July 13, 1986 - Sunday (Part two)
Rain, rain go away. When you grow up and live in Wisconsin, you never really get used to the crappy weather that exists most of the year - even in the summer. You just learn to tolerate it. Well, camping with a group of guys all crammed into one small area for 7-10 days, was tolerance personified, especially when it rained all day and night during our trip.
We needed to be able to get away from each other for a while, and when we couldn’t, it was usually because of the rain. Most nights after the sun went down, the campfire became the TV set in the living room. Everyone pulled up a chair and sat and stared at the endless flames. Mark and I would sometimes play guitars or maybe the boombox would be on low, playing one of my mix tapes.
If we couldn’t do this one thing every night, we got a little frustrated and lot less tolerant of each other. I remember that whenever it got to that point, I just grabbed my sleeping bag and went to bed. None of us ever had the same sleeping patterns. Sleep was just an illusion. Curt was almost always the first one up early in the morning. Used to drive me nuts. He would be out there clanking dishes and trying to make breakfast as a passive-aggressive way to get the rest of us out of the camper.
By noon, we were all up and ready to head down to the beach. Even though we were hungover and wiped out, the beach was our one motivation to get moving - and that motivation was almost always in hopes of finding some young nubiles in bikinis who needed to have a few beers with us. We found them, or I should say - Joe and I found them most of the time. Not everyone is a drinker, and sometimes, we regretted bringing a few of those girls to our campsite. They’d never leave!
Door County 1986