Camping tips from the Trips of Horrors

Every year I go on a camping trip with some friends from college. And every year, disaster strikes.

Every year I go on a camping trip with some friends from college. And every year, disaster strikes.

If any of you reading this ever worked in college media, then you understand when I say if you come out of working the newsroom with friends, they’re keepers. There are few things that can bond people the way newspapering can, except maybe a combat zone. No disrespect to our soldiers, but that is exactly what I felt like I was in most days. It was a game of intrigue, never knowing who was really telling it true and who was using us to meet an agenda. And it wasn’t that every step was treacherous because I never knew what was going to set off a land mine – I knew every step was a land mine. It was just a matter of managing the explosions. The only people I knew I could count on were my brothers and sisters in arms, but at times even that was a small group.

So when I say that my friends and I have been through a lot together, former college journalists understand. Still, the newsroom did not prepare us for The Annual Camping Trip of Horrors. These camping trips have become the stuff of nightmares, with treacherous raccoons, deadly waterfalls, and hikes of doom.

Through all these shenanigans, we’ve gathered some great stories and learned some hard lessons.

The Glade Creek Grist mill was rebuilt in 1976 in Babcock State Park.

The Glade Creek Grist mill was rebuilt in 1976 in Babcock State Park.

This camping tradition started in 2009, with Lacey, who you’ve met before, and Jesse, a friend beget in the newsroom. He and I used to have all sorts of fun writing news stories that made the administration sweat, and then we’d go tramp through parks and attend concerts in our spare time. I can’t remember which of our trio thought it would be fun to go camping, but we decided to hit up West Virginia for the inaugural trip. Since then, we’ve camped at Red River Gorge, Big South Fork, J. Percy Priest and Cedars of Lebanon State Parks.   Continue reading

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Day of Wyoming storms precludes disaster

This photo is a freeze frame from one of my favorite lightning strikes from the Wyoming lightning storm. We didn't know it at the time, but this storm on our first night was a precursor of things to come on the trip.

This photo is a freeze frame from one of my favorite lightning strikes from the Wyoming lightning storm. We didn’t know it at the time, but this storm on our first night was a precursor of things to come on the trip.

Before there was the blowout, there were the storms, We didn’t know it on day one of the trip, but storms were about to become a major part of our life. After we landed in Denver that first day, we needed to cross about 1,026 miles – about 15 hours of driving – to get from Denver to Glacier National Park. We decided to spend Saturday knocking out about half of that drive time.

Our fist pit stop: Sheridan, Wyoming.

Our fist pit stop: Sheridan, Wyoming.

We covered about 435 miles and landed in Sheridan, Wy. that night to sleep. Along the way we saw some beautiful scenery and watched a storm come from the mountains and blow across the highway in front of us. (You can see more pictures in my flickr account.) But the best part of the day was driving into the lightning storm.

Of course at that time we didn’t know that driving in and around storms was going to be a recurring theme of the trip, but watching the lightning show was truly a beautiful sight. I made a video montage of the best shots I was able to get, complete with commentary from Lacey and I, and a sample of our playlist from the trip.

I just want to note that trying to catch lightning on video is like trying to play Whack-A-Mole.  The lightning strikes felt like they were surrounding us – really they were on three sides. Just when I’d think I’d have a good idea of where the most activity was, it would all switch up. We watched the storms for hours, but I only got about five or six decent shots of actual lightning bolts.

There were white markers around the battlefield to mark where soldiers fell. This group was in a line that ended in the walking path.

There were white markers around the battlefield to mark where soldiers fell. This group was in a line that ended in the walking path.

Day two of the trip dawned bright, clear and full of promise. We left Sheridan early and stopped at the Little Bighorn National Monument, the scene of Custer’s Last Stand. The area, like the rest of the state, is undeveloped and it really isn’t hard to look at the landscape and imagine what happened that day. The trail leading visitors around the battlefield and the markers that show where soldiers and warriors fell also help illustrate the scene. Plus, there is a tour guide who can be heard around the entire battlefield. So even if you aren’t in the tour or don’t want to hear it, too bad. You’re getting the story anyway.

The Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument sports a new memorial to the Plains Indians. Its still under construction and when complete the walls inside the circle will showcase various native symbols and carvings.

The Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument sports a new memorial to the Plains Indians. Its still under construction and when complete the walls inside the circle will showcase various native symbols and carvings.

A new project that I’m excited about is a memorial for the Plains Indians. The metal cutouts of Native Americans on horseback are already there but there are still carvings to be done on the stone walls inside the circular monument.  I’m excited to go back and see it when its complete.

After we got through all the fun times of the day, we were ready to put the hammer down and knock out the remaining seven hours of driving we had left to get to Whitefish. That was about the time I saw the tire going away from the car and, well, you know the rest of that story.