Several months pass between our first camping trip and our second, while we let ankles and egos heal.
By the time we spend any other significant amount of time in the woods, the seasons have changed and things are much chillier than they were.
Have you ever seen the look of your entire family either questioning your judgement or outright accusing you of being an unmitigated moron?
If not, here's what it looks like:
Suffice it to say, those are not the faces of family members who appreciate what you've done to them.
Coincidentally, this is also the trip we learned three things.
First, we learned that air mattresses are the devil. This was our very last time sleeping on an air mattress, because it turns out that no matter how warmly you bundle up at night, your air mattress is a demon sent from the ice caves of Niflheim to rob you of everything keeping your frail body alive through the night.
Second, we learned that my wife will freeze to death long before I do, as I was perfectly comfortable during the night, while she was pondering her last will and testament.
Third, we learned that left to her own devices, Nisba will not only steal all the best blankets for herself, but also will cocoon herself inside a wool blanket and emerge only after the sun has come up, revealing that she was, in fact, the warmest one in the tent all along.
Over the rest of the winter season, we kept camping, slowly shifting from babbling idiots trying to survive through the night into reasonably competent idiots trying to survive through multiple nights. Good times were had by all, except for everyone that wasn't me.
And maybe Tula... she enjoyed at least part of it:
