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AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)
Indoor Girl Gets an Outdoor Lesson
By J’AMY PACHECO
I’ve never really been what you might call an “outdoor girl.”
When I was young and my family went camping, my siblings and I slept in a big tent. But attached to our station wagon was a tiny Fireball trailer in which my mother cooked our meals, and in which we could be spared the indignity of communing intimately with nature when she called. Even when we visited the splendor of Yosemite, we did so in an enormous, well-equipped Winnebago.
I guess you could say we avoided having to “rough it.”
I was also a Girl Scout. Our troop camped as well, but our campsites were always within a moment’s hike from facilities where we could find running water—usually warm.
Suffice to say, I’ve led a fairly sheltered life.
So it was with some trepidation that I accepted an invitation to accompany my daughter’s Girl Scout leader to a class for leaders wishing to teach their young charges how to make do in the great outdoors.
I’m the leader’s assistant—a position that is ideal for those of us having commitment issues with responsibility.
Our girls are Brownies. They’re still little and cute, and none of us mothers is quite ready to send them off wandering along the mountain paths, backpacks on their backs.
Realizing they might someday want to do that, however, we decided to undergo some training that would allow us to start helping our fledgling scouts develop some outdoor skills.
The first part of the class took place in a classroom housed in a building that contained not only running warm water, but also flushing toilets AND telephones. I took that as a good sign.
In the classroom, we learned some camping basics—how to build a campfire, plan an outdoor menu, locate a campsite, fend off wild animals, plug a sucking chest wound—things one should know before attempting to sleep peacefully under the stars.
The second part took place on a recent Saturday in a public park. There, a group of us skirted joggers, vagrants and the participants in a dog obedience class to erect two tents. Putting them up was easy; figuring out how to get the enormous tents back into their tiny canvas bags was an effort best left to engineering trainees. But somehow, we managed.
In teams called “patrols,” we cooked entire meals over campfires and camp stoves. The most important lesson I learned in that portion of the class is that you can’t camp without chocolate and marshmallows. These are, I discovered, as crucial to campfire success as tinder and dry wood. So in keeping with tradition, my patrol stuffed chocolate chips and marshmallows into bananas, wrapped them in foil and baked them in the coals to offer our colleagues for dessert.
After learning how to wash dishes and hands in the great outdoors, we assembled on the grass to learn how to safely use a pocketknife. Our “knives” were made of card stock and swiveled with a metal brad. We practiced opening, closing and passing them with nary a paper cut.
Next, we learned how to tie different kinds of knots, and how to lash things together. Practicing with pencils, I made a hand-washing station any Barbie doll would be proud to own. I also lashed together a tiny table using Popsicle sticks. It’s nice to know that if I’m ever stranded on a deserted island, I may stand a chance of getting back to civilization. Assuming I have access to string and Popsicle sticks, that is.
Perhaps the day’s biggest challenge came when I discovered the park’s restrooms had no doors, and no seats. It was the closest I’ve ever come to roughing it.
I was particularly proud of the way I adapted to this unexpected hardship—I managed to get through the entire day without ever using the restroom. (I’m not quite sure how to pass that lesson on to the girls.)
Late that afternoon, the wind kicked up and the skies began to pour rain. We gathered under a tin shelter, learned a few campfire songs, then dragged our soggy equipment to our cars and drove away.
Our Brownies seemed impressed that their leaders survived outdoor school. They had a lot of fun making fire rings out of jelly beans, and “campfires” using pretzel sticks, coconut, shoestring potatoes and candy red hots. They tied square knots and clove hitches with shoestring licorice—and nobody got hurt. We never did get around to introducing marshmallows and chocolate, but that was okay.
They’re young. And if you’re going to learn to rough it, it’s best to get an early start.
Copyright 2004, Metropolitan News Company