Shifting Gears

I am an island girl. In growing up, my family and I spent endless days at the beach—the adults would fish, and the kids would swim. Often, we’d camp several weekends in a row over the summer, and eventually, my parents got together with other families and developed a sort of camping group. Parents would take a week vacation at the same time, and no less than 10 families would gather at Kahe Point Beach Park (aka Electric Beach) on Oahu’s west side and camp for the whole week!

The men would drink and the women would play cribbage all night long. The kids would ride skate boards and roller skates in the evenings—after spending ALL day in the ocean. Bedtime meant crawling in a sleeping bag (tent? What tent?) and waiting for the sun to rise so we could put on our cold and still-wet bathing suits and jump into the ocean and do it all over again.

I’ve seen marine life galore, swum through underwater tunnels, fished for my dinner. From the ocean, I’ve recovered bullets from WWII, a class ring from Farrington High School, and floating $5 bill.

I remember those times amongst the best in my life and consider it a treat when I’m able to return to Hawaii and spend some time camping with my family.

Nowadays, though, camping has taken a twist for me. Living in California, camping mostly means I’m in the mountains—hiking and exploring take up most of my days, and if swimming is somehow involved (I life in SoCal so am surrounded by desert), I’m usually in a freshwater hole.

It’s not the same—the salt water in my veins seems to only weakly respond to freshwater swimming—but it’s better than nothing!

I’ve camped from the Sequoias to the Palomar Mountain and several places between. I’ve not only learned a lot, but had to re-learn a lot. My hope is that writing about camping will open doors to sharing experiences as well as crack open a dusty door to get inside my own head.