We have an old tent trailer. It really doesn't have much life left I it. But it's still serviceable Most of the stuff woks. We've gotten quite adept at getting the thing set-up in about 10 minutes.
Our site was a stone's throw from the Puget Sound. Off of an inlet called Hood Canal. My teenage son actually put on his swim suit and frolicked in the 40 degree water. My wife and I walked along the shore, hand in hand. The tide came in slowly, taking nibbles off the shoreline.
Near dusk, my sister in law dropped in for dinner. We made a fire and roasted hot dogs. After that, my daughter got off work and arrived with my nephew Jimmy. The kids are such goofballs. They tried cooking a frozen pizza on the fire. They devoured the goo off the top of the burned crust with abandon.
It was cold that night, but beautiful. We watched the harvest moon rise over the hills, bathing the horizon in an orange glow. My son, the scientist, pointed out every satellite that crossed overhead. In the distance, coyotes howled. The embers glowed orange-red, dancing in the pit at our feet. Wrapped tight in our blankets, we just sat and idly chatted.
The next morning, I awoke to nature's call (no toilets in a tent trailer). In the moist, cool dawn air, I walked past the Behemoths. All of our camping neighbors spent the night in their huge RVs. They eventually emerged, most with little dogs wearing custom fitted sweaters. I saw inside one of the Campground Assault Vehicles, and noted that they were watching "Good Morning America" on their 42" LCD screen. Made me think what they saw last night.
We ate our breakfast of camp coffee and doughnuts (cocoa for the kids). After we cleaned-up, we played some Frizbee, as the sun slowly burned the mist off the canal. The other campers strolled by, quizzically staring at our humble set-up. We all smelled like smoke, and needed a shower. And we were all smiling and laughing.
It's hard to say how many more opportunities well have like this. Gotta take 'em when we can.