As you no doubt remember from our last camping trip, just two blog posts ago, that we were woefully underprepared. Adam decided to make up for it. All of a sudden, Thermarests appeared. A new sleeping bag. A camping stove. (Do we need a camping stove? No. The camping stove is going back.) Bungee cords. Fire starter. A fancy lighter.
Labeled in 1982 by my mom
My sleeping bag is old school. I mean the “old” literally (damn! I cannot let go of “literally!). As I’ve mentioned before, my sleeping bag was once the Tweedle Twirp’s. She got it when she went to sleepaway camp in, I think, 1982. My mom labeled it–see there in the picture? Those Sharpies really last! It’s a big bulky sleeping bag, but it’s served me well over the years. I inherited the sleeping bag in 1994 when I spent that three months driving from Miami to Seattle. I took the sleeping bag in anticipation of youth hostels, which never had linens. Â It was fortuitous that I had it, because halfway through the trip, I decided to start camping. I met a guy in Texas who was game to come with me for the rest of the ride, so I bought a tent and we camped our way through the western United States. I spent hours in the REI picking it out, asking the most basic of questions, as I had never camped before (other than the ill-fated seventh grade camp out in junior high). Supposedly it was a four-season tent. As my traveling companion pointed out, it was actually a two-season tent: too-fucking hot and too-fucking cold. That sleeping bag served me well on those “too-fucking cold” nights in the desert.
Mama Bear with the Baby Bears
We bought the kids sleeping bags off of Woot. They are lovely sleeping bags and much sleeker and modern than what I have. I have the Mama Bear to their Baby Bear sleeping bags. Although the original analogy I thought of was that my sleeping bag is like briefs to their thongs. The new bags are mummy types and they fold up small and they’re warm and toasty enough that the kids have yet to sleep in them because they kick them off for being too hot.
So when Adam said he was hitting EMS during his lunch hour to buy his new sleeping bag, I knew that my big honkin’ sleeping bag was going to feel antiquated. Huge. Old. Bulky. But I can handle that because in my newfound desire to be more ecologically aware, I’m excited to have something that has stood the test of time and that will still be with me for at least another decade or two. My sleeping bag is practical and comfy and just fine. Adam is all about the latest, newest. He’s an early adapter to the extreme when I don’t put the kibosh on it.
So he came home with his sleeping bag. And all I could say was, “Wow.” He bought… a sleeping bag. And what a sleeping bag it is. It is a sleeping bag that makes a statement. And what, you might ask, is that statement? The statement is, “I will never go back country camping.” Or perhaps it’s “I will never spend the night in a desert campground.” Or could it be, “I’m just pretending that I like to camp.” The thing is huge. The thing is rated only to 35 degrees (“What? It’s not like we’re going to winter camp!” ). It is the Papa Bear bag, that’s for sure. It makes my “briefs” sleeping bag look like cute boy shorts.
If my sleeping bag are briefs, Adam's is clearly a full-body girdle.
Well, at least we have everything we need to go camping. Even if it means we’ll never leave the car behind. Of course, we’re all done camping for this year. So his high-maintenance sleeping bag (“Don’t store in a stuff sack. Hang flat”) will sit (in its sack) in the attic till next summer. I’m thinking about a camping trip. In Denali National Park.
