Don’t Eat Deet - July 2020

“Man, it sucks that you ate Deet!” Wifey said. “I’m really sorry.”   

“It’s okay. I haven’t spent that much time on the toilet since the romaine-lettuce-ecoli thing about two years ago.”

Wifey shakes her head and says, “Note to self, shower after Deet.”

“Agreed. And I’ll remember to not nibble your neck when we’re fresh off the trail.”

“Oh, I like it when you nibble my neck.”

“I’m not saying that I’ll forgo nibbling altogether, I’ll just be more, well… selective.” 

            I thought I’d lighten the mood with this column and just focus on some non-political, non-Covid misadventures that our family has stumbled upon over the past month or so.

            We were all super excited when I scored a “golden ticket” for the 4 of us to go backcountry camping in Tuolumne Meadows just a few days after Tioga Pass had opened. I had delusional visions of doing epic multi-pitch climbs with my two kiddos and wife in tow and then sneaking back to our campsite each night.

            Of course, the stars didn’t quite align to my expectations. 

            “Dad, I hate climbing!” Jane exclaimed while tied into the anchor bolts just past the amazing detached “Hermaphrodite Flake” on Stately Pleasure Dome.

            “You liked doing this sort of thing last year.”

            “I never want to go climbing again!” Jane shrieked.

            Wifey looked at me and shrugged. “Maybe we should just rap off.”

            I consented and rigged the rappel. Which ironically Jane really enjoyed and perhaps was the reason she felt like she could climb again the next day. 

            We made our way up Murphy Creek later that afternoon and found a secluded and sublime little spot on a granite shoulder with water gurgling in the background. Jane and Michael excitedly set up the “kitchen” and the “bathroom” while we pitched the tent and hooked up our water filter and hammocks. It was magical like only Yosemite can be.

            We had fun adventures in Tuolumne and in the main Yosemite Valley over the next few days, but unfortunately our trip seemed to coincide with a biblically proportioned hatching of our least favorite animal, the mosquito.         

            “Ah, remind me to hold it next time,” I exclaim as I get back to camp.

            “What happened?” Michael asked.

            “I had to swat a mosquito on my… you know, while I was going… you know.”

            “Ouch. It bit you on the balls?” Michael empathizes with me. “What purpose do mosquitos even serve?”  

            We ended up looking that one up when we got home, mosquitos are food for fish, birds, frogs, and other animals in case you are wondering. At least my discomfort could be a teachable moment for our kiddos.

            Besides a little Yosemite trip, we hosted Wifey’s sister and her family from Gilroy a couple weeks ago. One of the highlights of their visit was a “boat race” in the meadow for the kids down a long lazy bend in the Upper Truckee river.  

            Jane and Michael and their 3 cousins spent hours decorating and hot gluing their plastic-bottle-popsicle-stick-and-duct-tape boat creations. Jane’s vessel had a Cinderella figurine proudly hot glued to its prow, which, when set in water, quickly flipped over making Cinderella a much better rudder than hood ornament.

            On the day of the big race, I waded into the stream with the 5 boats and a long paddle to keep the start of the race even. We all watched from the bank and counted down for the big release.

            “Ten, nine, eight, seven…. Go!” I lifted the paddle and let the current take the boats. “And they’re off.”

            We watched as the five boats started making their way downstream a lot slower than any of us anticipated. Almost immediately boats got caught in downed trees or backwater eddies. At first we just gave only Michael permission to get in the water and fix any stuck boats, but after many protests from the other children and calls of “that’s not fair!” and “What about my boat?” We finally consented to let all the kids hop in. This would have been fine if we had planned for it and dressed everyone appropriately, but instead our children basically had to shed their clothing and get into the river wearing close to nothing.

            The boats were also beginning to look a whole lot less like they had just a few minutes before. Each time one got stuck and subsequently retrieved, it would be tossed as far as that kid could throw further downstream. The result was that I ended up basically picking up all the discarded pieces behind them.

            At some point close to the established “finish line” a kayaker came paddling by. His eyes grew wide as he watched the naked kids chasing trash down the river while their parents took pictures and shouted encouragement from the shore.

            Simple memories and laughter like these are available even when the world seems turned upside down. They just take some willingness to get outside, be creative, put up with some mosquito bites, and laugh at yourself. Ultimately, I want my children to remember this strange time in their lives not for all the things they couldn’t do, but for the silly and simple things that we did do.