your best camping trip

[emiller]

Every time I hitch up to my tear

[Q]

A cub-scout campout in the early 60s in a place we dubbed "Post Nasel Drip" because of the persistant fog in the California Redwoods. My friend Bob and I pitched our $5 pup tent on a hill about 100 yards above a creek. As we lay there talking before going to sleep we noticed we were slowly sliding out under the door. Those $5 pup tents had no zippers, just a tie in door flaps. We wriggled ourselves back up into the tent and went to sleep.

In the morning Bob was nowhere to be found. I figured he got up early and went to the campfire to have breakfast, but he wasn't there. Eventually we found him sleeping soundly in his sleeping bag next to the creek, 100 yards down the hill. He slid under the door and all the way down during the night without waking up.

Q