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How to Camp Out

<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> <h3>MISCELLANEOUS.—GENERAL ADVICE.</h3> If you travel horseback, singly or in parties, a previous experience in riding and in the care of your animal are necessary for pleasure. What is said about overloading applies here: you must go light; let your saddlebags be small, and packed so as not to chafe the horse. If you have the choice of a saddle, take a "McClellan" or a similar one, so that you can easily strap on your blankets and bags. If you have time before starting, try to teach your horse, what so few horses in the Northern States know, to be guided by the pressure of reins against the neck instead of a pull at the bit. <h3>BOATING.</h3> I do not propose to say much about boating, as the subject can hardly have justice done to it in a book of this sort. Parties of young men spend their summer vacation every year in camping and boating. It is a most delightful [Pg 91]way,—superior in many respects to any other,—but it requires both experience and caution, neither of which is usually found in young men. So I hope that, if you will go in a boat, you may be an exception to the general rule, and will, for your parents' and friends' sake, take a small boat without ballast rather than a large one ballasted so heavily that it will sink when it fills. When you belay the sheets of your sail, make a knot that can be untied by a single pull at the loose end: any boatman will show you how to do this. Never make fast the sheets in any other way. Hold the sheets in your hands if the wind is at all squally or strong. Do not venture out in a heavy wind. Stow your baggage snugly before you start: tubs made by sawing a flour-barrel in two are excellent to throw loose stuff into. Remember to be careful; keep your eyes open, and know what you are going to do before you try it. The saying of an old sea-captain comes to me here: "I would rather sail a ship around the world, than to go down the bay in a boat sailed by a boy." <h3>RECKONING LOST.</h3> It often happens in travelling, that the sun rises in what appears the north, west, or south, and we seem to be moving in the wrong direc[Pg 92]tion, so that when we return home our remembrance of the journey is confused. Perhaps a few hints on this subject may help the reader. Supposing your day's journey ends at Blanktown, where you find your compass-points apparently reversed. It then becomes natural for you to make matters worse by trying to lay out in your mind a new map, with Blanktown for the "hub," and east in the west, and so on. You can often prevent these mishaps, and can always make them less annoying, by studying your map well both before and during your journey; and by keeping in your mind continually, with all the vividness you can, what you are really doing. As far as Blanktown is concerned, you will have two impressions, just as we all have two impressions with regard to the revolution of the earth on its axis: apparently the sun rises, goes over and down; but in our minds we can see the sun standing still, and the earth turning from west to east. Upon leaving Blanktown you are likely to carry the error along with you, and to find yourself moving in what appears to be the wrong way. Keep in mind with all the vividness possible, the picture of what you are really doing, and keep out of mind as much as you can the ugly appearance of going the wrong way. Every important change you make, be sure to "see it"[Pg 93] in the mind's eye, and let the natural eye be blind to all that is deceiving. After a while things will grow real, and you must try to keep them so. The more perfectly you know the route and all its details, the less you will be troubled in this way. If you are travelling in the cars, and if you have a strong power of imagination, you can very easily right errors of this kind by learning from the map exactly what you are doing, and then by sitting next to the window, shut your eyes as you go around a curve that tends to aggravate the difficulty, and hold fast what you get on curves that help you. If you sit on the left side of the car, and look ahead, the cars seem to sweep continually a little to the right, and vice versa, when really moving straight ahead,—provided your imagination is good. When you are travelling on an unknown road, you should always inquire all about it, to avoid taking the wrong one, which you are likely to do, even if you have a good map with you. <h3>LADIES AS PEDESTRIANS.</h3> I have once or twice alluded to ladies walking and camping. It is thoroughly practicable for them to do so. They must have a wagon, and do none of the heavy work; their gowns must [Pg 94]not reach quite to the ground, and all of their clothing must be loose and easy.[23] Of course there must be gentlemen in the party; and it may save annoyance to have at least one of the ladies well-nigh "middle-aged." Ladies must be cared for more tenderly than men. If they are not well, the wagon should go back for them at the end of the day's march; shelter-tents are not to be recommended for them, nor are two blankets sufficient bedclothing. They ought not to be compelled to go any definite distance, but after having made their day's walk let the tents be pitched. Rainy weather is particularly unpleasant to ladies in tents; deserted houses, schoolhouses, saw-mills, or barns should be sought for them when a storm is brewing. <h3>LADIES AND CHILDREN IN CAMP.</h3> In a permanent camp, however, ladies, and children as well, can make themselves thoroughly at home.[24] They ought not to "rough it" so [Pg 95]much as young men expect to: consequently they should be better protected from the wet and cold. I have seen a man with his wife and two children enjoy themselves through a week of rainy weather in an A-tent; but there are not many such happy families, and it is not advisable to camp with such limited accommodations. Almost all women will find it trying to their backs to be kept all day in an A-tent. If you have no other kind, you should build some sort of a wall, and pitch the tent on top of it. It is not a difficult or expensive task to put guy-lines and a wall of drilling on an A-tent, and make new poles, or pitch the old ones upon posts. In either case you should stay the tent with lines running from the top to the ground. It has already been advised that women should have a stove; in general, they ought not to depart so far from home ways as men do. Rubber boots are almost a necessity for women and children during rainy weather and while the dew is upon the grass.[Pg 96] <h3>SUMMER-HOUSES, SHEDS, AND BRUSH SCREENS.</h3> There is little to be said of the summer-houses built at the seaside near our large cities, since that is rather a matter of carpentry; nor of portable houses; nor of lattice-work with painted paper; nor even of a "schbang" such as I have often built of old doors, shutters, outer windows, and tarred paper: any one who is ingenious can knock together all the shelter his needs require or means allow. But, where you are camping for a week or more, it pays you well to use all you have in making yourself comfortable. A bush house, a canopy under which to eat, and something better than plain "out-of-doors" to cook in, are among the first things to attend to. If you wish to plant firmly a tree that you have cut down, you may perhaps be able to drive a stake larger than the trunk of the tree; then loosen the stake by hitting it on the sides, and pull it out. You can do this when you have no shovel, or when the soil is too hard to dig. Small stakes wedged down the hole after putting in the tree will make it firm. <h3>ETIQUETTE.</h3> Some things considered essential at the home table have fallen into disuse in camp. It is pardonable, and perhaps best, to bring on whatever [Pg 97]you have cooked in the dish that it is cooked in, so as to prevent its cooling off. You will also be allowed to help yourself first to whatever is nearest you, before passing it to another; for passing things around in camp is risky, and should be avoided as much as possible for that reason. Eat with your hats on, as it is more comfortable, and the wind is not so apt to blow your stray hairs into the next man's dish. If you have no fork, do not mind eating with your knife and fingers. But, however much liberty you take, do not be rude, coarse, or uncivil: these bad habits grow rapidly in camp if you encourage them, and are broken off with difficulty on return. If there is no separate knife for the butter, cheese, and meat, nor spoon for the gravy and soup, you can use your own by first wiping the knife or spoon upon a piece of bread. Be social and agreeable to all fellow-travellers you meet. It is a received rule now, I believe, that you are under no obligations to consider travelling-acquaintances as permanent: so you are in duty bound to be friendly to all thrown in your way. However, it is not fair to thrust your company upon others, nor compel a courtesy from any one. Try to remember too, that it is nothing wonderful to camp out or walk; and do [Pg 98]not expect any one to think it is. We frequently meet parties of young folks walking through the mountains, who do great things with their tongues, but not much with their feet. If you will refrain from bragging, you can speak of your short marches without exciting contempt. Avoid as much as possible asking another member of the party to do your work, or to wait upon you: it is surprising how easily you can make yourself disliked by asking a few trifling favors of one who is tired and hungry. <h3>MOSQUITOES, BLACK FLIES, AND MIDGE.</h3> These pests will annoy you exceedingly almost everywhere in the summer. In the daytime motion and perspiration keep them off to some extent. At night, or when lying down, you can do no better than to cover yourself so that they cannot reach your body, and have a mosquito-bar of some sort over your head. The simplest thing is a square yard of mosquito-netting thrown over the head, and tucked in well. You will need to have your hat first thrown over the head, and your shirt-collar turned up, to prevent the mosquitoes reaching through the mesh to your face and neck. A better way than this is to make a box-shaped mosquito-bar, large enough to stretch across the head of the bed, and cover the heads and shoul[Pg 99]ders of all that sleep in the tent. It should be six or eight feet long, twenty to twenty-six inches wide, and one yard or more high. It will be more durable, but not quite so well ventilated, if the top is made of light cloth instead of netting. The seams should be bound with stout tape, and the sides and ends "gathered" considerably in sewing them to the top. Even then the side that falls over the shoulders of the sleepers may not be loose enough to fill the hollows between them; the netting will then have to be tucked under the blanket, or have something thrown over its lower edge. Sew loops or strings on the four upper corners, and corresponding loops or strings on the tent, so that you can tie up the bar. Bobbinet lace is better than the common netting for all of these purposes. It comes in pieces twelve to fourteen yards long, and two yards wide. You cannot often find it for sale; but the large shops in the principal cities that do a great business by correspondence can send it to you. Oil of cedar and oil of pennyroyal are recommended as serviceable in driving off mosquitoes, and there are patented compounds whose labels pretend great things: you will try them only once, I think. Ammoniated opodeldoc rubbed upon the bites [Pg 100]will in a great measure stop the itching, and hasten the cure. They say that a little gunpowder flashed in the tent will drive out flies and mosquitoes. I saw a man try it once, but noticed that he himself went out in a great hurry, while the flies, if they went at all, were back again before he was. A better thing, really the best, is a smudge made by building a small fire to the windward of your tent, and nearly smothering it with chips, moss, bark, or rotten wood. If you make the smudge in an old pan or pot, you can move it about as often as the wind changes. <h3>HOW TO SKIN FISH.</h3> When you camp by the seaside, you will catch cunners and other fish that need skinning. Let no one persuade you to slash the back fins out with a single stroke, as you would whittle a stick; but take a sharp knife, cut on both sides of the fin, and then pull out the whole of it from head to tail, and thus save the trouble that a hundred little bones will make if left in. After cutting the skin on the under side from head to tail, and taking out the entrails and small fins, start the skin where the head joins the body, and pull it off one side at a time. Some men stick an awl through a cunner's head, or catch it fast in a stout iron hook, to hold it while skinning.[Pg 101] Cunners and lobsters are sometimes caught off bold rocks in a net. You can make one easily out of a hogshead-hoop, and twine stretched across so as to make a three-inch mesh.[25] Tie a lot of bait securely in the middle, sink it for a few minutes, and draw up rapidly. The rush of water through the net prevents the fish from escaping. <h3>EXPENSES.</h3> The expenses of camping or walking vary greatly, of course, according to the route, manner of going, and other things. The principal items are railroad-tickets, horse and wagon hire, trucking, land-rent (if you camp where rent is charged), and the cost of the outfit. You ought to be able to reckon very nearly what you will have to pay on account of these before you spend a cent. After this will come the calculation whether to travel at all by rail, supposing you wish to go a hundred miles to reach the seaside where you propose to camp, or the mountains you want to climb. If you have a horse and wagon, or are going horseback, it will doubtless be cheaper to march than to ride and pay freight. If time is plenty and money is [Pg 102]scarce, you may perhaps be able to walk the distance cheaper than to go by rail; but, if you lodge at hotels, you will find it considerably more expensive. The question then is apt to turn on whether the hundred miles is worth seeing, and whether it is so thickly settled as to prevent your camping. To walk a hundred miles, carrying your kit all the way, will take from one to two weeks, according to your age, strength, and the weather. We have already stated that there is little pleasure in walking more than sixty miles a week. But if you wish to go as fast as you can, and have taken pains to practise walking before starting, and can buy your food in small quantities daily, and can otherwise reduce your baggage, you can make the hundred miles in a week without difficulty, and more if it is necessary, unless there is much bad weather. The expense for food will also vary according to one's will; but it need not be heavy if you can content yourself with simple fare. You can hardly live at a cheaper rate than the following:— <h3>ONE WEEK'S SUPPLY FOR TWO MEN.</h3> Ten pounds of pilot-bread; eight pounds of salt pork; one pound of coffee (roasted and ground); one to two pounds of sugar (granu[Pg 103]lated); thirty pounds of potatoes (half a bushel).[26] A little beef and butter, and a few ginger-snaps, will be good investments. Supposing you and I were to start from home in the morning after breakfast; when noon comes, we eat the lunch we have taken with us, and press on. As the end of the day's march approaches, we look out to buy two quarts of potatoes at a farmhouse or store; and we boil or fry, or boil and mash in milk, enough of these for our supper. The breakfast next morning is much the same. We cook potatoes in every way we know, and eat the whole of our stock remaining, thus saving so much weight to carry. We also soak some pilot-bread, and fry that for a dessert, eating a little sugar on it if we can spare it. When dinner-time approaches, we keep a lookout for a chance to buy ten or twelve cents' worth of bread or biscuits. These are more palatable than the pilot-bread or crackers in our haversack. If we have a potato left from breakfast, we cook and eat it now. We cut off a slice of the corned beef, and take a nibble at the ginger-snaps. If we think we can afford three or four cents more, we buy a pint of milk, [Pg 104]and make a little dip-toast. And so we go; sometimes we catch a fish, or pass an orchard whose owner gives us all the windfalls we want. We pick berries too; and keep a sharp lookout that we supply ourselves in season when our pilot-bread, sugar, pork, and butter run low. Some days we overtake farmers driving ox-carts or wagons; we throw our kits aboard, and walk slowly along, willing to lose a little time to save our aching shoulders. And in due time, if no accident befalls, nor rainy weather detains us, we arrive at our seashore or mountain. You may like to know that this is almost an exact history, at least as far as eating is concerned, of a twelve days' tramp I once went on in company with two other boys. There was about five dollars in the party, and nearly two dollars of this was spent in paying toll on a boat that we took through a canal a part of the way. We carried coffee, sugar, pork, and beef from home, and ate potatoes three times a day. We had a delightful time, and came home fattened up somewhat; but I will admit that I did not call for potatoes when I got back to my father's table, for some days. In general, however, it will be noticed that those who camp out for the season, or go on walking-tours, do so at a moderate expense [Pg 105]because they start with the determination to make it cheap. For this purpose they content themselves with old clothes, which they fit over or repair, take cooking-utensils from their own kitchen, and, excepting in the matter of canned foods, do not live very differently from what they do at home. Nearly all the parties of boys that I have questioned spend all the money they have, be it little or much. Generally those I have met walking or camping seem to be impressed with the magnitude of their operations, and to be carrying constantly with them the determination to spend their funds sparingly enough to reach home without begging. It is not bad practice for a young man. Here I wish to say a word to parents—having been a boy myself, and being now a father. Let your boys go when summer comes; put them to their wits; do not let them be extravagant, nor have money to pay other men for working for them. It is far better for them to move about than to remain in one place all the time. The last, especially if the camp is near some place of public resort, tends to encourage idleness and dissipation. When you return home again from a tour of camping, and go back to a sedentary life, remember that you do not need to eat all that [Pg 106]your appetite calls for. You may make yourself sick if you go on eating such meals as you have been digesting in camp. You are apt also upon your return to feel as you did on the first and second days of your tour; this is especially liable to be the case if you have overworked yourself, or have not had enough sleep.[Pg 107] <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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