For those of you old enough to remember Poco and their song, Rocky Mountain Breakdown, know that this song has nothing to do with what happened to my son, his wife, their dog and myself when we went camping last weekend in the mountains. The song, Rocky Mountain Breakdown, is a more positive an up-beat song, praising the mountains and the solace that it brings when one is ‘at one with nature.’
Gearing up for our camping trip a few days prior, I was thinking about how early in the season it was to camp. After all, it was only March and we knew we’d be encountering snow, cold weather, wind and potentially anything could happen this time of year. I recalled how my still-to-day toes burn from being frost-bitten one year that we went camping the day after Christmas. I felt it was almost an unpleasant yet fleeting moment of sadness, knowing that my Tempurpedic would be replaced by a 2 inch piece of foam atop either mud or snow in a tent that might be 10 degrees warmer than the soon to be frigid eve. My fears and reservations were given the acid test question, however; “Have I ever camped, then regretted it?”
The answer resounding and unequivocally ‘NEVER!’ resounded in my mind, so off we went.
This time of the season, few people camp in Rocky Mountain National Park. I phoned my friend at the back-country office to see about camping conditions and was assured that there were few people and plenty of camping spots. So off we sailed into the low-hanging, southwestern and soon-to-be-gone sun toward what we truly hoped and knew would be a fine evening of eating, sitting around the fire and simply enjoying God’s creation.
When we arrived at the camps, we had our pick. Few people were around and many spots were to be found. We cherry picked what we thought was the best, set up camp and began to assemble around the fire-pit. After an hour or so, we settled into our positions around the soon-to-be-lit fire, chatting and discussing how many of the Mickey D hamburgers that we picked up in town would be used versus freeze-dried camping mush. Mickey D won, hands down.
As we were laughing, cajoling and simply having a grand time visiting and telling stories, we noticed a white car (with Alaska plates) slowly drive by our site. The white car stopped and out popped a man. We assumed he was in need of help and planned on helping in any way that we could. After all, he is a visitor to our beautiful state and he may need some help.
Let’s call this man the AlASSkan, with a special emphasis on the ASS part of the name.
Upon his casual walking up to our camp site, he then proceeded to verbally assault each one of us with a lexicon only known to the most vile and wretched carbon-based units. He was human, but only by definition. Otherwise, this dude could have been mistaken for an angry baboon on crack.
Apparently, we had taken HIS camping spot. When I paid for our camp site, I failed to notice a 1inch square piece of paper clipped to a half-buried-in-snow sign-post that showed he paid his $6 camping fee for the spot we now occupied. We had the tent up, chairs were situated around the fire and food was being consumed. There was several other camping sites within the camping area and suggested for him to consider just taking another. "NO! This is MY spot...you (expletives deleted)...you guys are (more expletives) and can (...it keeps going...) and I think you are (like I said, he was nuts...many more bad words)...."
So our simple 'try another spot' suggestion went over like a cement balloon. It should be noted that we then happily agreed to break camp and move on. No worries, Mr. AlASSkan. “We’ll be glad to go. We are truly sorry and apologize for our mistake. Just allow us 15 minutes and we’ll be gone,” were the exact words spoken with tact, diplomacy and still trying to salvage the evening of fun.
Mr. AlASSka may have been high, drunk or perhaps even a bit ‘touched in the head,’ as he continued to verbally attack each of us personally and criticizing Colorado’s people. The AlASSkan continued badgering, belittling my son and his wife, he even criticized Charlie the dog! My son was fuming. My daughter in law was the smart one as she just ignored him. But being smart is harder for us men.
MORE BADGERING! What is going on?
Ok, that was the tipping point for the old Frog. . .
The AlASSkan commenced to redress our characters, yet this time pushing closer physically to my son, who by this time was almost to the point of punching this guy out (although he would never do such). It also should be noted that my son seldom gets angry. He’s a noble man of character, respect and honor. Just the fact that my son really got angry, was interpreted by his dad to 'get more involved!'
Now the ‘mother-bear’ in me instinctively came out as I quickly inserted myself in between my son and this technically ‘bad example’ of a quality human being. I proceeded to dress him down with my own version of sarcasm, insults and personal affronts of his character, his actions and the fact that he was ugly. Now the situation turned from “oh crap,” to “we have a war.” I essentially lowered my character to that of his, reduced my intellect and demonstrated the exact way NOT to behave. I was wrong. But it sure felt good!
We hurriedly threw our stuff in the back of my truck and began to head off. I snapped a picture of the man as his wife was trying to control his insanity. He immediately got out his camera and began snapping pictures of us, my truck my license plate (I got his also). I was now beyond anger, to the point that I started to laugh at him. His night was ruined but he got his way.
We retreated to several other camp sites after that experience wondering, “…did that really just happen?” As the winter sun dipped quickly behind the continental divide, it was too late to camp so we went to Ed’s Cantina and continued our consumption of hamburgers and wonderful food. We had a great visit and now have an amazingly stupid story to tell to others, which was the genesis of this blog. We piled back into the truck and headed down the canyon laughing, joking and having a great time. Things were fine now. We did go camping and we camped. But we only camped for a bit over an hour. So what? We had a grand evening and a funny experience together!
Bottom line is that this camping trip still met the acid. I’m totally glad that we went and I do not regret going. We had time together (which, after all, is what the activity of ‘camping’ is primarily about), we laughed, we talked and now we reflect back and laugh even more.
One last note. . .
If perchance the AlASSkan somehow happens across this blog. I wish you the best of luck, happy trails, enjoy our State, then please leave and never come back.
Rocky Mountain National Park Expert Guide (but not so good diplomat)