Lessons From Camping

I don’t get to hang out with my three boys (7, 5 and 3 years old) nearly as much as I’d like. I have friends who rarely see their kids awake accept on their days off, so I can’t complain too much, but still, I relish times like I had this weekend. At 3:30 Friday afternoon, Conner, Micah and I headed down to Belton for a 2 night camping trip with Conner’s cub scout pack. We’ve done a little camping together (see my previous post for a glimpse into how that’s gone) but this was the first time that the three of us headed out of town for such a trip.

I was a little nervous about how Micah would do. He’s only 5 and tends to have second thoughts on more adventurous activities. But, I am happy to say that not only was he fine, we had a fantastic time.

I’ve been reflecting on a few things that happened this weekend...and surprise, surprise, I thought I’d share them here.

We made a deal on the way to the campsite that the boys would help me set up our tent and other stuff before they started running around playing with the other boys. They aren’t really old enough for me to teach them all the intricate details of choosing the perfect camping spot (like how to find where the shade is going to be during the hot part of the day or which direction the wind will be coming from and set up against or with it depending on the expected weather). BUT, they can put tent poles together, help get the stakes in the ground, decide where they want their sleeping bags, etc. I wanted them to have some ownership in the process; I wanted them to feel a sense of pride in our accomplishment, even if that was just setting up a tent that I could set up in the dark.

They did. And it made me happy.

It also made me tired, because the 15 minute process took nearly an hour and I had to count to ten a few times so I didn’t tie them both to a tree. We got the tent set up to my OCD standards, but I had to sacrifice my competitive desire to have my campsite up faster and more efficiently than anyone in a 500 mile radius...because it wasn’t MY campsite, it was OUR campsite. It isn’t a new revelation to me that I have a tendency to want to just do things myself, but afterward, as Micah sat playing happily in the tent he helped “build,” I was reminded why its worth it to swallow my stupid ego and invite others into the process.

Conner and Micah are so different. Conner wanted nothing more than to run and play and fall and run and play and fall with his friends. He was filthy in about 3 minutes.

I love how, even when bigger kids are around, the group tends to follow Conner’s lead. And I love that (for the most part) it isn’t because he’s being bossy. He’s a good kid, full of joy and confidence. When he isn’t trying to play games on your iPhone, he’s right in the middle of whatever excitement there is to be found.

Micah on the other hand just wanted to play in the tent. He looked out the window with his binoculars, he laid on my air mattress and went through my stuff (yeah, that’s right, I brought an air mattress), he sat at the door and did a “radio show” of the kickball game the bigger kids were playing (which btw, was hilarious). He was the epitome of peaceful contentment. Then, when he was ready, he got out of the tent and played kickball...until he discovered that one of the moms had brought bubbles.

That night as we cooked dinner I knew my boys were in for a treat. I had brought the cast-iron grill for my camp stove and had some fresh asparagus and a couple perfectly marinaded, inch-thick elk steaks (thanks to my father-in-law’s hunting prowess and generous sharing spirit). They’d asked for Ramen soup for dinner, which I was also preparing for them. Suffice it to say, few people at the camp were set up to feast as richly as my boys were. Ramen. Steak. Grilled asparagus. And few dads were as excited as I was to shower their kids with such an extravagant banquet.

But, though they’d acted differently earlier in the day, when everything was ready, they were completely uninterested in my delicious offerings...they just wanted those styrofoam cups full of noodles.

I mean, seriously, who doesn’t want to eat steak?

I tried to reason with them. I thought about making them eat what had been cooked. But then I looked at their utterly content Ramen covered faces...and shirts...and laps. Sometimes we get too excited about giving someone something that WE really want - and then get offended when they aren’t as excited as we are. Its not that they are ungrateful...they just want noodle soup.

In the end, I realized that what was most important was that they were eating supper and enjoying it. Besides, this way, I got two steaks. I ate them both.

The next day, after a relatively uneventful night of sleep (which was never a given and thus was eventful itself) we began a day of hikes, dodgeball, lessons about weather and an unexpected nap. In one of our outings Micah had spotted a drink machine which happened to be about as far from our campsite as possible. I didn’t have any change with me but promised we’d see if there was some in the car later. As it turned out, there was a dollar but Micah was starting to get grumpy so I made a deal with him that if he’d lay down and rest for a while we’d go back after and get a soda (he was quite excited about the promise of a cherry coke).

After waiting patiently (mostly) for a couple hours (with a 45 minute nap in the middle) Micah and I began the trek back to the coke machine...which as it turns out, wasn’t working. To his credit he didn’t throw a fit, but by the look of sadness and disappointment you’d have thought he just found out I was selling him to a band of gypsies...

So, I asked him if he’d like to sneak off and secretly roast a marshmallow - that no one else would be getting. Instant relief from the cherry cokeless depression! You should have seen the look on his face as he hid behind a tarp and ate that slightly charred contraband sugar-puff. I know its a little cliche, but sometimes disappointment opens the door for unexpected blessings...and marshmallows.

That night at the pack campfire, Conner was shocked when he was called up in front of the whole group (about 75 folks) while the pack master told everyone about his fundraiser for Japan (which you can read about here). At first he looked excited, then nervous, then incredibly proud as everybody clapped and cheered for my awesome 7 year old...I may have been just a little proud as well.

Afterward, he was so excited he couldn’t stand still. There is difference between doing things for recognition and being unexpectedly recognized for something you’ve done. I hope and pray that Conner will grow up knowing that distinction; cherishing the joy that comes from helping others and continuing to serve for the purpose of serving because you know that “if God were here he would do it”...and getting that very pleasant surprise when you didn’t see the praise coming.

During that same campfire, the boys sang a camp favorite: “Ghost Chickens In the Sky.” Conner doesn’t remember it this way, but that kinda scared him on our first cub scout camping trip...and it had the same effect on Micah. As we walked back to camp, Micah said, “Dad that song was scary. Are there really ghost chickens?” I promised him there weren’t and the song is meant to be funny, not scary.

He was less than convinced.

As I lit our lantern and started getting more marshmallows ready for roasting (this time they were for everyone), he was still scared. The rest of the boys were playing run-around-in-the-dark-and-try-to-break-your-neck. Micah was not among them. I asked if he’d like to sit in the tent while I got our stuff ready. “No, Dad I just want to be with you. Don’t leave me, okay?”

This wasn’t a new experience. Our kids always want us to be with them when they’re scared, but when he reached up and grabbed my hand, I wasn’t even a little frustrated that I had to work one handed. I couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing it was that this little dude who was terrified of ghost chickens swooping out of the sky, felt safer out in the open next to me than in the comfort of the chicken-proof tent that he helped build.

And rightly so, because I’d sooner let those damn chickens peck out my eye-balls than so much as scratch this precious little boy.

We rolled back up to the house around noon on Sunday. We were all dirty, smelly and tired...as we normally are on Sundays at noon...and Tuesdays at three and Fridays at eight.

Now, its 2 am Monday morning. I’m at work, my wife and boys are at home asleep and I can’t help but think that I may possibly be the luckiest man on the planet.

Camping...Sorta

My boys love the idea of camping. Occasionally we’ll set up the tent behind our house -one of the benefits of living where we do is that the woods and the creek behind our house feel like being in the middle of nowhere to someone under the age of 7. Usually we’ll get a small campfire going with great plans to make smores, roast hotdogs and have untold adventures.

Typically by the time a couple marshmallows are toasted the boys have lost interest in the fire. They are in a rush to get in the tent, where I’ll tell them a couple stories...and then they lose interest in the tent.

Then we end up going back in the house to sleep in our own beds...

I had high hopes of going camping with the boys several times this summer: Conner and I have camped at Dinosaur Valley State Park in Glen Rose before and I thought Micah could join us. I like to hike the trails at Cleburne State Park, that could be another option. My parents live on a large ranch outside of College Station - I’ve camped out there MANY times and thought it was time to take the boys out. Camping in the summer can be miserable if you aren’t geared up for it, but with no school to worry about, we wouldn’t have to cram these trips into our short weekends.

Unfortunately I spent the entire summer in Oklahoma City (kinda like camping, only instead of a tent I was in an apartment...not as nice as my tent, but slightly fewer bugs.)

I am not happy that I missed so much this summer, but it was really hot and chances are good that our trips to the woods would have been cut short by sweaty little boys missing the AC.

Now school has started, the heat is finally dipping below the hundred degree mark (it was 94 today) AND Conner has started Cub Scouts. This has greatly increased Conner and Micah’s love of the idea of camping. So, this weekend was going to be different. We decided to camp out at Rachel’s parents’ house - they live out in the country as well. Tents, smores, hotdogs, headlamps, glowsticks, campfire...and two little boys who quickly decided that the ground wasn’t comfortable and they wanted to sleep inside. In Conner’s words, “Dad, I’m not comfortable, it feels like I’m laying down on grass.”

Yep.

So now its eleven o’clock and I’m in my in-laws’ living room writing a blog post. The tent is still set up outside with no one to keep it company - I like camping and all, but its a back yard...I’m not passing up a bed in this situation - and I can’t help but think about how my boys’ camping experience is similar to many people’s church experience.

I am often reminded of the truth in Bonhoeffer’s statement that most people like the idea of community more than the thing itself. Like Conner’s realization in the tent, it seems cool, and there is an undeniable appeal, but it isn’t always the most comfortable place to lay down.

I could have insisted that Conner and Micah stick it out in the tent (I never even considered that Josiah would make it all night). I could have used this as an opportunity to teach them that we follow through with the things we decide to do...but I had to ask myself, “Do I want them camping or do I want them to love camping with me?”

If the goal is simply for them to spend the night in a tent, then I should go wake them up and take them back out there. But that isn’t really my goal. Certainly I want them to go camping with me, and I often think about the possibilities ahead for the four of us guys. But I want them to love it as I do. I want their memories of times spent outdoors to be good ones so that after hurricane puberty hits maybe they’ll still want to do this stuff with their old man.

I have a couple friends right now who are ministers in established churches and really seem to be frustrated with this type of start and stop commitment to community, shared life and missional engagement in their churches. People say they want to be a part of something meaningful and transformative; they want to join God in the amazing work of transforming lives and all of creation...but it isn’t comfortable so they start asking to go back inside.

To those friends - and to anyone else who finds themselves in such a place - I urge you to remember that our goal is not just to get people to participate in a certain way. The goal is for our friends and fellow disciples to get a taste of the amazing life that God has prepared for those who will join in the journey of reconciling all things. Our goal is not just to reach out to our community, but to realize that joining God in this ministry helps us to tap into the essence of what it means to be truly human.

To help people on this path, sometimes we may have to be willing to let them go back inside for a while, knowing that we’ll try it again soon. Allow the memories of the campfire, the marshmallows and the stories told to sink in and call them back. Trust that this experience is captivating and doesn’t need coercion in order to take root.

I know that this is true when it comes to walking with our non-Christian friends and I suspect that it is equally true for our overly-churched friends as well.

Perhaps there comes a time when a stronger approach is needed. If the boys and I end up camping on the side of Mt. Elbert and one of them decides they’d rather be back home, packing up and leaving wouldn’t seem like a profitable decision...of course I don’t plan to be on a mountain in Colorado with a 1st grader and two preschoolers. So maybe the question regarding your church is, “Are we dealing with preschoolers, teenagers or adults?” This question runs the risk of condescension and arrogance, so beware, but it can also shed some light on how to proceed. Maybe the question becomes not only about how to get your church engaged in God’s mission, but how to help the church move out of a pre-adolescent faith.

To those who have been called to serve within established churches, serve faithfully. The grass isn’t greener on this side of the fence. Well, maybe in some ways it is, but there are snakes in the grass, so its a tradeoff! Remember, if life with God can happen anywhere, it can happen here. Even if “here” is a living room one hundred feet from the empty campsite where everyone was so excited to spend the evening.

Arkansas Day 4

From Big Creek to...Somewhere Else

It has been a while since I last wrote about our trip...sorry. You may want to back up and check out the previous posts:

Day 1- From Here to There

Day 2 - From Buffalo Point to Rush Landing

Day 3 pt 1 - From Rush Landing...

Day 3 pt 2 - From the Rapids to Big Creek

We awoke on Wednesday to fog (and thus the wet laundry on the line). 

(yep, all those clothes...wet.)

We had spent most of Tuesday soaking wet - thanks to rapids and rain storms - and it had been really nice to change into dry clothes (those of us who had dry clothes that is). 

It took a while, but we got a fire going; wet, rotten driftwood can be hard to light... and it is SMOKEY!

If you have ever been on TREK you know that there is something magical that happens after a few days in the wilderness - pan fried spam becomes a delicacy. Any other time I'd save myself the trouble and just chew on the can, but when I started frying that spam...

The day was getting off to a pretty good start. The fog was clearing and the skies were not filled with death storms. After a good breakfast we loaded up and noticed that in fact the river had risen a good bit in the night, but everything was good. 

We even caught a couple fish before getting going. 

Everyone had paid the money to get an Arkansas fishing license for this trip and so far the results were pretty abysmal. We knew that the flow of the river was a bit fast, which had to be the problem. What we didn't realize was just how fast that river was getting.

Before leaving Texas we'd checked and the water was moving at around 300 cfm (cubic feet/minute) - nice leisurely float and slow enough to hopefully coax some fish into a frying pan.

What we didn't know was that by the time we got in the river on Monday afternoon the flow was at nearly 1000 cfm's...and by Wednesday it was at nearly 10,000 cfm!!!!

Somehow, the trip down to Middle Creek didn't take us very long...

The water level rising had transformed the calm river into the mess that had nearly drown us the day before and now its rising had actually made it so that the rapids we encountered were just rushing water through narrow areas - mostly passable and just fun.

We were all getting pretty good at navigating these still dangerous areas and took turns going through first. Though we were getting more comfortable we were still not taking any more chances and so at each one of these white water excursions we beached our kayaks and scouted out what we anticipated would be the safest route to take. After the first person entered the rapids then the rest could get a better idea of where to go and what to expect. 

It was just after one of sections that we found ourselves at Middle Creek - way sooner than we'd originally thought (I guess 10,000 cfm of water helps the paddling process...). 

Chris had gone through the rapids first and I could see that he was scouting out a cut back in the river. I followed him in and then I heard a sound that was almost as unwelcome as banjo's...

The unmistakable Arkansas accent calling out, "Oooohh, look! Kayakers! Woooooooo!!!!!"

"This is it," I thought, "I am NOT going out like this..."

I looked up on the hillside and there was a line of folks on horseback. 

Well, we may have to sacrifice Robey...I'm sure he'd want us all to continue on with happy lives. We'll tell your story friend...

After a couple minutes we decided that the hillbillies were mostly harmless, though I still wonder the 12 year-old was their spokesperson. We asked them if this was Middle Creek - they didn't know - and we asked them if they'd heard a weather report for the next couple days - nope, but they were quick to give us some guesses. Big help. Thanks.

We decided this was Middle Creek. We were lucky because where the creek entered the river there was a nice calm pool which was out of the flow of the river. We were unlucky because this bank of the river was incredibly steep. 

That meant were going to have to make camp on the other side of the river and hope we could make it across the current before being carried too far downstream - there was no coming back up stream in that stuff!

Middle Creek was the destination that most of were looking forward to most because it was where we'd found (via maps) several 80 foot tall waterfalls. The plan was to spend a whole day scouting out these falls. I was really excited. 

We made it across the river with no real problems and actually found a great campsite up on a ledge. Obviously this place had been used by folks on several occasions - there was even a homemade table! 

While we were getting water (which was an exhausting process that we got to repeat when we accidentally dropped the container and got river water in it...), we saw more people. These were other floaters - a guy in a small sit-in kayak and a skinny dude single-handedly navigating a large aluminum canoe like a champ...I was impressed. They were quickly out of sight and we went back to getting water and setting up camp.

For some reason there were bees all over this campsite, but we survived. Everyone's tent got up, a small pile of firewood was already started, clothes were drying on trees down by the river...awesome!

We grabbed some stuff for a quick scouting trip across the river and headed back down the kayaks. We'd only been at this site for about an hour but when we went down to the water we realized that there was about 2 or 3 feet less of beach...

The river was still rising.

Nobody wanted to be the one to say that we should move on, but nobody wanted to get stranded on this stinking river either.

After a while we made the difficult decision to abandon Middle Creek and head for Cow Creek. It would only be a short trip into Buffalo City from there and hopefully we'd be able to get out even if the river continued rising.

So, back up the hill to the campsite, break everything down, a sad farewell to the table we'd barely gotten to know and the campsite at Middle Creek was history...tiring useless history.

It wasn't too long before we came upon the two paddlers we'd seen earlier. Their canoe had apparently been loaded down with the REI base camp starter kit.

These guys had a great big tent, a cooler with who knows what and a bunch of random supplies - our kayaking / canoe trip on the Brazos last week with some guys from Granbury was actually pretty similar.

We stopped and talked to these hardcore guys from Minnesota (of all places) and learned that not only would the rain continue but they were actually predicting snow and possibly blizzard conditions in the next couple days.

Perfect.

I looked at the guys and asked, "so am I the only one who didn't pack for snow?"

I wasn't.

One of the reasons that the decision to leave Middle Creek was difficult was that it was getting close to dark. As much as we didn't want to get stuck in the middle of the wilderness if the river rose too much we also didn't want to get stuck on the water when the sun went down. Around here if you need to get out of the water you just head for the bank and get out. In the Arkansas wilderness the 200 ft cliffs, steep hillsides and thick underbrush make exit points rare.

So we paddled pretty steadily and kept moving toward Cow Creek - which was identifiable by the Elephant Head Rock...which was much more elephanty than the pictures had seemed. Weather permitting the plan had been to spend a day at Cow Creek also - there was a loop hiking trail here with some historic landmarks and interesting scenery. 

There were also people camped there...PEOPLE! We were getting very tired of seeing people on this day when we were in the middle of the wilderness getting away from people. 

We decided to press on and found a great campsite not long before sundown...there was a large stretch of beach and then a steep bank up to a ledge about 20 feet above the water. Surely this would be safe even if the river rose all night!

The rain started about the time we got the tents set up and dinner started. We scrambled to set up the rain fly (a chore we had perfected on Tuesday!) and I finished cooking dinner while the guys secured the kayaks a little higher up the bank, just in case...

All in all the evening turned out pretty good though. The rains stopped after a little while, dinner was good and we felt pretty good that the kayaks would still be there in the morning.

Good night Arkansas.

Arkansas Day 3, part 2

From the Rapids to Big Creek

We got back in the river pretty quickly and knew we had several miles to get to Middle Creek. I wasn't worried about the rain that was coming, but I wasn't excited about it either. In between us and Middle Creek was Big Creek. Initially this had been a stop on our itinerary but we'd decided to leave it off so that we could have an entire day for waterfall hunting.

The rain came before we even got to Big Creek. 

And ahead of the rain was thunder. And with thunder comes lightening.

As the clouds started moving in we started paddling pretty hard trying to make some time. As the thunder started moving in I started looking for a place to beach these kayaks and find shelter. That isn't easy to do on this river. Lots of stretches are impassable - 100 foot tall cliffs rising out of the water or steep hillside with thick brush.

Not everyone was real keen on stopping when we did - I was already starting to feel like an overprotecting parent, but I also wasn't interested in taking chances. 

We got out of the river, grabbed a few things and moved up the hillside to find a place to put up our rain fly. As we were doing so the rain started. And then the lightening strikes began.

Our first shelter was not put up very well, but it kept us mostly dry. We sat under that tarp until the storm passed and we hadn't heard any thunder for half an hour. 

Then it was back in the river for about 100 yards before navigating more rapids. I think we were a little more cautious this time - I was definitely more nervous. But these ended up just being pretty fast, no real craziness.

(Ira was taking these pictures...that's why there isn't one of him)

After maybe a quarter of a mile we heard more thunder. awesome.

So...back to the beach...gather some gear...head up the hill...set up the tarp a little more carefully this time...and sit.

The rain was really coming down and the lightening was striking a lot closer than I would've liked. And we were sitting under a tarp hoping that it didn't start hailing for the second time in an hour. Nobody looked like they were having much fun...

So we broke out something tasty to drink and played poker! After all, this was our vacation!

Eventually the rain stopped and we were able to get going for real. After all these setbacks we decided to go ahead and make camp at Big Creek. And rarely have I been more happy to see a creek!

This place was awesome. You can sorta tell in this picture, but there were several terraces here. Each level was covered with mud and decaying driftwood from previous floods, but also a bright green carpet grass. We had to climb up to the level we where we camped and then there was another level about 10 feet above us. It was a pretty awesome campsite.

Once the fire was going we began drying our backpacks...

And Chris started trying to dry all of his clothes! 

We learned a few things while camped here. 

After a rain in the Ozark Mountains, the stars are about 10 times brighter than any you've ever seen.

Small backpacking stools that you are trying to dry by a fire will begin to melt if you aren't careful.

So will the new pants that Chris had bought specifically for this trip.

Zatarains Red Beans and Rice and instant mashed potatoes are among the most delicious foods in the world when prepared at a campsite after a day like we had.

Clothes hung out to dry actually end up wetter if you leave them over night and a heavy fog sets in just before dawn.

Wet clothes are heavy.

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Day 3 was a long day, but Ira was right, its already been filed away as a good memory. There were lots of other things that happened on this day, but its the nearly drowning and getting electrocuted parts that I remember most clearly.

The last thing I thought before drifting off to sleep was, "I wonder how much the river is going to rise tonight?"

Arkansas Day 2

From Buffalo Point to Rush Landing

So, luckily the Monday morning rain was really just a few sprinkles which passed pretty quickly. My new sleeping bag was warm in my new tent...both of which had so far served more as a staging ground for my global war on terrorist raccoons than a humble home away from home.

Eventually I decided to begin the process of waking up and rearranging my gear so that it would fit on my kayak without sinking me in the river (I was a little concerned about that...).

The water from the pump looked even worse this morning than it had the night before. We boiled some more and had our first (of many) breakfast of instant oatmeal with powdered milk...actually pretty tasty.

When the park ranger drove up a few minutes later we asked him about the water - assuming he’d say, “Yeah, that happens from time to time...just let it run for a minute.” Instead he said, “Uh...no, its never done that before.”

Of course, special milky poison water for the Texans...
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We finished packing up our gear and loaded stuff in the truck for the short drive down to the river. Poisonous or not, this place was unbelievably beautiful.

So here we were at Buffalo Point, Arkansas preparing for our 30ish mile, 6 day kayak trip down to Buffalo City. Our plan was to paddle to Rush Landing (about 7 miles) and camp for the night. Tuesday morning we would hike the Rush trails which climbed up the side of the mountain, along Clabber Creek and around abandoned mines and a mining ghost town. From there we’d float down to Middle Creek to make camp.

On Wednesday we would spend the entire day waterfall hunting. Robey had found a book which described how to get to several 80 foot waterfalls around the lower Middle Creek.

Thursday we’d paddle a few more miles down to Cow Creek. Friday we would hike the Cow Creek Loop and then probably camp a second night at Cow Creek. Then we’d get up Saturday morning and finish the trip with a short jump to Buffalo City, get the other vehicle and head home. Before we any of this could happen we had to drop off one of the vehicles at Buffalo City.

A 30 mile float. So the drive from Buffalo Point to Buffalo City should take 30 minutes? 45? Yeah, that would work if there were any roads in this place...but there were no roads, only milky poison water.

So the drive was going to take about an hour and a half each way.

We unloaded the kayaks at the river. Got our gear mostly ready to go, snapped a couple pictures... 

Then Ira and Chris headed off with the vehicles while Robert and I stayed with the yaks.

Sounds like fun.

We took the kayaks down to the waters edge...

we filled everyone’s water bottles up...tested out the kayaks...

we tried a little fishing (no luck)...we ate some food...we took pictures with our phones and emailed them...

called our wives (probably our last chance to have contact until we got Buffalo City)...sat on the ground...got sand blasted by the 40 mile/hour winds...and then we waited.

Sometime after lunch Ira and Chris got back and we headed out for Rush Landing. The first leg of the float was filled marked by unbelievable cliff faces butting up to the river and occasional waterfalls coming down the hillside.

It took a little while to find the campsite at Rush Landing which is the entry point to the Lower Buffalo and Leatherwood wilderness areas. But in the end there wasn’t much drama...we secured the kayaks, set up camp, fixed dinner and went to bed.

Pretty boring...surely the raccoons would show up and liven things up, eh?

Nope. Sorry. But the wind was crazy. That’s exciting right??

Well, maybe the excitement was over and the rest of the week would nice and relaxing...

Arkansas Day 1

From Here to There

Our trip began on Sunday afternoon. Chris couldn’t get out of teaching class so the rest of us decided to attend early worship and class at Granbury CofC and then we could pretty much leave from there.

So...this was my first Sunday in a “real” church building in 6 months. I guess I’ve already forgotten just how different our church life is these days -  just walking in the building was a strange and surreal experience. 

When Christ Journey recently made the move in our Sunday worship gathering from the coffee shop to the slightly larger room at the Nashville, Texas Antique Shop, it felt like we were inhabiting an empty castle...

I grew up in traditional churches, some pretty large, some not much larger than one of Christ Journey’s gatherings. And yet 6 short months have been enough to make me feel a little out of place in a more “settled” church. (And for those that are wondering, the difference in “worship styles” wasn’t really what made it so strange...though it certainly added to it!)

After worship and class we gathered in the parking lot, began consolidating gear and then headed to the Robey’s to get the other kayaks.

There isn’t a whole lot to say about the trip to Arkansas. We drove...there were roads...

However, I would like to point out that this twitter update from 8pm Sunday night said a lot: “So, we're in Pickle Gap, AR...which is fairly close to Toad Suck Park...”

We got to the campground pretty late and saw signs of the already infamous “Ice Storm of 09”. Driving into the park there were lots of limbs and even trees scattered around. Even in the middle of the night we could tell that this must have been an unbelievable storm - apparently the ice was so thick and heavy that trees were practically exploding under the weight. We didn’t realize it, but this storm was going to play a pretty big role in our decision to head home Friday morning...

We made camp there at the park. It was a nice facility but the water looked like milk and tasted like...not milk. We boiled some for breakfast and some tea and went to bed. The skies were clear and there was no call for rain so Robert, Ira and I took advantage of being able to know the weather report and left the rain flies off of our tents. A pleasant evening under the stars...

Ahhh...good night Arkansas, see you in the morning.

...”What was that???”

About an hour after I went to sleep - somewhere around 1:30 am - I woke up to the sound of Satan locked in eternal battle with...another Satan. We had already made too many jokes about Deliverance and what strange threats would emerge from the Arkansas wilderness and here it was actually happening. I couldn’t hear anybody so whatever the beast was, it must have already eaten Ira, Robert and Chris...that was the only possible reason that they wouldn’t be making any noise because surely this thing was loud enough to wake them up.

Well, apparently the bag of food didn’t get put in the truck or hung from a tree and the raccoons were killing each other to get into it. I chased them off with my machete (yes, it was in the tent with me...I was going to be prepared if I heard banjo music...). 

The raccoons had eaten some hot chocolate mix and a package of pita bread...not a huge loss considering what they could’ve gotten. Luckily we were all so vigilant and quickly arose from our slumber...

And by “we” I mean me and that stupid machete. My precious brothers-in-law were peacefully getting their beauty sleep and none of them woke up even once!!!

I put the food in the truck and went back to bed...and then woke up about 45 minutes later when they were back trying to get into our backpacks...

I guess some of the guys had some food in their packs (mine was in my kayak). 

I chased the coons off again...and again 30 minutes later - Still not a one of those guys heard the commotion!!! At this point I knew that surviving a hillbilly attack once we got in the wilderness was not going to be much of a team effort. Yeah, Ira, Robert and Chris, I’m calling you out!

I eventually discovered that I could put a pile of rocks in my tent and just throw one towards the table whenever I heard the raccoons. I got a lot of sleep that night. 

But everything looks better in the light of day, right? 

I think that light of day pretty much got to us before the rain started...apparently weather reports in Arkansas aren’t any more dependable than they are in Texas...

Yeah, we put the rain flies on pretty quickly. 

Awesome. Good morning Arkansas...