathan's: "I wish school was cancelled forever." Those faces out in pajamas under the stars.
Look at that.
