Prelude to a Quad War

I've been resisting assorted SCA camping events for a few years now. You'll need a little background why.

I camped all the time when I was a kid. My folks had a camper and went out just about every weekend over the summer. It was their thing to do for relaxation. Problem was, that was all they'd do. They wouldn't go to see anything or do anything. They'd find the most boring, secluded, campgrounds possible, plug the RV in, haul out their deck chairs and start reading and sipping cold drinks.

I was bored out of my skull. I did a lot of bike riding. If I was really lucky, we'd be someplace that had video games. This being the early 80's that meant stand-up video games that charged 25 cents a play. I'd burn through all my allowance in about an hour. That left the rest of the weekend. If I was truly fortunate, I'd be near a water park and I could spend the day getting sunburned on a water slide.

The only exception to this rule was Dinosaur Park, which had hikes and activities. Even when there were no hikes or activities, it had its own inherent coolness to a kid who wanted to be a Paleontologist when he grew up.

Compounding the issue was the fact that my father had an explosive temper. Close quarters for three days and two nights could usually guarantee that I'd be yelled at, at least once. Plus he snored. And being young and physically isolated from civilization, I had no option but to put up with it.

The folks started leaving me home when I was 15. It was bliss.

Self-esteem also comes into it, as it usually does. In this case pit toilets and the lack of bathing facilities would have a negative impact on my attractiveness, so I want to avoid that situation at all costs. Just as you'll never find a more rabid anti-smoking activist then in an ex-smoker, you'll have a hard time finding someone less fussy about there appearance as someone who was formerly fat and ugly. I don't want to give anyone a chance to judge me poorly on my appearance if I can help it.

It's irrational I know, because you're camping and presumably everyone else is just as stinky as you. But all I need to do is realize that I'm sticky or sweaty or otherwise gross, and I'll start looking around at everyone I see and wonder which one of them I'm offending.

Finally there was a bit of economic foolishness too. I always had this idea that camping was expensive. It certainly can be expensive, and probably should be if you're the sort of person who does a lot of camping, or needs everything to be ultra light, or made for extreme conditions. Camping now and then, during the summer, in the equivalent of a camp ground, does not have to be expensive. The equipment I purchased for Quad war cost me less then a weekend in a decent hotel would. I didn't get everything I could conceivably need, but then I didn't need to - I had a car if anything truly heinous happened to me. Being more complete in my purchases would not cost much more. I don't expect to need to climb Everest or anything.

When I made the decision to go to Quad War, I knew that it would involve camping (commuting to and from Lloydminster, or wherever the nearest motel was, was not a viable option - seeing the motels in the little one-horse towns on the way there confirmed this), so I bought some camping equipment. This meant a minimum of a cooler, tent, sleeping bag and air mattress. These I purchased the week before and I made the smart decision to set them up in the backyard at Pepperland and leave it up for a few days. The purpose was twofold. I wanted to make sure I could put everything together in the dark if need be and I wanted it all to have a good chance to air out and get rid of that "new car" smell.

I didn't want to do anything "wrong" as a way of confirming my preconceived notions about camping. I really did want to give it the old college try and see if I like it now, as opposed to simply remembering not liking it then (the Tomato Principle). This also meant going into it with an open mind and a positive attitude. I think I more-or-less convinced myself, but even so, I was pretty nervous Friday morning as I packed my stuff and got ready to leave.

Originally the thought was to hit the road around 11 and to pick up vilashna. She ended up getting a ride with Liz. I ended up hitting the road around 1:30. Good thing I didn't have anything I needed to be at Friday night. Next time, I shall pack earlier and I'll have a list of things to bring. Having camped once, I now have a shot of having an accurate list.

The drive was mind-numbing in its boringness. I'll spare you all details except these two:

• Small-town Alberta does not understand that a Cajun Chicken Caesar should be spicy (being Cajun) also the chicken shouldn't be so dry as to take five minutes to chew each piece. Ugh.
• Hobbema is the hitch-hiking capital of Alberta. Aside from two I saw on the way out of town, every hitch-hiker I saw (about twenty total for both trips through the region) was in the 10 K on either side of Hobbema. They even had signs warning you about pedestrian traffic on the shoulder. Weird.

Both murchad and Beothuk said it was a 4.5 hour trip. Lies. It took me six hours both ways - and I was speeding. Now admittedly I stopped for 1/2 an hour to choke back the world's driest chicken salad and on the way back God tried to kill everyone on Highway 2, but even so, the only way they could have done it was to drive insanely fast. Of course, they're both insane, so maybe that's why.

This was the first time I had to drive on secondary highways (except for a trip out to Kananaskis last fall) and I don't like it. Mostly because I hate passing in the oncoming lane. It always fills me with anxious dread. I suspect this is because I could die in a head-on collision. I flashed back to camping trips with my Dad again whenever I'd have to do one. Of course Dad was an exceptional driver, but every time he did I would feel the same thing. Odd, I hadn't felt that in over twenty years and when it happened again I remembered exactly where the feeling had occurred before.

One of the things I forgot was the map, but a combination of good memory and Zen navigating got me there without a single wrong turn.

No shit, there I was in a farmer's field outside Marsden Saskatchewan with 500 other medieval recreationists...