My first camping trip was with my grandparents when I was five years old. They were determined that I should have the “ultimate camping experience.” So, we went swimming in a lake, tried (unsuccessfully) to catch our dinner, and then tried (successfully – unfortunately) to catch a “pet.”
My Poppa propped a box up on a forked twig, tied a string to the twig and stuck a carrot underneath. Then we snuck back into the tent and waited for our rabbit to come. Finally we heard a noise! There was something in our box!
We pulled the string excitedly, proud that our plan had actually worked. And then we crept up on the box, gently raised the lid, and got sprayed by a skunk. After that moment, the only thing I remember is bathing in tomato juice and have my sisters tease me for smelling bad.
My grandparents were shocked that I begged them to go camping again, and even more shocked that my parents agreed after the fiasco on our first trip. But although it had a pretty stinky ending, my trip is definitely memorable.
