Safari So Good

“Don’t Live the Same Year 75 Times and Call it a Life”

Robin S. Sharma

I was quite nervous about the prospect of sleeping and dressing in a tent.  It has been 20+ years since I slept on the ground.  I wasn’t actually sure I would be able to sleep at all.  These old hips get achy just walking around, forget about laying on a hard surface for 8 hours each night.  Dustin assured me that the pad they provide for under the sleeping bag was thick and comfortable.  Just to be sure, I borrowed another blow-up pad to add to the one they provide.  Oh, yeah, and I also obtained a small prescription of Ambien (sleeping pills) from my Doctor to help.  It turned out I had no problem sleeping on the ground.  It was also warm in the tents and the sleeping bags were more than sufficient against the elements.

However, tent living is still a challenge.  The tent was plenty large for two of us along with our clothing and personal items.  And it was tall enough to stand in, just not all the way up.  So, the options were get dressed while laying on the ground or while standing hunched over.  I chose the second option.  It was not bad, but by the end of the trip, I had a catch in my back that hurt every time I tried to bend over.  A handful of Motrin, pain pills, a glass of wine and second hand marijuana smoke cured all that ailed me.

The biggest challenge was having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.  In the dark.  On the ground.  Outside the tent.  The night it rained all day and the cold wind blew on us the entire rafting trip, I was still cold when I went to bed.  After finally getting down on the ground (not easy when your legs and upper body strength is less than ideal) and getting into the sleeping bag, I realized my feet were freezing.  I knew if I put socks on, it would help, but the thought of sitting back up, rifling through my bag for a pair of socks, then crawling back into the sleeping back was just a pain.  Nonetheless, after 15 minutes or so of not being able to fall asleep, I did just that.  It was so nice with my feet finally warm, I snuggled back in the sleeping bag and was soon fast asleep.  Sometime later, I woke with the terrible urge to pee.  Again, I thought NO – I just want to sleep.  But sleep would not come back to me.  So, I got up, crawled out of my tent with my socks and jammies on and went just a few feet away from the tent (I wasn’t going very far in the black of night)!!  We were on a very slight incline, so I tried to face the appropriate flow of direction and began to relieve myself.  About 6 inches of my jammie legs were hanging down around my feet and I suddenly realized my sock was soaking wet.  I was standing in a puddle of urine.  The bottom of my jammie leg was also soaked!!!!  I wanted to just cry, but that would do no good.  So, I went back into the tent, found some dry socks, tried to use a small towel to partially dry my jammie leg (I only had one pair of pajamas and it was too cold to go without).  Then, having no choice, me and my peed on jammie climbed back into the sleeping bag and I went to sleep.

That same morning, having had a night of interrupted sleep, I was moving around a bit sleepy and disoriented.  Everyone else was up and sitting around at the tables enjoying coffee and waiting for breakfast.  As I started out of the tent, my foot caught on the 5″ lip around the floor of the entrance to the tent.  I took a header out the door, landing flat on the ground with my face in the sand.  Thank goodness we were on sand — the day before there was a big rock in the very spot where my face now lay.  Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt and sat up, taking inventory to make sure I didn’t break anything. I sat there for the longest time, hoping no one had seen me.  My back was to the group, so I just waited to see if someone would yell or come running.  They didn’t (again, thank goodness) and I was so grateful.  How freakin’ embarrassing!

When I asked my sister, Karlene if she had any funny tent stories, she did absolutely top mine…

She chose to dress each day laying down.  Here is why that’s not a good idea — one morning she dressed and started out of her tent.  She was halfway to the tables and circle of rafters when she realized something didn’t feel right in her mid-section.  She felt around and realized that one of her boobs was not inside her bra!  Somehow, her boob had slipped below the bra line and never made it into the cup of her bra.  It didn’t make the cut, so to speak.  When she told me this story, I laughed so hard I almost wet myself (again).

Michael by our tent.

This is how you dry your clothes when living in a tent.

Our tents await us on the hillside.

Another view of the tents.

“How can you smoke all day if you don’t start before breakfast?”    

author’s name withheld

Never in my life (and remember, I was a teenager in the 60’s) have I seen so much marijuana in one place. A couple of fellow rafters brought a stash of pot and hash and began using it on day one. Although we were a varied group of individuals, no one seemed to mind. Maybe it was the whole ‘Off the Grid’ situation or the fact that we were in the wilderness with no witnesses. Some did not partake, many did – although the owners of the stash were very willing to share with anyone who was interested.
Just to be crystal clear – Dustin gave the holders of the stash stern warnings about carrying and/or smoking during the trip. He reminded them that it is highly illegal in Idaho, plus we would be on federal land! However, not having authority to stop them and everyone being adults, his attitude was that if they wanted to do it, knowing the risks, it was entirely up to them.
In fact, the group that did partake, were quite funny as they got more and more stoned as the day went on, particularly in the evenings as we sat around after dinner. If you did not want to actually smoke, but wanted some benefit of the other’s activities, all you had to do was sit down wind. It was an easy, light high – not a bad way to relax.
One evening as we were sitting around a fire, I was watching one of the guys with a Tupperware bowl full of huge rolled joints. He was laying them out on a table over my right shoulder, when one of them rolled off the table and onto the ground. Remember, we were in the wilderness. Except for the little light the fire gave off, it was pitch black out there. He was so stoned, but he felt around on the ground for the joint and couldn’t find it. I saw exactly where it fell and wondered if I should help him, but I didn’t (to tell the truth, I didn’t want him to know I had been watching him). He gave up and went back to sit in the circle. A few minutes later, another rafter is behind me with a flashlight looking around on the ground. Someone says, “What are you looking for?” She says, “Nothing!” I then turn and point to the ground just beneath the edge of the table and said, “It’s on the ground, right below the edge of the table – I saw it drop. It should be right there.” She reaches down and finds it and loudly announces, “It’s okay, I found what I wasn’t looking for!”
I laughed so hard – they were really funny and quite silly, and the more they smoked (and drank, by the way) the more they laughed out loud. For some reason, it just all seemed perfectly acceptable and quite hilarious.
When one of them lit up very early one morning, someone asked, “Isn’t it a little early to start that?” The response was, “How can you smoke all day if you don’t start before breakfast?”
There was a core group of participants (but NEVER Dustin or the guides) and Michael dubbed them “The Breakfast Club”.  Sorry, no pictures – I don’t want to out any of my new friends!