Wednesday, January 16, 2008 - Snoopy Would Have Been Proud
Have you ever gone camping? Wasn’t it a great time? I haven’t gone camping since I was in my early twenties. I had a lot of camping experiences as a young guy, but as I got older, I just felt like I had bigger fishes to fry, like seeing the rest of the world!
I sure wouldn’t mind going again, though. Time goes by so fast these days, that I miss the slow pace of camping. Remember that? A weekend felt like a week, a week felt like a month, and no matter where you go camping, everyone will greet you! It’s the unspoken camping rule. Wave and say “Hello, thousand trailers!”
My very first camping experience happened in the summer of 1978. I was twelve years old, and had only been in the United States for a year. I didn’t even know the concept of camping, (no one in my family did) but like a normal kid, I tagged along. Being from the Philippines, I honestly don’t think people in tropical places go camping. I would put money on that. Anyway…
So I tagged along. For some crazy reason, my two oldest sisters Debbie and Beth, my older brother Rene and I, took our family’s brand new Chevy Caprice Classic station wagon from Los Angeles to Lake Tahoe. For some odd reason, my parents didn’t go with us. Maybe it was work related, maybe rebellion on my sisters’ part, I don’t know to this day. My oldest sister Debbie is ten years older than I am. So she was only twenty-two years old when she drove and led us north. I’ll never forget the experience. We had no clue what we were doing. We knew where we were going (we had a map), but as far as camping, no clue at all!
So I was twelve, Rene was sixteen, Beth was nineteen, and Debbie was only twenty-two. It was a different time and a different attitude. Like I’ve always said, back then we didn’t think about the worst thing that can happen to us, but the best thing. It was definitely a different era.
We headed North on the 101 Freeway from Los Angeles and our very first stop was Solvang, California. What a town! If I never get to go to Denmark for the rest of my life, at least I can say I’ve been to Solvang. This ultra-beautiful, very authentic Danish town is as authentic as any “copy” towns I’ve ever been to. (If that makes any sense.) The food was great, and the pastries were even better. It’s a place I’ll never forget. We had lunch there and visited all the interesting shops. I still remember all the windmills and the huge tree in the middle of the street. From that very first visit since, I must have been back at least ten times.
That evening, we arrived at a small campground nearby. I forgot the name, but it was one of those smaller, well-organized campsites that looked like a parking lot, with hardly any trees. You get a space for your car and a space for your tent, and in between, a metal barbeque pit. Our space did not have a tree whatsoever, and this was a major problem. Why? Because being ignoramus campers, we brought sleeping bags, but we had no concept of a tent. We thought that these campgrounds would always have two trees about ten feet apart, where we can then use our so-called “tent” that we bought, then tie it in between the two trees, creating a triangle, a la Snoopy. What we thought was our tent, was actually just a tarp! So that very first evening, we put the tarp on the floor, and slept in our sleeping bags. It was pretty nice at first, looking at the stars, but as it got later in the night, we were all soaking wet, and freezing! As most people know, in the mountains, it gets very cold and wet because of the mountain evening dew. Also the sleeping bags we had were all very cheap cotton fabric. Obviously, we all got so cold that we all ended up sleeping in the station wagon. So much for camping!
The next day, we headed to San Luis Obispo. On the way to San Luis Obispo is Morro Bay. Morro Bay is a small beach and fishing community, with a visible harbor on the bay, where a huge, half moon ball of rock comes out of the beach. It’s called Morro Rock. If you google it, you’ll see what I mean. It is like a ball of rock that fell on the beach.
We then headed to San Luis Obispo and visited the Hearst Castle for the first time. William Randolph Hearst’s Castle sits alone on a hill, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. With its history of excess riches and celebrity visitors, Hearst Castle is definitely one of the most interesting places I’ve ever been to. Besides the countless bedrooms and bathrooms, the hotel-sized castle had two magnificent swimming pools, one indoor with a tennis court above it, and numerous gold plated fawcetts. Gold plated fawcetts! Yes, that’s what really stood out to me! If you’ve ever been to Versailles, France, the excess is very comparable. But Hearst didn’t have to steal the country’s riches, he did it the American way: cutthroat business!
After San Luis Obispo, we headed towards another bay, San Francisco. This was also my first time in San Francisco. It was sometime in July, but man was it cold! A quote from Mark Twain: “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco”. Man, I can attest to that! With our experience the night before, we decided to stay in a hotel that evening. So much for camping!
After seeing most of San Francisco, we stopped by Carmel, Monterey, then headed to Lake Tahoe. When we arrived, we were determined to give camping another try. Lake Tahoe had many beautiful, forest-like campgrounds, with plenty of pine trees, and campsites that had plenty of privacy. Trees, trees, and more trees! We found a great spot at a campground called Camp Richardson. (The fact that I remember the name should tell you how much fun we had at this spot.) In our amazement, we found a spot that had two pine trees, about ten feet apart, perfectly located next to the parking space. We quickly set up our “Snoopy” tent, and felt like real campers! Believe it or not, we toughed out the night and woke up the next morning in our sleeping bags, under our tent! We stayed the rest of the week in the same site and enjoyed Lake Tahoe to the fullest!
Yup, Snoopy would have been proud!
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