Camping with Kids

Tuesday, August 17-Thursday, August 19, 2004

With school fast approaching, we took advantage of a few quiet days in the middle of the week to go camping. I'd originally hoped to head off to Maine or Vermont, but the weather has been so fickle this summer -- we've had rain almost daily, and it's been cold and humid -- caution urged a closer expedition, in case we got rained out. So we settled on Austin Hawes Campground in the American Legion State Forest, a 40-minute drive from home. We made a reservation for a campsite -- number 9: shades of the Beatles! -- through the great Reserve America website, that allows you to find and make reservations at campground throughout the United States.

Hawes was an early Connecticut forester, a champion of the decision to allow much of the state to revert to woods after the 19th century campaign to convert every square inch of Connecticut to farmland. (There are only a few acres of virgin woods left in the state. In fairness, the decision was abetted by collapsing prices for Connecticut farm products in the face of western competition, which rendered farming much of the stonier acres of the state unprofitable.) The campground, set in a maturing forest of pines, is a fitting tribute to Hawes's principles. Though annoyingly proximate to a road (we could hear cars whizzing by from our camp), the embrace of trees, chirruping of birds, and endless rain of pine needles with their distinctive, turpentine odor, make the world of work and suburban concerns seem far off indeed. Near the camp ground runs the West Branch of the Farmington River, the only Wild and Scenic River in Connecticut, a mix of still pools home to ducks and gentle rapids; you can rent a canoe or (more adventuresomely) tube in an old tire down the river (alas, we could do this because Caroline was too young and we didn't have the right kind of shoes).

After meeting Edie for lunch -- bound to work and without vacation, she couldn't come with us -- we arrived at the camp about 1.30 Tuesday afternoon. The kids were great helpers organizing the site -- they spread the ground cloth, set up chairs and cooking gear, and without them I'd never have gotten the tent erected by myself. Once camp was set up we just hung around, reading, relaxing, and talking. We did a little exploration of the area, discovered that the ranger had two dogs, and bought some wood for fires. Dinner was hamburgers, beans, and corn (this cooked by simply throwing it unshucked into the fire) -- Alison said it was the best food she'd ever had!

Next day dawned cloudy and threatening, but we ventured out anyway to a nearby lake with a rented canoe. We paddled halfway out in the lake under glowering clouds, till it looked too nasty to continue, and we returned to shore. While I wrestled the canoe back onto the car, the kids fed the local ducks. Like a lot of water in Connecticut, the shore of this "pond" (but not the water itself) is private, surrounded by summer cottages and equipped with a dock and small beach. (There's a public access boat ramp from which we launched.) I indulged a brief fantasy by looking at a couple of cottages for sale, and then we went back to the site for lunch.

The afternoon was devoted to a hike on the Henry R. Buck Trail. It runs for just over two miles along the face of the tallest mountain in the forest, 1100 feet. We tramped up the trail through stunningly beautiful and quiet forests whose floors were carpeted with ferns, past great glacial erratics (which demanded to be climbed), under bizarre trees like something out of Hogwarts, and along the rock face with glimpses, through the trees, of the mountains on the other side of the river valley. We spotted a salamander and, with the help of a dog we met, a milk snake.

Dinner that night was in New Hartford at Tonio's Pizza. Back at camp, we sat around the fire in the gathering darkness, talking, laughing, telling stories. Caroline found an inchworm crawling on her chair and took it under her wing and named it "Phoibos!" At last exhaustion overcame us and we crawled into the tent. The next morning, as we broke camp and prepared to return to our normal lives in West Hartford, Caroline remarked that she would miss the "wild sounds." So would we all.

--- August 21, 2004