By Gary Ogle
gogle@wbcowqel.com
The 21st version of the Annual Ogle Camping Expedition has come and gone. We officially started our third decade of the annual summer ritual many others are either too timid, too fond of dry bedding, or too wise to attempt.
Some may call us foolhardy, or worse, for doing this not once but 21 consecutive summers. What comes to my mind is the definition of doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results.
Four generations of our family ventured off into the beautiful forests of the Midwest this year. It was our third family expedition to Brown County State Park in Nashville, not Tennessee but Indiana.
We numbered 16 this year. The youngest being three weeks old, the oldest 77 nearing 78, and the longest trip award goes to those from Bethlehem, not the West Bank in Israel but North Carolina.
As we sat around the camp fire this year I couldn’t help but reflect on our humble family camping beginnings. I won’t go all the way back to sleeping on the mattress taken from my childhood bed and put in the back of a station wagon for a trip to East Harbor, or a borrowed tent without a floor to sleep out at Old Man’s Cave.
But 21 years ago my brother and I decided we would like to camp together again with our parents, spouses and children. So we borrowed again – that time in 1993 a pop-up camper and full-size van from a friend to go with my young nephew’s child’s pup tent meant for two that had to sleep five on that first trip for 11 of us.
Like every trip since, that first one to Potato Creek State Park near South Bend also included a dog. One later trip included seven canines of various sizes and breeds. But this year we only had three. We also had two tents we now own plus our own pop-up that has served us since year two and a 22-foot camping trailer. That’s not to mention two independently standing canopies (each 20 feet long), one camp stove, a gas grill, a boat, a canoe, an electric motor scooter, one bicycle, one 4-wheeler tow truck fashioned like Mater from Cars (toddler size of course), and for good measure our very own 8-inch deep swimming pool for the campsite that was half filled with rain water this year.
Oops – I failed to mention three electric camp refrigerators, one electric freezer, one electric ice cream maker and three, make that four, portable tables in addition to the four picnic tables provided by the state park that went with our three campsites. There were also 16 camp chairs, two of which were rockers, and three hammocks. And lots and lots of firewood.
One might be tempted to ask why we chose to return to Brown County for the third time. I think the more compelling question is why they would allow us back after hosting our crowd on two previous occasions. But I can’t answer for the state authorities in Indiana so I’ll answer for us.
One – the park is expansive enough even for us. It is just shy of 16,000 acres and is Indiana’s largest state park.
Two – It is absolutely gorgeous. The views across the rolling hills of the Hoosier National Forest are breathtaking.
Three – One of the two lakes in the park is named after us: Ogle Lake. OK, I must confess they didn’t name it after us. I must also confess I had to be stopped from swiping a sign for Ogle Lake to hang over my bath tub at home.
The other question you might ask is what we did for nine days when it rained on seven of them. The more accurate question is what didn’t we do.
We hiked, went hunting for worms, nuts, and lightning bugs and trapped chipmunks. We rode bikes, went fishing, canoeing, horseback riding, and climbed a fire tower. We went swimming, (two of our party in Lake Ogle after tipping the canoe), played baseball and fought a war in a stone fort/lookout tower with paper ninja stars. We made homemade bottle rockets that fizzled, glow bottles with household chemicals, saw fireworks, and read mystery stories by flashlight with my grandsons in the dark tent at night.
We played cards and backgammon, and cornhole. We took long walks in the morning to learn all about nature from my 5-year-old grandson. We ate, boy did we eat. We laughed and recalled past camping trips and reminisced about my late niece and how much she would have enjoyed this trip with a three-week-old, 3-year-old and 5-year-old.
We relaxed, didn’t think about work and argued about baseball, football and books. We watched my daughter fall from 1) a hammock, 2) a canoe, 3) out of a chair, and 4) down a wet ramp. (I promised her I wouldn’t identify which of my daughters has balance issues but it was the one who teaches – high school English).
But we don’t go camping every summer just to do any of those things. We go to be together again as a family in a setting where we depend on and serve each other. We go to remember, to rejoice, and on one occasion to grieve together. We laugh until we cry and when it’s time to go home we cry until we laugh again.
I know camping and the great outdoors experience isn’t for everyone. But for us, well I think my three-week-old great-nephew’s shirt said it best: “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this trip.”