Each time I told family, friends or coworkers of my impending camping trip to the Big Horn mountains with Outdoor Guy, they responded the same way.
"You're going camping? Together? For the first time? That'll be interesting," they would snort with a knowing, skeptical smirk on their face. Even my mom had her doubts, saying we'd soon figure out if we could spend that much time together. It's never good when Mom, a.k.a. the Wisest Woman in the World, says something like that.
Apparently outdoor adventures, when tackled as a couple, have ruined more than one previously stalwart relationship. I heard horror story after horror story, enough to fill an hour-long episode for the FOX Network -- "Relationship Roadkill: When Good Camping Goes Bad." As we packed for our end-of-summer getaway, Outdoor Guy joked that we'd either be broken up or married by the time we came off the mountain.
Three days later, we'd seen our share of stunning vistas, moose, elk, deer and little woodland critters. As we traipsed up one side of the range and down the other, I saw some beautiful places and even learned a few lessons about myself, and coed camping along the way.
Lesson Number One - Anything he can pack, I'll probably pack two.
We were "sissy camping" as one friend put it, using a fifth-wheel camper as our home base. Even without the tent and associated accoutrements, we had a lot of stuff. Or more specifically, I had a lot of stuff. As I looked at our mountain of gear to go to the mountain, I noticed that my pile was significantly larger than his. He had one backpack. I had a big duffle and an overnight case. He had the pair of boots on his feet and his wading boots. I had the shoes I was wearing, my hiking boots, my wading boots and a pair of flip-flops. He had a wallet. I had a purse loaded with money, snacks, my I-pod, my cell phone, tissue, lotion, mosquito repellent, sunscreen and a notepad.
As we headed out for our last day of fishing and I handed him an extra sweatshirt, pair of pants and shoes, just in case, he just smiled and shoved it in his pack.
"Women and your wardrobe changes," he sighed. "Remind me to rent a pack mule if we ever go out for longer than two days. Or a U-haul."
Lesson Number Two - Spam is a Manly Meal
Outdoor Guy should open an outfitting business, because this trip was entirely his doing. I basically said, "Let's go camping!" then delegated the rest of the work to him, right up until we started talking food. Then I got interested in a hurry.
"If it were just me, I'd throw in some Spam, Vienna Sausages, a few cans of pork and beans and call it good," he told me.
I know I'm playing the princess card here, but Spam? Honestly? There is just something unnerving about your meal making the sound of a shoe being pulled out of three feet of mud. I had visions of s'mores, pan-fried brookie and good old fashioned elk steak. While we settled on some Hamburger Helper and canned veggies, I told him he could buy me a Dutch oven for Christmas. If this relationship was going to survive, and if I wanted to eat something other than meat by-product, I'd need to take over camp cooking duties.
"No complaints about that from me," he said, smiling slyly. "I'll even buy you a cookbook to help get you started."
Drat. I think that was part of his plan all along.
Lesson Number Three - The phrase "a short walk," has many interpretations.
Our first morning, he told me we were going to his favorite brook trout stream, one he grew up fishing as a kid. "It's a short walk down to the creek, but this place has never let me down. It'll be a fun place to dunk some worms."
He wasn't kidding. It was an awesome little stream to fish, with active, hungry brook trout in every pool and riffle. It took me a while to warm up, but soon we were catching right and left. Most of the fish were on the small side, so we only kept a few. As we moved downstream, Outdoor Guy entertained me with stories of a misspent youth hunting mountain lions and bobcats with his Black and Tan hound. After a couple of hours, we decided to call it a day and head back to camp to eat a late lunch and get ready to go scout elk that evening.
It was a short walk down to the creek. It was the hike back up to the pickup that might have been the death of both me, and the relationship. Nothing will illustrate exactly how far you've let yourself go than a "short walk," straight up a hill at 9,000 feet. I had to wave the fat-kid white flag several times and stop to huff and puff before I blew my lungs out.
He could have made fun of me. He could have told me to lay off the ice cream and pop and I'd be able to keep up. He could have reminded me that it was my brilliant idea to wear new hiking boots that weren't quite broken-in. He could have rolled his eyes each time he had to stop and wait for me to catch up. But he did none of those things, which was good because: A.) he would have been absolutely right; B.) I would have had to tell him he was right; and C.) I had neither the desire, nor breath, to do so.
The next night, when he suggested putting the sneak on a group of bull moose for a better look, I sent him off alone, up the hill and into the timber at an easy trot. Best to not tempt the heart attack gods again. Instead, I busied myself contemplating some sort of outdoor survival school for couples. Forget the therapist's couch, give those couples a tent and a compass and send them to the hills for a weekend. Some couples might even pay big bucks for just such an experience.
I now understood all the dire warnings. I didn't have any horror stories to tell, but we'd definitely seen a different side of one another. I was way out of my comfort zone, and he was right smack in the thick of his element. I had to ask lots of questions, and sometimes even ask for help. He had to slow down and be patient, remembering that I hadn't been doing this my whole life. Putting someone else's need first can be tough when you are used to living on your own and only taking care of yourself.
And without cable, phone or Internet for distraction, the only thing we had to entertain ourselves was the great outdoors and talking to each other. Small talk and superficial attraction can only get you so far, and without substantive things in common, we would have been sick of each other before we even reached the campsite.
The whole experience would definitely test the strength of any relationship, be it between a couple, or among friends, family or coworkers.
But it was a test I must have passed, because when I got bored of planning couples camping counseling, I whiled away the time reading a book and contemplating our future as a couple. Turns out we really would come off the mountain either married or broken-up. A proposal on a ledge overlooking the prettiest spot in all of Wyoming sealed the deal. Relationship rescue camp will have to wait...I have a wedding to plan.
