Camping! Two Nights?

Paluxy River in Dinosaur Valley State Park.

(ROCKWALL, TX – June 18, 2016) Last year, my daughter’s inaugural camping trip had been cut short by storms and a tent that functioned like a sieve. She’s hoped all year for another shot, so to hear of two nights at Dinosaur Valley State Park elicited cheers.

We planned to leave after school on Wednesday, camp that night, adventure all Thursday, and return on Friday. Yet, the closer the date approached, the more little cloud icons with lightning bolts showed up on my phone. Then, a reminder of a Wednesday afternoon training popped on the screen. The camping trip stumbled before it started, but after debating back and forth, we rolled the dice. Ireland was all giggles, two nights in the woods was worth the risk; it didn’t matter what the weatherman predicted or how late we’d leave.

We arrived at 10 p.m. While searching for campsites, Ireland spotted her first deer, not 15 yards away.  She lost her breath at the beauty; I hoped it was a good omen. Under headlamp light, I pieced together our new tent, having trashed the sieve. It had served us for years in the Tennessee woods, Colorado valleys, and even in Palo Duro Canyon, but it began to turn water like a sponge. This new one was supposed to withstand storms, and despite the darkness, it was an easy construction.

Dinosaur track in Dinosaur Valley State Park.

Despite morning thunder and looming clouds, we sizzled our bacon and egg tacos and then hit the trails to see the famous dinosaur tracks. Paleontologists say that half of Texas was once covered in ocean, like an extended Gulf of Mexico, and our location was actually a beach. The river we’d trek was a pre-historic scene from Jurassic Park as the plant eaters fled from the meat eaters and their muddy tracks eventually hardened into stone. Many tracks could be viewed from along the cliffs, looking down into the clear river water, but some could be touched, if only you traversed the Paluxy River, which happened to be deep in parts and swift this time of year. Ireland feared wading across the river and backed out on the first run, but she eventually found her grit and by day’s end, we had crossed to multiple sites, hiked high cliffs, and played in cool water where the great reptiles once waded. She never missed the iPad or TV.

That evening, a monsoon hit. Winds howled, lightning flashed, and thunder cracked. We held close and prayed until the sun rose, and our tent was the driest place in the valley; rain soaked us only when we broke camp during another downpour.

The big lesson? Take risks with your kids. It seems these days we want everything sanitized, scripted, Disneyesque. If there is any chance of failure, we reschedule. Life is unpredictable. Rivers are swift, storms gather, and sometimes tents leak, but if we don’t wade in, we’ll miss those opportunities, the great memories; and hearing my little girl shout, “BEST CAMPING EVER,” I knew it was worth it.

By Scott Gill of Rockwall, teacher, coach and author of Goliath Catfish. Follow Scott’s blog at scotttgill.tumblr.com and read his “Front Porch Ramblings” at BlueRibbonNews.com.

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