How to Camp for Thanksgiving

Many folks in the past have politely asked about my plans for Thanksgiving, thinking I'll answer somewhere along the lines of, "having a big dinner at my parents' house" or "going to Grandma's" or something similar. However, my answer this year was the same as it is every year: Camping. And each time, those polite questioners return with a puzzled look and a surprised, "Oh?"

In honor of such responses, friends, I will now give you an in-depth look at what our Thanksgiving camping trip really was like, so that you will no longer have to endure that awkward exchange.


This year, we went to Kolomoki State Park in Georgia. Now, this was not a new park for us--in fact we have been there many years in the past because of the relatively short driving distance. But we'd given up on it before because they had closed down our favorite camping spots there in favor of the typical gravel-lot-RV-trailer-park spots that the Georgia park system seems to love so much (I'll never understand why). The difference this year, was that we stumbled upon the availability of the Pioneer Camping there. Now people, please--I'm only telling you this because you're my friends and you'll never tell the rest of the world--so don't let me down on this. This camping spot was AWESOME. There, I said it. (Now it better be available next year, or I'm holding you accountable.)

This place was off by itself at the back of the park. It was invisible from roads, tourists, and wide-screen tv's. Big enough to fill with twenty tents, we didn't have to share it with anyone. It was surrounded by thick woods and tall autumn grasses.

Sheer bliss.
We arrived on Wednesday afternoon. Attendees were: me, Seth, the girls, my parents, my two little sisters (Tobianna and Tabitha), my brother (Tyler), and Seth's brother (Mark). Oh, and don't forget my mom's dogs (Riley and Bailey), and Mark's dog (Buck). Usually, my older sister and her gang come also, but couldn't this year.

The first things to do upon arriving are: find a good sunny level spot for the tent, set up the tent, set up some chairs, play the harmonica, and build a fire. Noodle took care of her part.

And Seth took care of his part.

Fires are very important to Thanksgiving camping because, a. it's cold this time of year, b. we cook a large part of our meals on them, and c. sitting around them is the majority of the entertainment!

Another thing I love about this place is that there's always plenty of wood around for the taking, and they don't mind you taking it! As long as you're willing to put in some elbow grease.

My parents arrived after dark, which is no big deal for a regular Thanksgiving trip, but for Thanksgiving Camping, it is no fun. It means finding your way through the winding wilderness in the dark. It means setting up camp in the dark. It means setting up the tent in the dark. Mom and Dad have a fairly new tent that requires an engineering degree to understand the set-up instructions, so this added even more fun to the, um, fun.

Thursday morning, after a big breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon, I set out with my camera to see if I could shoot a turkey. Get it? Shoot? Ha ha ha... ahem. Anyway, there are turkeys wandering around in the great outdoors. For all you city people, a turkey is that animal you traditionally eat on Thanksgiving. Just in case you were wondering. Well, I didn't see a turkey. But I did find their tracks.
They were big, and they were everywhere.

And then I found this. Can you name the four prints in this photo?


By mid-afternoon it was time to start cooking the feast. Many people have asked me (after the initial blank stares and quizzical looks) how it's possible to cook a Thanksgiving meal while camping. Well, for starters, the first celebrators of this holiday were able to do it quite easily, and they didn't even have Coleman stoves and cheese graters. However, I do have to say that we don't attempt to bake a turkey. Ever. Only in the last few years, have we even had a turkey present (jokes aside about my brother), and those are pre-cooked smoked turkeys courtesy of the Publix meat department. (The turkey part came along because of more meat-eaters being added to our family of mostly vegetarians.) But, we do plenty of cooking. My dad brings his propane fish fryer and whips up some tasty fried catfish. We bake green bean casserole and broccoli-cheese casserole over the fire. We also had sweet potatoes, butter beans and several kinds of pie. I won't get in too deep about how everything is cooked, but I do promise to give you a step-by-step on how to make my famous broccoli-cheese casserole in my next post. Not only that, but how to do it over a campfire.

After a day of eating, the next day was a day of less eating and more activity. It has become a bit of a tradition whenever we are at Kolomoki, to go and visit the mounds on Black Friday. (Incidentally, I never shop on Black Friday because I'm always in the woods... And even if I wasn't, I hate standing in line. But I digress...) The park is dotted with native burial and ceremonial mounds which provide the basis for its existence as a state park. And even though we've seen them before, we always enjoy the tradition.


This is the largest mound.

The kids all zipped up the steps first.
"Hey all you grown-ups, get up here and help me with these crazy children!"


Oh.... Right.


Girls on top of the mountain! (as Tobi calls it)
Dad and I like reading the historical information on the signs posted around the park.





Then, we went for a short hike on a one-mile loop during which:

• Tyler stayed behind and took a nap near one of the mounds. He got poked at with sticks by strange children who thought he was dead.


• Tobianna made every attempt to keep me from taking a picture of her and used the word "Why?" in every sentence.


• Hopers was cranky, tired, hungry, dirty, and boogery. Therefore, she had to be carried for nine-tenths of the mile.

You may not see it in this picture, but Hopers is actually covered in a layer of scum approximately 22 mm. in depth. All of the children were. For them, this level of dirtiness was a badge equivilent to how much fun they'd been having. And it was nearly impossible for them to have more fun. They played til they dropped. Then they got up at the crack of dawn and played some more. They dug in the dirt. They played house in the little tent we set up for them. Mostly they stayed in their cage.
Just kidding! This was a pen for the dogs that the kiddos thought made a nifty play area.


The site had running water, but no showers or electricity, so the idea of dragging the girls down to the main campground for a shower every day seemed tiresome when they were just going to get completely filthy within five nanoseconds of being clean. It just didn't matter that much, because in the woods, there are no couches to stain or walls to make fingerprints on. One day, those cute faces will be clean again, but for now, let them be happy and crusty, we said to ourselves.


We did have a bathroom, however. Er, I mean, an outhouse. It was down a little path around the back side of our camp area. Very convenient, relatively speaking, considering the alternatives--digging a hole in the woods or driving to the nearest potty.

I didn't mind it at all during the daylight hours. But for some reason at night I couldn't bring myself to walk down that dark path to the quiet little shack in the middle of nowhere. In my brain, it became very scary and looked more like this:

Especially after discussions of horror movies and bears.

No thanks. I'll find a tree.


But, other than the shack where that creature from The Ring was going to get me, I really loved the evenings. Really! The stars were brilliant and the sky fascinating. We watched satellites and shooting stars pass above us. The air was cold, dipping into the 30's at its lowest, so we built roaring fires and toasted marshmallows and talked for hours. The kids were snuggled in their sleeping bags and blankets, kept warm by their layers of pajamas and dirt, dreaming of the mud pies they'd make in the morning.

It was wonderful. And now you know what Thanksgiving camping is like. And you can nod your head in understanding when I tell you what my plans are next year.


Hopefully, I'll have all this dirty laundry done by then.