Fathers and Sons Campout at Big Elk Creek

June 17th was the fathers and sons campout in our ward.  Eli and I have made a tradition of going on this campout since he was 12 months old.  That time was the first Fathers and Sons for both of us, so I may be compensating a little.  However, it is not that my father was not involved, but his idea of going on a fathers and sons campout was driving to San Diego or Mexico, staying in a condo, and spending a week on the beach, not to mention making a trip to the dog races and jai alai where we were involved in helping him place bets on the competitors.  I wouldn't trade it, but since Eli is so young and since a trip to San Diego for just him and me is out of the question, the fathers and sons will have to do. 

There is definitely a difference between camping with the whole family and a bunch of dads camping with their sons.  The difference is the lack of mothers.  I will explain further, but I must confess that I fear I may be breaking some secret or unspoken law that I am unaware of within the fraternity of fathers and sons campout traditions.  If I go missing after submitting this post, I must have revealed too much.  Anyway, you would not think that the lack of mothers would make a big difference when it comes to camping, but I did notice that there was a much more relaxed mood at the event.  The camp was adorned with a roaring creek nearby, a large fire burning, sharp jagged rocks to climb, thick brush to explore, and a kitchen with hot oil and burners cooking hamburgers, hot dogs, and fries.  I know for a fact that Courtney would have been constantly on her toes watching out for not only our kids, but everyone else's as well.  Same with all the other mothers.

But we were on vacation.  The men sat and enjoyed eachother's company and let the kids run loose and play around.  After going over some ground rules with Eli, he was off and running around with a few of his church posse ranging from 3 to 5 years old.  I kept a close eye on him by looking up every few minutes to find him and see what he was up to.  At one point I heard him call my name, DAD, (which spoken in his voice means me) at which time I turned my head and saw him at the top of a giant rock which he climbed under his own power unless the 5-year-old, Kolter, who was with him, pulled him up, highly unlikely. (See Exhibit 1)  Fighting the urge to be utterly proud and brag about my sons achievement, I modestly praised him, then I calmly turned in my chair and exerted much energy in asking one of the young men in our ward to help guide him down.  Then I resumed my conversation.  Once down, I explained to Eli that he must not go up there without my permission and help.  After 2 more times of this sequence, he finally started asking to climb the rock.  That was just one of many common experiences that contributed to the fun of the fathers and sons. 

Exhibit 1:  Eli and Kolter atop the giant rock about 20-25 feet high by my estimation (which is commonly incorrect)

Exhibit 2:  The candycane plant we discovered.  Must have been leftover from Christmas.

Exhibit 3: Eli hanging out on a rock with Mason, a 3-year-old member of the posse

Exhibit 4:  Eli showing his enthusiasm 10 minutes into our drive up to the campout.  This was when I gave him my annual birds and bees lecture.  You have to start them early you know.  

All in all, we had a great time.  I did spend a lot of time with Eli and we did more activities of which I have no photos, another byproduct of not having mom there.  One of our favorite things was climbing the nearby mountain to a set of giant boulders and resting there.  It was a very steep climb, and I did most of the climbing while dragging Eli up behind me.  Going down was much easier as I just sat Eli on the straight path down the mountain and let him slide down behind me.  He loved it.  On the way home we fished, stopped at the Palisades dam to look around, and stopped for square ice cream.  He chose bubble gum ice cream.  It was a lot of fun, and we returned home exhausted.