The first gusts, rumbles and flashes pulsed through our family tent's flimsy nylon walls late one Saturday night in August, in the campground at Maplewood State Park in Pelican Rapids. My wife, 5-year-old daughter and I were snuggled in our sleeping bags when I was shaken awake.
"Jim, go get Ben!" my wife whispered loudly.
To back up, let me explain that our exuberant son, Ben, just 1 at the time, thrived on early morning light when camping. That meant denying the remainder of the family that last hour or so of rest before 6:30 a.m. Our solution was "Ben's Tent," a smaller enclosure that held his portable crib, anchored next to our larger tent, not more than 2 inches distant.
I untangled from my toasty sleeping bag and unzipped the tent flap, plunging into darkness punctuated by brilliant flashes and a torrential downpour. Struggling to unzip the fly on Ben's tent with water cascading down my neck, I thrust my torso inside, trying to keep the puddle from forming a lake beneath his crib.
He was sound asleep.
Knowing this news would not pacify my wife, I urgently plucked my offspring out of bed, diving through the rain and into our tent, where we were all now alert.
Thus are forged precious memories of camping in Minnesota.
To be sure, not all camping outings are spiced with misadventures. Some are graced with speechless beauty, such as the night along the shore of Lake Superior in a cart-in site at Split Rock Lighthouse State Park. Our campfire popped and murmured, bright against the lake and woods. Then, peeking above the watery horizon, the almost-full moon climbed among the stars. Delaying bedtime for our children, we lingered a little longer in the glow of the flickering flames and the rippling reflection of the moon.