Camping "Fun:" Part II

Hufflepuff II

Hufflepuff I

Team Gryff-erin

 

In case you missed it...Camping "Fun:" Part I

I love the ocean. Or I thought I did. Apparently, for all these years, I have loved the kiddie-ride portion of ocean of which I had been exposed. The ocean with soft, exfoliating sand. With gentle waves that wrap around your ankles and tug upon your heartstrings. The ocean boarded by ice cream stands, souvenir stalls, and restrooms with working illumination and soap. The ocean I could reach within a block's walk. Looking back now, I could slap myself for my petty complaints. "The sand is too hot." "My ice cream is dripping." "I had to wait in line to use a scorpion-free/Argentinian ant-free/coyote-free/bobcat-free/rattlesnake-free potty."

But here I was. Looking at the mile-long, dusty, dirt trail surrounded by thorny scrub-brush that offered little shade but effectively hid every Amy-eating animal known to man.  Standing in the scorching heat, looking at the mile-long, dusty, dirt trail that led to a Pacific I had never known. This was the big-kid part of the ocean. This was not an ocean that offered friendly waves. This was an ocean that flipped you the middle finger while pounding you into its stony surf. Oh yeah. You read that right. Ankle-turning, back-biting, unforgiving ROCK. I had to use my "beach" chair as a walker to make my way to the water and then discovered, as I shakily stood there, that each outgoing tide would attempt to dislodge me like a magician pulling a tablecloth from under a flower vase. And that each trick would be accompanied by a sound similar to fire crackers...ground sparklers...going off. A villainous chuckle from the sea. "Rock"-ous laughter.

The surfers were in heaven. My boogie-boarding family was bruised, but delighted. I spent my time trying to find my balance. As I gazed, fearfully, from the cliff's edge (before being tugged back to a more secure vantage point by my husband who called me "Stumble-grumkin"), I noticed, for the first time, the triangular formation made by the in-coming waves. How had I never known this before? "Maybe because this is the first time you've seen it from this vantage point," Brad said, bending to tie my loose shoelace. With a strong foundation of 4th grade geometry, I marveled at the wonders of nature. I considered the triangular wave of an echocardiogram. Sound waves. The use of triangles in architecture. The Great Pyramid of Giza. The Bermuda Triangle. The three sides of the Trinity. The Deathly Hallows symbol. This was profound. A revelation. A passing helicopter shook me out of my revelry. 

As my family frolic-ed and played, trying not to get crushed to death by the enormous waves that hammered them against the boulders, I was carefully collecting the materials for my stone sculpture tower. This was different from my usual stone/shell collecting method of which my family insists, annoyingly, of "helping" me with (Sorry for ending with a preposition). Annoying only because they get their noses so out of joint if I don't like theirselections. Generally, I look for traits such as smooth, translucent, eroded holes. I am picky about sparkle. It has to be the right kind of sparkle. For example, I found a small, tan disc that had just the right kind. "It looks like a snickerdoodle!" I squealed, snatching it up. 

I found the perfect rock for Savannah's house. "I don't want it," she said flatly (and rather ungratefully, if you asked me). Undeterred, I showed her all the reasons why this was the perfect addition to her home. "It's the size of a small cat," she pointed out (like that was a bad thing). "Look how its been bleached white by doubtless hundreds of years of sun exposure." I explained, "See the way the water has bored tunnels through its rocky core." "I don't want it," she repeated. No worries. I had Sydney lug it the mile-long, vertical climb back to our campsite, smuggled it in Savannah's car, and secreted it into her house, placing it in her bay window where it was immediately spotted by Lisa who squealed happily, "What a beautiful rock! And that is the perfect place to keep it!" I smiled happily at my daughter.

Sculpture rocks collected, I returned to my chair (the "special" one my ample rear end does NOT get stuck in) and began the zen-like process of creating art OF nature FROM nature while IN nature. It was, in a word, sublime. 

Until.

Until, my family, surrendering to the sea, came and collapsed by me. "Whatcha doin'?" Savannah asked, with her usual engineer-like eliteness. Surveying my simple design, she, of course, offered some suggestions. "Stop it," I snapped, "I am being one with nature here." "Here," her father said, "we can make our own. Why don't we make it a competition?" Oh my gosh! This was about meditation. Balance. Harmony with the earth. "Yeah!" Savannah agreed, "We'll have teams!" Sydney and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. That darn Harry Potter House Sorting quiz always comes back to haunt us. Team Hufflepuff against a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Sydney rested peacefully back on her boogie board and let the sun warm her while encouraging her mother with gentle compliments. Brad and Savannah went furiously to work while systematically trash-talking my efforts. Within seconds, they had constructed a

design eighteen rocks tall.  "You need nineteen to win," they crowed. "There are no winners or losers," I murmured like a magi. Sydney offered a sleepy "Amen." Team Gryff-erin was having none of that nonsense. A time limit was suddenly, without warning, imposed. Ridiculously arbitrary rules were made up and implemented. "Stability stones don't count," Brad told me as I slipped a pebble beneath the edge of a wobbly rock. "Decorator rocks don't count either," Savannah said, watching me perch a pretty rock off a jutting edge. "Only rocks that add to height will be included in the final total." Sydney's sleepy head lifted a bit. "I think it's pretty," she declared before returning to her nap. 

I admit it. The pressure was starting to get to me. I almost hit rock bottom when my tower tumbled but I looked at it as an opportunity to start with a clean slate. Rather than seek the psychological id of each stone...instead of connecting to each rock's chi...I harnessed my energies into Darwin's theory of natural selection. Nineteen towering stones later, I was there. Breathless as my cry of victory rang out across the water, I raised my arms to the heavens. I had attained my (a) goal. No...I had not achieved enlightenment. No...I was not one with nature. No...I had not improved, even remotely, as a human being. But Team Hufflepuff CRUSHED Team Gryff-erin! "Go us," Sydney muttered sleepily.

Movement to my side caught my attention as Brad and Savannah began adding to their sculpture. "No fair," I cried, "the contest is done!" They laughed as their tower now trumped twenty stones tall. "Mom, you shouldn't have taken that for granite," Savannah grinned. Dam it!