Clifty Falls State Park in Madison, Indiana September 14, 2011

“What do you mean, you’re not going camping with us!?” Sara demanded to know when I told her that I would not be joining the family for a Labor Day camping trip to Clifty Falls State Park in Madison, Indiana. The trip was taking place immediately after my first week of teaching at my new job and only two weeks after accepting the job. In the meantime, I had packed my stuff, said good-bye to my husband, driven from New Hampshire to Indiana with my mom and daughter, and moved into Mom’s basement. I had also written two brand new course syllabi, gone through new faculty orientation, and met my seventy-some new students.

But Sara was still shocked. “You have to come! It’s a family tradition!”

The truth in that statement is that for the past two years, my family has gotten together to camp over Labor Day weekend. Two years ago, they camped in Mom’s backyard. One year ago, they camped at some tiny lake in Ohio. Those years, there were seven adults and two kids. Her “family tradition” claim, then, is a bit weak to say the least.

This year, Mom had made reservations at Clifty Falls State Park, about 120 miles from where I grew up near Muncie.  She had reserved the campsites in May—one had electricity, one did not.

“OF COURSE YOU HAVE TO COME!” Sara insisted.

“OF COURSE YOU HAVE TO COME!” my brother Phil demanded.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU’RE NOT COMING?” my sister Karen said incredulously.

Only Mom seemed to understand that a camping trip with my entire family (now eight adults and five children) might be a bit too much to tackle, especially after starting a new job.

But they wore me down, my troublemaking siblings, and somehow I ended up buying all of the snacks for the trip on Thursday afternoon, packing my bag late Thursday night, and heading to Clifty Falls after my last class on Friday. Chuck had gone down with Mom earlier in the day. Sara and her husband Landon picked me up outside of my office building, and suddenly it occurred to me that I didn’t even have my own car. If the trip was awful, I wouldn’t even have the option to leave.

I’m about to tell you why camping in Clifty Falls was the biggest mistake of my summer.

This photo of Clifty Falls State Park is courtesy of TripAdvisor

* * *

BUT FIRST! A brief review of the park itself: great campground, clean bathrooms, lots of space at each campsite, reliable electricity, beautiful scenery, several playgrounds, reasonable costs, firewood and ice available most hours of the day, great little town of Madison nearby.

That’s all I can tell you about the park itself, because I didn’t get to see any more of it. Why? Because my family chose the STUPIDEST WEEKEND EVER to go camping.

Our substantially large campsite on the electric loop

Friday Night

Welcome to Clifty Falls, where it is ninety degrees in the shade, and most of the family will be arriving after dark to set up their tents in anger and frustration. Friday night is hot, sticky, and hard work. Mom has already set up the pop-up, and I have explained that I will be taking one of the camper beds. I figure if they want me on this trip, they’d better let me sleep where I want to.

Mom grills burgers and hot dogs over charcoal, and Chuck refuses to eat anything other than grapes. When it is time for bed—before Karen and Rajeev arrive with their kids, and before Phil and Emily arrive with their baby—Chuck manages to fall off the camper bed and bang up her poor little head. Oh, does she cry! I hold her and cuddle her until she finally gets sleepy enough to doze off in the little tent I got for her. For the rest of the weekend, I will zip that darn thing up before I leave her alone in it.

It’s hot, but we sleep well in the camper. The rest of the family arrives and, despite Phil’s initial anger at being put at the non-electric site, everyone settles in. We’ve heard it’s going to be a hot one tomorrow.

Comforting Chuck after her fall

Saturday

ONE HUNDRED DEGREES.

Chuck and I get up early, before anyone else, and our walk around the campground is the only part of the day that we’re not sweating.

Later, Phil says my little girl looks like she should be in a photograph from the Great Depression. She squats in the dirt under a tree, her hair in a pontytail on the very top of her head. She wears nothing but a diaper that is covered in dirt and mulch. Her head is bruised and scabby from last night’s fall, and she has smeared dirt across her face when she has wiped away the sweat.

Chuck trying to stay cool in the shade (this was before I finally just had her go around naked)

Five-year-old Arya, my niece, had been tasked with packing toys for her brother and her to play with. She brought a suitcase full of stuffed animals. In retaliation, two-year-old Alex throws himself to the ground at one point, pulling his wrist out of socket. My sister and her husband end up taking him to a nearby med center after he doesn’t stop being sad about it for an hour, but praise the Lord! He is miraculously healed by a nap in the car!

Five kids, none of them older than five.

Eight adults, all of us tired of the heat.

Screw this, we think. Let’s go to the movies.

And we do.

Chuck's first-ever trip to the movie theater

Sunday

So it has already been a hundred degrees on one day of our camping trip. What could make it more enjoyable? How about a day of non-stop rain?

I shouldn’t say non-stop. It frequently stops raining JUST long enough that I dare to go out of the camper and set up my little camp chair, right in time for the heavens to open again. Once or twice I even try to ignore the rain, pretend it’s not happening.

Of course I end up soaked.

Keeping the babies dry in the camper

It’s a good thing I borrowed a project from work and unhooked my computer speakers. My equipment combined with Rajeev’s computer means we get to spend a chunk of the rainy afternoon watching Toy Story 2 projected onto a sheet on one side of the pop-up. It keeps the kids happy, and I get to read approximately two pages of a book I’ve been wanted to read for months.

I also grade a few student papers.

In the evening, just before sundown, Mom and I finally make our way to Big Clifty Falls, where there is, evidently, a waterfall. I don’t see a waterfall, but I do see some beautiful hills and trees. Chuck sees a playground.

Chuck and me checking out Big Clifty

We make it back to the campsite in time for dinner to be served in the camper. Phil and Landon have cooked smoked sausage, green beans, and potatoes over the fire, and they bring the pans of food inside. Their clothes and hair are soaked through. We assign the kids seats and tell them not to move.

We eat green beans.

“Arya, you need to sit still!”

We eat sausage.

“Alex, please stay right here.”

We eat potatoes.

“Chuck, please just eat SOMETHING. I’m begging you.”

Avoiding the rain at dinnertime

My brother’s wife takes their daughter and heads back home to Columbus, Ohio—Phil will leave with us tomorrow. Suddenly Mom and I have a new body in the camper with us for the night. When Sara and Landon discover that their tent has flooded, they join us, too. Two adults and a baby in the camper has turned into five adults and two babies.

SOMEONE STEALS ALL MY BLANKETS! Because the temperature drops to forty-five in the night, I wake everyone up at two in the morning and demand a blanket. Where was everyone hiding these blankets they all seem to pull from their beds and give to me?

The rest of the night goes just fine.

Monday

WHY THE HELL IS IT THIS COLD? Fifty-five degrees as we wash our dishes and dump our charcoal and pack up the camper.

We load ourselves into cars and drive back to Muncie.

Our weekend at Clifty Falls is over at last. We’re all a little bruised, a little tired, and a little mad at each other.

All worn out and dressed in anything I could find that would keep her warm.

It’s a good thing I like these people so much. I might actually be willing to go back next year. IF and only if the weather is going to be perfect.

And I still get my spot in the camper.

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