May Camp

May Camp

Preparing camp on a rainy night in May

It was raining hard when I pulled into Dolly Copp campground, located just north of the AMC headquarters in Pinkham Notch. It was almost ten o’clock on the Tuesday before the Memorial Day weekend and the storm made the blackness of the May night in the northern forest complete. I drove slowly through the deluge towards the far end of the campground and found a choice site close against the Peabody River where I pulled my truck in front first, headlights shining on the campsite.

I put on my army-style plastic rain poncho, secured a wide-brim gore-tex rain hat down over my head, and pulled the hood of the poncho over the hat. I wore shorts with gaiters on my boots and a mid-weight top. I opened the door and stepped out into the rain with the engine running and the headlights illuminating the rain bouncing on the picnic table.

The rain felt cold against the skin of my legs where it blew in through the open sides of the poncho, but that felt refreshing after a long drive. I walked to the rear of the truck, opened the hatch of my camper-top, and pulled a rolled-up dining-tarp and a bag of stakes out of the back. I closed the camper and walked back to the picnic table where I set the two bundles down in the rain, the headlights throwing a long shadow across the wet grass towards the river.

First, I removed the straps from each end of the tarp and unrolled the long plastic covering until the poles spilled out on to the wet table. I assembled the four corner poles and dropped them out on the ground about where the tarp would end. The tarp had a tall center pole with three sections, but I assembled it using only two, as that pole would stand on the middle of the picnic table. I found the two round rubber seals and put them in my pocket, then took a dozen nylon guy-ropes with slides and distributed them around on the ground, two each to a pole and one in the middle of each side.

I opened the heavy bag of tent stakes, fished out the hammer from within, and laid the tool on the cold wet grill connected to the fire ring. The stakes were steel and each was a foot long with two-sides joined at a 90-degree angle and tapered to a point. I deposited a stake on the ground near each guy-rope, set two stakes on the picnic table, and walked back through the headlights of the truck and placed the bag of remaining stakes inside the camper-shell. From the rainy darkness at the rear of the truck, I looked around the campground; several camps had lights going and I could see people sitting and talking underneath the sheltered luxury of their dining tarps. The rain was coming down hard and the wind was starting to rise. “It’s time to finish erecting mine,” I thought.

I picked up the center pole and slipped a rubber seal over the two-inch prong that extended from the top end. Next, I put the prong through the grommet in the center of the tarp and slid the other seal down over the prong. The seals would serve as gaskets to keep water from leaking down the pole. They also secured the pole to the center of the tarp and kept the pole from falling out in the dark as I struggled alone to erect the windblown cover. I spread out the 14 by 12 foot tarp and laid it over the picnic table with the center stake resting below it on the table and the prong showing through the middle grommet.

Next was the hard work, a tough task for one person. I stood a corner stake up with the prong extended through a corner grommet on the tarp, then placed the end loops of two guy-ropes over the prong. Setting the stakes in the ground, I hammered them down about halfway and hooked the guy-ropes to the stakes so that the pole stood erect. Then I moved on to the next corner. I repeated this over and over, returning often to a corner to fix a pole that collapsed or to replace a stake that had pulled out of the wet ground. After a while, my back was killing me, but eventually I had all four corners standing. I pushed up the center pole so it stood erect on the picnic table and raised the tarp above the table; shelter from the storm! Now I revisited every corner and set the stakes and poles where they would provide the strongest protection; I hammered the stakes in all the way and set the guy-ropes taut. Following this I looped a guy-rope through the grommet located in the middle of each edge of the tarp and staked them out taut as well. Now I had real protection from the elements and this tarp would withstand a serious wind as well.

Returning to the truck, I retrieved several items for the table. I lit a candle-lantern and tied it to the center pole so that the dim light hung suspended above the table, then lit another one that stood on the table. I also lit a small oil lamp that threw off a bit more light than the candle-lanterns. The three lights provided plenty of illumination; I never cared much for the harsh light of the Coleman-style lanterns. My small kettle-shaped charcoal grill went on the ground at one end of the picnic table. After loading the grill with charcoal, I sprayed the briquettes with lighter fluid and set the load ablaze. The flames quickly engulfed the charcoal; the small grill would provide heat and dry the tabletop once the coals were going.

I unrolled my small dome tent and erected it under the dining-fly. I slid the three aluminum tent poles through the narrow sleeves on the outside of the tent and, after bending the poles into an arch, connected each end of the poles to a metal spike secured to the outside edge of the tent's floor. The bent poles created a strong tension in the fabric of the dome, which meant that I could completely erect the tent, including rain fly, and then move the tent to another location. Picking up the hammer and the two stakes I had left on the picnic table earlier, I carried the six-sided tent to an adjoining campsite and secured the covered dome to the ground with long stakes hammered deep into the earth, one on the left front and one at the right rear. After that, I made sure the zipper openings were secured against the rain. This tent would reserve the site for my friends who planned to arrive the following evening.

Following that, I drove back to the unmanned registration station, filled out the forms, and paid for the two campsites for a week. The money for each site went into an envelope and the envelope went into a large steel pipe with a slot in the top.

Returning to my camp, I backed the truck into the parking space and turned off the lights and engine for the last time that night. I swung up the hatch on the end of the camper-top. As I wanted to leave the back open, I draped a vinyl cover over the open hatch; this hung down the sides and prevented water from dripping or raining into the bed of the truck. Now I could sleep under the camper-top with the window open.

It was less than ten feet from the back of my truck to the covered table. The coals in the grill were starting to catch and I picked up the grill by its legs and placed it on one end of the table. On the other end, I set out my food crate, tapes, and a small stereo. Noise wasn’t an issue because of the rain and wind; hell, hardly anyone was camping here tonight. I put my cooler on the bench, slipped a tape into the stereo, and made a large bourbon Manhattan on the rocks in a lexan glass. Stripping off my boots, poncho, and hat, I slipped into rubber-bottomed camp loafers, jeans, and a warm sweater.

After placing a foam pad down on the wet bench of the picnic table, I sat down with my back to the hot charcoal grill and enjoyed a long pull from my drink. It was pleasant now, relaxing in the candlelight surrounded by the sound of the wind out in the darkness and the rain falling on the tarp above me, music from the stereo soft beside my ear. I thought I should rustle up a snack, some cheese and crackers or smoked oysters perhaps. The wind had a wonderful wet and sweet aroma to it, and I could feel the heat from the grill against the back of my neck and shoulders. I was in the White Mountains again, what could be finer.