Our annual backpacking trip rolls around in late summer. My family joins three other families for an intense climb up into the mountains and a few nights out in the woods. When I started hiking this morning, my pack was already heavy. Now the pack on my back weighs as much as I do. Okay, maybe half as much as I do. But we've been hiking for three hours up the side of this mountain, so it feels like my parents packed bricks on this camping trip.
So far, we've already endured one treacherous river crossing. Engorged with spring run off, the river cascaded down the mountain with a warrior's roar. We stripped off our hiking boots and socks, wading through waist deep water, gripping the line with all of our strength. The current tugged at our ankles, inviting us to go for a ride.
Now we've crested the ridge, and after hiking across a snowfield for ten minutes, it's time for the decent.
"Slide down on your butt!" One of the adults calls from the bottom of the snow covered hill.
My boots crunch. Slip. Slide. Skid. It's probably for the best. I sit on my butt and scrunch forward, digging my heels in to control the decent. Other kids whizz past me, whooping on the way down. I take my time. Once we've all descended, the adult leaves a trail marker for the other half of the group who are behind us and we head north to camp.
Before we head to the camp site, we stop at Costco. Ricky picks me up and we meet up with her brother and sister-in-law. It's the first time since being in Taiwan that I've been able to visit Costco. I'm quickly overwhelmed from seeing food I haven't seen in almost a year. I do a tour through the bakery section, running my fingers over the package of muffins that reminds me of mornings waking up at my oma and opa's house. I can't resist the bagels, and end up getting two bags. Everyone else is actually focused on what we'll be eating for dinner. I continue to be distracted by long forgotten foods, like cheese. I tell them I'll eat whatever they get get.
Once Costco has been cleared, we pile into our cars and start the drive. It's about an hour before we pull up to a camp site sitting in the foothills of Taichung. We're up amidst pear orchards and rolling green hills. The campsite manager says we've got a large section all to ourselves.
We've got the woods all to ourselves. Well, occasionally other hikers pass by the ridge above our campsite, but for the most part it's ours. We begin to set up camp, dividing up the roles amongst everyone.
My dad hauls fallen branches out of the forest like a golden retriever on a mission. The rest of us leave him to do his thing, working to get the tents up, get the fire started, collect water, and throw the bear bag up in the tree. My family had located a decent spot for our tent. Fairly flat, though at a slight angle. No protruding rocks. Home sweet home. My brother and I pitch the tent, aligning the sleeping bags so that our heads will be uphill.
My dad had now pulled enough lumber out of the woods to start a small logging business. Now the real work begins. After twenty minutes of stacking and sweating, the shape emerges.
"It's a table, guys!" He says. He pulls up a stump and plops down next to it. He leans on it with one arm. I have to give it to him, the thing doesn't budge. We all laugh. It will be used for non-important items.
The other tents are up now, four all together near the lake's edge. A fire is crackling in the pit. A Jetboil is heating up water for cocoa and tea. As night falls, headlamps are bundled over our hats, beams of light slashing through the black sky.
Camp is all set up.
Camp is all set up.
Or at least I think it is. More items keep popping up around me. First it was the tents, pretty standard, though we had supports to put below them and an air mattress to sleep on. Then a massive "living room" was set up; basically a giant tent with no front and back. This is has been wonderful for keeping off the glaring Taiwan summer sun. The other helpful cooling mechanism has been the five fans all plugged in and roaring away.
Before my eyes three tables are unfolded. Camping chairs pop into existence. Three stoves are set up on one table, laksa hot pot bubbling away in one, roasted chicken going on the other. Music fills the afternoon air, bursting from the speakers hung around the camp.
I try to find ways to help, but there's not much for me to do. I don't always understand the instructions and they all appear to have a system. Ricky, Alicia and I stand in the shade of a nearby tree, watching it all pop up before us.
"我们是废物。“ (We're useless) Ricky says.
So we toss the frisbee around on the stretch of green lawn, while the others set everything up.
While the parents finish setting up camp, the kids beg off and head for the lake. It's only a few meters from our campsite and glistens in the late afternoon sun. We leap off a low cliff and plunge into the icy water. One kid discovers that if you swim further into the middle of the lake there is a shelf you can stand on. We wave from seemingly deep water to the parents who have come to check on our antics.
Someone else discovers a marshy area stuffed with frogs. We wade barefoot through the shallow water, the mud squelching up between our toes. One girl is a pro and catches four, handing them off to the other kids. I hold one in my hand. It's skin is damp and sticky against my palm. Will I get warts from this? It leaps out of my hands and back to the safety of the marsh.
The girl takes one back to camp in her shirt pocket, intent on bringing it home as a pet. Try as I might, I struggle with catching frogs. I get my hands tented over them, then spook when they jump as I get too close. I follow the others back to the camp empty handed.
In terms of entertainment, I really turned up empty handed. All told we have a kettle bell, two frisbees, four boardgames, two kendamas and probably more that isn't out on the table. All I have to offer is a deck of cards. Ricky demonstrates her kick-ass skills with kettlebell juggling. I make an attempt, get a few of the tricks and then drop it on my foot, which ends my participation in that training.
We all spread around the lawn and toss the frisbee around. When others get tired, Alicia and I throw together. After a quick basic skills session, she is killing it, and we throw back and forth without the original chorus of "sorry". When everyone else gets tired of running after biffed throws, I tell Ricky that all she has to do is stand, and I'll do all the running. Thus I begin my brief introduction to football and running patterns. When she struggles with the concept, Shawn steps in as my QB. After a couple of misunderstandings about "set, hike," we connect on a few slant passes.
"So did you do this as training?" he asks, knowing my background as a college athlete.
"No," I laugh, "this is what we did for fun as kids."
He looks at me funny. "Americans and Taiwanese have very different childhoods."
As the evening falls, the tent is lit up from the inside by light strips hung from the ceiling. We all gather around the table to play boardgames. The first is a betting game on camel racing. Although the instructions are in Chinese, I get the hang of it pretty quick and end up finishing second. While a group of us play, those in charge of dinner roast chicken and get hot pot going. The smoke wafts over our faces as I try to place my bet on the white camel.
The smoke from the fire picks a different person to drift towards every few minutes. We are all gathered around eating dinner together. Each family has packed their own assortment of freeze-dried meals, nuts, granola bars and jerky. A Jetboil prepares hot water to rehydrate our dinner. A chill creeps into the evening air. We circle around the campfire, which is hard at work drying our boots and socks. Ghost stories are told. Classic.
Hot water is poured into my plastic dinner bag. I zip it closed and shake it around while I listen to the chatter. As I open the bag, the delightful smell of beef noodles doesn't match the unappetizing mush at the bottom of my bag. But it tastes fine, so I chow down. My feet are tired from a long day of hiking. Mosquitoes sneak onto any exposed skin. The lumpy ground will dig into my back throughout the night and in the morning everything will be slightly damp. But I could care less because every minute has been an awesome adventure.
After dinner we venture into the land of gold mines and saboteurs. We play another card game, this one involving bluffing and sabotage. I've played games like these before, which are hard enough in your native language, but doubly hard when you're trying to stay up with all the trash talk in a different language. "Evil, lying traitor" wasn't exactly on the vocabulary list in school. But we have a ton of fun. So much in fact that we get shushed by the proprietor around 11:00pm. We play two more games before winding down. I get complimented on my poker face, which is probably the first time in history I've heard that one.
As the evening comes to a close, my brain begins to shut down. The others try their best to include me in the conversation, but a full day of Chinese has taken its toll. Luckily, it's finally time for bed. We shower in very clean showers, wash the dishes and pack up all the snacks. I collapse onto my cushy air mattress exhausted, sunburned, mosquito bitten and still uncomfortably hot, but so incredibly happy.
While this experience in Taiwan is more comparable to "glamping" than to the hardcore backpacking I did with my family as a kid, it was still incredibly enjoyable. In fact, I got used to the fans, the lights, delicious food and air mattress really quickly. Makes it hard to want to go back to sleeping with only a tarp between you and the cold hard ground. At the end of the day, it just depends on what you're looking for out of your camping experience.
As always, I'm super grateful to Ricky and her family and friends who let me tag along on this trip and continually draw me into their circle of friends. They have truly become my second family.
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