So I hate camping. Which I explained in an earlier post. But I've only camped twice in my life. The fist story took place during the summer of 1994. This story takes place in the fall of 2014.
I was assigned to take 60 high school juniors to Catalina with a handful of other teachers. I thought we were staying in nice cabins with nice beds. Oh. No.
Instead I was introduced to some backwards Mormon Boy Scout camp from hell.
After being shown my homeless house, we were all gathered to start the swimming around a giant mountain activity. Wait? What?! I can't swim!
They force me into a wet suit. I'm a 5'7" 225 pound dude. They don't make wet suits for people like me. I finally squeezed into the suit. It looked like the birth video in reverse.
I then climb a 2 mile hike around a mountain and am told the only way back is to swim. Wait? What?!
Beta males of the world unite! I have to swim to survive!
The Catalina guide tells the 15 students I'm responsible for on this hike to look to me for guidance. Here is a transcript of that conversation.
Guide: If you have any issues you can ask me or Mr. Moomjean.
Guide: Well...I'm sure Mr. Moomjean can help you if you're struggling with the swimming.
Guide: Well...I'm sure he's just joking. You can swim right?
Guide: Why would they bring you to Catalina if you can't swim?
Me: Good question!
Thank God my students were so supportive. In fact, one student Chris made sure to hold the boogie board I was clinging to the entire time.
We we laughed a lot. We joked about how much we hated this stupid adventure. 2 hours later we were "home." Sunburnt. But home.
I wish I could tell you I slept. I didn't. I couldn't. The sounds of Mother Nature made me wet my little bunk. It was horrible. Foxes. Wolves. Owls. It was a horror film coming to life.
So I'm wet. I'm tired. I'm scared. I'm camping.
Eventually, I got out of other "activities." It's amazing how much people won't let you do things out of fear you migh die.
Oh. The best part. We had to walk 8 miles to the port to get on the boat back to Long Beach, CA. I stubbed my toe repeatedly. And I had to have a truck come find me to get me to the port on time, or no one was going home.
After two and half days of camping I did get home. And while there were many wonderful bonding moments with the students, it is a reminder I wasn't built to do things. And by things. I mean camp.
Paul Douglas Moomjean Blog's About What's on His Mind
Blogging allows for me to rant when there is no stage in the moment to talk about what's important and/or funny to me.