Allergic to Camping, Hiking, and Other Natural Disasters

by Lenore Look

  “I’ll see thee hang’d, thou spongy weather-bitten jolthead!” cried my dad. Then he really cried, real tears, upside down.

  Setting traps sure was fun.

  But setting my dad free was not. I really wanted to help him, but I couldn’t. I am acrophobic. So I ran into our tent and I slipped on my Firecracker Man outfit and ran back.

  But Firecracker Man is acrophobic too, I forgot.

  So how he ever got up in the tree, I’ll never know.

  “Go, Alvin!” screamed Anibelly “You can do it!”

  “NOOOOOO!” I wanted to scream back, but I couldn’t scream. I was draped over a branch like a scallion pancake and hanging on for dear life.

  “Just a little farther!” cried Anibelly.

  “C’mon, son,” said my dad. “You’re the Keeper of All of Us now. You can do it.”

  The wind picked up. Birds gossiped. I was completely freaked out.

  “It’s getting dark, son,” said my dad. “It would be better if you moved just a little faster.”

  Dark? No problem! With my night-vision goggles, I’ll never be afraid of the dark again!

  Too bad my night-vision goggles were in the car.

  “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

  I hugged the branch and cried my eyes out. After that, I felt much better. But I still couldn’t move very fast. In fact, I don’t think I moved at all.

  “Whatcha up to?” came Beaufeuillet’s voice. He was breathless and his eyes were bouncing and rolling around like crazy, taking everything in. “I was down at the lake when I heard a loud scream.”

  “It’s our dad!” cried Anibelly “He stepped into one of our traps!”

  “Time for Night Vision Man!” said Beaufeuillet. He lowered his night-vision goggles onto his eyes and thumped himself on the chest.

  “Hooray!” said Anibelly.

  But Night Vision Man did not move.

  “What’s the matter, son?” asked my dad. “Can you go up and give my son a hand?”

  Silence.

  It was not a good sign.

  “No, sir,” Beaufeuillet began, “I’ve never climbed a tree before in my life. I’m … I’m … scared of heights!”

  So how Night Vision Man ever got up in the tree, I’ll never know. But there he was, trembling and wailing and hanging on for dear life right next to me! Then suddenly, he was quiet. He reached out and grabbed my ankle, firmly.

  “Gotcha,” he said. “Night Vision Man … won’t let you fall … no matter what.”

  Slowly I slid out on the branch. A millimeter took a LONG, LONG, LOOOONG time.

  When I finally got to where I needed to be, it got even scarier. First I had to take my dad’s Scout knife out of my pocket.

  Then I had to pry it open.

  Then I had to start sawing away at the rubber cord. I had to cut through it so that my dad could fall to the ground.

  “Don’t drop the knife, Alvin!” cried Anibelly

  “Don’t fall out of the tree, Alvin!

  “Don’t give up, Alvin!”

  Anibelly was trying to be helpful. But she really was not. She was on the ground. And I was up in the tree.

  “But it’s okay to cry, Alvin!” said Anibelly “One wrong move and you’re going to be dead anyway!”

  Gulp.

  I could see the cord ripping now … it was almost there.

  “Don’t look down, Alvin!” Anibelly shrieked.

  “Don’t even think of looking down!”

  My dad was now swinging by a thin rubber thread….

  “But if you do look,” cried Anibelly, “and you fall … Mom always says—”

  Fwap!

  Anibelly stopped. My dad was hurtling headfirst like a torpedo toward Earth. But if anyone can remember advice in a hurry and repeat it, it’s Anibelly.

  “TRY TO LAND ON YOUR BUTT!”

  after my dad fell with a thump to the ground, he rescued Firecracker Man and Night Vision Man from the tree, even before brushing himself off.

  “Your uncle Dennis is SO busted,” my dad mumbled. Then he inspected us for night-vision loss, jelly knee syndrome, permanent bonelessness, missing fingers, missing teeth and general irreversible damage.

  We had a few scrapes, but we were okay.

  “Traps are dangerous,” said my dad. “Promise you won’t build any more.”

  “Promise,” I said.

  “Promise,” said Beaufeuillet.

  “Okay,” said Anibelly

  Then it was time to build a fire. Thanks to our collection of dryer lint, Anibelly and I helped get our campfire started right away. My dad was very impressed. So we didn’t tell him that it was Uncle Dennis’s Secret Trick No. 1.

  After that, Beaufeuillet’s dad returned with the day’s catch and cooked it over our fire and shared it with us. He wasn’t any good at starting a fire, he said, but he was good at fishing and they had more food than they could eat. They also had a can opener, so we had canned beans too. And there was corn on the cob and kettle cake, which you bake in the hot coals. It was a feast!

  We ate and ate. Our dads talked about fishing and camping and hiking. And we talked about our very exciting afternoon with the traps and how Firecracker Man and Night Vision Man had come to the rescue.

  After that, it got really dark.

  I saw faces in the fire.

  And faces in the trees.

  Stars winked through the sky’s dark blanket.

  It got really creepy. Anibelly grabbed her weapon. “It’s time for a ceremony,” said my dad, moving next to the fire.

  My dad put one hand on my shoulder and the other hand on Beaufeuillet’s shoulder. Then he made a speech:

  “I am very proud of my son and his friend,” said my dad. “Today both boys showed valor and uncommon courage.”

  Everyone clapped. I took a bow, and so did Beaufeuillet. Then my dad got down on his knees and looked us smack in our night-vision goggles.

  “You two are the true Keepers of All of Us,” he said. “From your daring performance today, I know that you would never let any harm come to those you love.”

  “But I cried a lot and I was scared to death!” I said.

  “And I almost didn’t make it up the tree,” said Beaufeuillet.

  “A hero is someone who is willing to be scared,” said Beaufeuillet’s dad.

  “ Super-duper scared,” added Anibelly

  “So here, now … in front of a reliable eyewitness, Miss Anibelly, and in the great assembly of trees, we now pronounce each of you to be Keepers of All of Us,” said my dad.

  “Amen!” yelled Anibelly. Then she stepped forward and tapped me, and then Beaufeuillet, on the shoulders with her weapon.

  “How does it feel?” asked Anibelly.

  “Fantastic!” said Beaufeuillet.

  “Great!” I said. “But you deserve to be changed too, Anibelly.”

  “Really?” said Anibelly. “What did I do?”

  “You told me not to quit,” I said.

  So then I took Anibelly’s weapon and tapped her on the shoulders.

  “I hereby pronounce you Most Valuable Player of the Year,” I said. “MVP, make no mistake about it.”

  “Wow,” said Anibelly. “I thought only baseball players got that.”

  “Well, you play baseball, don’t you?”

  “Yup,” said Anibelly. “I play it very well.”

  “Well, then, that settles that,” I said.

  Then Beaufeuillet looked at me. And I looked at him.

  “We’re real superheroes,” he said.

  “Dude,” I said.

  “Dude.”

  After that, we sang some campfire songs, but not the scary ones.

  My dad sang:

  “I waaaaaant—to awaken to sky and fat little birdies singing in the trees!

  I waaaaaaaant—to sit by a blaze and toast my toes and roast some marshmallows while the crickets serenade!

  Oh yeah, baby, I’ll do all this and more— Because I am camping ou
tdoor!”

  My dad sang the loudest and Anibelly sang the second loudest and Beaufeuillet’s dad sang pretty loud too. But Beaufeuillet and I sang barely above a whisper so as not to attract too much attention from whatever was out there watching us.

  Then it was time for bed.

  The Beaufeuillets went home to their tent.

  And we went into ours.

  It was the perfect ending to a scary day.

  Until … we needed to use the toilet.

  My dad and his flashlight started to head downhill toward the pit.

  Anibelly and I and our very dim Monster Eye Narrow Beam flashlight did not. “Aren’t you guys coming?” he asked.

  “No,” said Anibelly.

  “Well, why not?” asked my dad.

  “Because I left my toilet paper in the normal bathroom,” said Anibelly.

  “You don’t need toilet paper,” said my dad.

  “Yes, I do,” said Anibelly. She stuck out her hiking-booted toe.

  “Out here, Nature gives you plenty of toilet paper,” said my dad. “Besides, using leaves is better for the environment.”

  Coals sizzled in the fire.

  “No thanks,” said Anibelly. “Alvin and I are going to the normal bathroom, aren’t we, Alvin?”

  We are? In the dark? By ourselves?

  Fortunately, my dad is tofu jelly when it comes to Anibelly So he walked us over to the building that said “Toilets,” and he walked us back to camp before going down to the pit by himself.

  When my dad got back—surprise, surprise—he was okay!

  “Could we sleep out under the stars tonight?” I asked.

  “You want to sleep out?”

  I nodded.

  “Me too,” said Anibelly.

  “You’re not scared?” asked my dad.

  “I’m so scared I could pee in my pants,” I said. “But I’ve used the bathroom, and now I want to see the stars.”

  So then we bundled into our sleeping bags and slept out. It was cold, but it was okay. And this is what we saw:

  The North Star.

  The Big Dipper. Cassiopeia. Orion’s Belt.

  And the Milky Way, which is not milky at all, but a silver river of a million stars, that looked just like—my mom when she’s dressed up all special!

  It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  “Did you know,” my dad began, “Henry David Thoreau said that one of his first memories was staying awake at night looking through the stars to see if I could see God behind them’?”

  So I did what Henry did. I looked for God. Then I poked Anibelly so that she could look too.

  But Anibelly’s eyes were closed. Her face, lit by the sprinkles falling from a million stars, looked like the top of a birthday cake lit by candles. She was fast asleep.

  “Have you ever seen any UFOs, Dad?” I whispered. I thrust an arm into the cold air and reached to hold my dad’s hand.

  “I don’t think so,” said my dad. “But I remember wishing for a whole fleet of them to fly over my head.”

  “How about aliens?”

  “No,” said my dad. “No luck there either.”

  “Were you always so brave, Dad?”

  “No,” said my dad. “Not always. I used to be afraid of everything.”

  “Like me?”

  “Yes, like you.”

  “Did you always like camping?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said my dad. “Always.”

  “What did you like about it?”

  “Everything,” he said. “But especially this— falling asleep facing the stars.”

  “Me too,” I said. “I’m just like you, Dad.”

  My dad squeezed my hand. And I squeezed him back.

  “I love you, son.”

  “I love you, Dad.”

  Then I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

  the crack of dawn isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.

  I was waiting for the sky to crack open like a big walnut and for the sun to come shining through.

  It didn’t. There wasn’t an explosion, or even a loud crack to announce the new day. I was really disappointed. Instead, this is what happens: The light begins gradually, silently, you don’t even really notice it, until you say hey, it’s not nighttime anymore, and pop out of your sleeping bag!

  After a breakfast of eggs and hash brown potatoes cooked over the fire, Anibelly and I were ready for another day of scary camping.

  “How ’bout a hike?” asked my dad.

  I was ready. I had my hiking stick. I had my trauma kit. I had my water-purification tablets. I had my N95 mask. I had my mirror and GPS. But I was missing something … I couldn’t quite put my finger on it … what was it?

  “We’ll take my little portable stove with us and make hot chocolate at the top of the mountain where there’s a view,” said my dad.

  The top of the mountain?

  “We can make hot chocolate fine right here,” I said.

  “From the top, we’ll see the beautiful New England foliage for miles,” said my dad.

  “I can see it fine from here,” I said. It was true. The beautiful leaves were all around us, even under our feet. Orange-, cinnamon-, butter-, and burnt-toast-colored, the leaves looked like fireworks. There was nothing but beautiful New England foliage between our tent and our car.

  Then my dad moved some rocks into an arrow pointing into the trees.

  “What’s that for?” I asked.

  “It’s a direction marker,” said my dad. “It tells rescuers which way we went.”

  Gulp. “We’ll need rescuing?”

  “I hope not,” said my dad. “But experienced campers and hikers always leave signs, just in case.”

  I froze.

  “C’mon, Alvin,” said Anibelly. I’ve got the toilet paper, so we’ll be okay.”

  What would Henry do? He would hike, I’m sure of it. And before I knew it, we were going through the jungle, where my dad showed us other signs.

  “See the bird circling up there?” he asked. “If it’s a hawk, it means there’s prey below. If it’s a turkey vulture, it means something’s dead on the ground.”

  Crunch, crunch, crunch. Leaves crackled with every step.

  “If you see squirrels hoarding nuts or a lot of rabbits during the day, it means bad weather is on the way. …

  “And you can smell rain coming,” my dad said. “It smells like trees and flowers and grass because everything opens up to receive it.” We sniffed the air.

  “This is hiking, Dad?” asked Anibelly

  “Yup,” said my dad, “this is hiking.”

  “But it’s just walking and talking,” said Anibelly. “I thought hiking was something else.”

  “I thought hiking was where you beat back the bushes with a sword and you get all sweaty and look like you’re about to die,” said Anibelly, who gets very chatty whenever she is happy and talks about anything that comes to mind. “Oh, how I wish I had a guinea pig!”

  “Anibelly,” I hissed, “as the new Keeper of All of Us, it’s my job to inform you that you’re attracting all sorts of attention with your loud talking. You’re supposed to be quiet so you don’t disturb your environment.”

  Anibelly stopped. She looked at me. “Okay,” she whispered. “Oh, how I wish I had a guinea pig.”

  How we ever got to the top of the mountain, I’ll never know. But we did. And it was beautiful, just as my dad had said. And we drank hot chocolate, just as he had promised.

  A lot of other people were there too. Some were picnicking. Others were looking through their binoculars and checking their compasses. Some were even napping on the rocks! Imagine that! Napping on a slippery rock when you should be hanging on for dear life! A hawk circled nearby.

  “Relax, son,” said my dad. He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Try to enjoy the view.”

  So I did. I looked out at the whole world exploding in foliage fireworks, which is the same view I get from the postcards in the candy store t
hat were just as pretty and a lot less dangerous.

  “It’s always so peaceful here,” said my dad. “People come for the peace and quiet.”

  Then my dad stretched out on a rock and closed his eyes.

  It was not a good sign. What would Henry do if his dad fell asleep on him?

  Henry would have his hiking stick. I had mine. I also had my trauma kit. I had my N95 mask. I had my sunscreen. I had my GPS and mirror. I had my Batman ring.

  I stopped.

  I checked my finger.

  I stared at my finger.

  My finger was naked!

  My Batman ring was gone!

  “Where’s my Batman ring????” I could hardly say it.

  My dad rolled over on the rock.

  “I can’t find my Batman ring,” I said, a little louder.

  Silence.

  I checked my pockets.

  “Where’s my BATMAN RING?”

  I checked my backpack.

  “Has anyone seen my BATMAN RING???

  “I CAN’T FIND MY BATMAN RING!!!!”

  My dad sat up with a start.

  “MY BATMAN RING IS GONE!” I hollered.

  “Are you sure you brought it with you?” asked my dad.

  “Yesssssssssssss!”

  “Where did you last see it?”

  “I don’t knoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow!” I howled.

  “MY BATMAN RING!!!!!” I screeched. “WHERE’S MY BATMAN RING???????”

  More hawks circled nearby.

  “Calm down,” said my dad.

  “I’LL DIE WITHOUT MY BATMAAAAAAN RIIIIIIIING!!!!”

  “Get him off the mountain,” said a lady.

  “You’re disturbing the peace!” said a Boy Scout.

  “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

  “Go home!” someone shouted.

  How we ever got down the mountain, I’ll never know.

  All I know is that my dad is very sympathetic. He had planned to take us fishing, but instead, he helped me look for my Batman ring. And when we got back to our campsite, Beaufeuillet and his extra eyes and his dad came over and helped too. We looked all afternoon.