Summers in the Sun

So the beautiful weather that I was greeted with when I got back on campus Sunday has got me itching for summer.  My friend and I were talking the other day about how funny it is that it’s on the days that it’s super nice outside that we realize just how annoying the cold can be.  It seems like we get used to it being cold and just accept that that’s how the weather works.  But, the great part is, it doesn’t. 

I’ve always enjoyed summer, I mean, what kid doesn’t (very few, that’s who), but it was a few years ago that summer got even better for me.  My family got a pontoon boat.

I never knew what I had been missing in my life by not having a boat.  I didn’t know what it was like to spend weekends on the lake, taking it easy and living on the edge all at the same time.

For the past three summers, I got to see what it was like, and I quickly fell in love.  Arkabutla lake is my summer home (unless, of course, they drain all of the water out, in which case Enid lake is my summer home), and it’s just the best way to spend my summer weekends.

Not only has spending time on the boat allowed me to actually get a bit of a tan (yes! A tan! A tan for this super white girl!), it has given me countless laughs.

And weekends on the lake wouldn’t be complete without spending the entire weekend out in nature courtesy of the great American pastime known as camping.  Except ours is done in a manner which does not include sleeping on the ground or using the bathroom in a hole.  Campers are where it is at.

So anyways, story time with Morgan.

There was this one time that my sister decided that she was the yoga master, and that the most appropriate location to hold a yoga class was while tubing.  So we had both of our tubes going behind the boat, with my sister on the small tube and my cousin and brother sharing the big tube.

My sister would perform a yoga move, and my cousin and brother would subsequently copy it.  The moves evolved into more difficult positions…and more even more bizarre names…but nonetheless, it was enjoyable to watch from the boat.

But tubes weren’t made with yoga class in mind.  They were made to ride the wake and soar over the waters, and that’s exactly what me and my cousin do.  He and I are the professionals of our lake troupe. 

We hop on the small tube, with me up front and him sitting behind.  When we go over the wake and are on smooth waters, he lifts up the side of the tube and we sling shot out, going farther and farther from the wake.  We glide like ice skaters, except cooler, because, you know, it just is.

We hang on through waves and bumps that would knock of the amateur rider easily.  We hang on through things that I still wonder how we did it.  We’ll get like, three or four feet of air, and then land like nothing happened.  It’s super cool how we just manage to land and balance just right.  It’s because we’re pros.

Tubing is super fun when you get to ride with someone who’s experiencing it for the first time.

I was on the tube with my best friend, and she was freaking out because this whole ordeal was just so scary.  We’re waiting for my dad to start the boat, and I’m telling her how it’s going to be so much fun.

My dad starts the boat, and we start moving. 

And that’s when the squealing starts.

We hadn’t even gotten up to speed yet.  We hadn’t even made it into the wake yet.  We weren’t even close to the scary part.  This was going to be a long ride.

And we start actually going, and she keeps squealing.  “Good golly,” I’m thinking.  “I’m going to die!” She’s thinking.

I’m not lying when I say she squealed the entire time.  But hey, I put up with it because I love her.

Me and another one of my friends enjoy composing raps while we’re tubing.  Classic white girls.  For reals though, it’s quality material.  I’m pretty sure we both remember it to this day.

It was with that same friend and our siblings that I made a fantastic movie which took place at the campground.  It was a movie filled with conflict, comedy, and fear, but I’m not allowed to tell people about it apparently.  So, I’m sorry.

This past summer I took two other friends, and the game became to see who fell off of their tube first, after which they would be considered the loser of the round.  It was the competition to see who was the biggest loser, except you didn’t want to be the biggest loser.

We would hang on for dear life to the tube, refusing to fall off.  I’m pretty sure at one point I was literally hanging off of the side of the tube, but I pulled myself back on it.  We made some miraculous saves.  But we also had some spectacular wipeouts.

Seeing as we only got a boat a few years ago, the past few summers have been learning experiences for me and my siblings as we learn how to do all of the various water activities.

One thing that not one of us three has conquered yet is water skiing.

We've tried to figure it out, but our learning experiences have also been learning experiences for those helping us.

It was my brother's turn to attempt to learn to water ski, and he was still smaller at the time, so then men of the boating adventure got out a training ski rope.  My brother held on to one end, and the rope went through a training bar attached to the skis with another handle on the end for someone to hold.  

So two of them got on the jet ski.  Our lake buddy drove, and my friends' dad sat on the back, watching my brother and holding his rope.

From what I can tell, this is how training ski ropes work:  The person on the watercraft holding the other end of the rope is really the one in charge.  Even if the person on the skis lets go, the rope is still attached to his/her skis, and as long as the spotter is hanging on to his/her end, the "skiing" continues (because at that point it's not really skiing).

So there they are, all set and ready to go.  Our friend guns the jet ski, and they go for a few seconds, and my brother doesn't get up, so he lets go of his rope.  However, our friend holding the rope did not let go.  

Physics was not on his side as the jet ski kept moving forward and he started moving in the opposite direction, flipping right off of the back of the jet ski.

"Do it again, Daddy!" My friend screamed to him when he got back on the jet ski.

Of course that wasn't the plan as they set up to try again.  The plan was to teach my brother to ski.  But physics once again was the victor, and off he flipped again, earning him the name, "Flipper."

What an unsuccessful yet entertaining ski lesson.  Moral of the story: don't let Flipper hold the training rope.

Watching people learn to relearn to ski is always entertaining for all of us.  We'll get people out on the boat that haven't skied in probably ten or more years, but apparently it's like riding a bike.  Once you know how to do it, you know how to forever.

But then you get people like my poor granddad, who, as hard as they try to pop up never succeed.  My mom and dad popped up like they've been doing it their whole lives.

And when I try to ski, I just end up being dragged behind the boat getting a face full of water.  Oh well.  Maybe I'll finally figure it out this summer.

And of course there’s the camping stories.

One night my two friends were staying with my family in our camper, and it was probably around 9:00, and we were having a nice time in the camper when we decided we wanted some s’mores.  I mean, who wouldn’t want classic camping food?  So we gather up the chocolate and graham crackers and marshmallows and roasting sticks and head out to the fire that we started four hours ago that is still clinging to life.

We’re just about to start roasting when up walk two raccoons.  As much as those raccoons wanted to join our roasting, we of course had to follow the arbitrary camping survival guide handbook, which we all know states the following:

“Wildlife of any kind, including squirrels, raccoons, deer, birds, rhinoceroses, kangaroos, and snakes, are not to be considered dinner guests, and especially not late night s’more time guests.”

And who were we to ignore that rule?

My friends, who were quite terrified by the fuzzy little things, quickly ran inside.  My mother went inside only to re-emerge holding some pots and pans, and the only obvious thing to do with those was to beat them uncontrollably, no doubt waking up the slumbering wildlife and the elderly couple in the camper next door. 

But never mind the consequences of beating kitchenware in the woods, for the raccoons went away.

And I stood there with my marshmallow and roasting stick saying, “I just want a s’more,” to which my mother responded with the suggestion to use the microwave inside the safety of the camper for my s’more making procedure.

And, in hindsight, that was a good solution, because now I don’t need a fire to have s’mores.

But I am a pro-fess-ional fire builder, as you probably would have guessed.

Fire building with Morgan!

1)      Gather wood.  This includes twigs, branches, sticks, and large chunks of trees more commonly referred to as “logs.”

2)      Also gather things like newspaper and leaves.  And a lighter.  Because I ain’t no boy scout.

3)      Attempt to build a little tepee thing out of the sticks like you see in every survival movie as a child.

4)      Sit back and admire your crude little tepee (assuming you actually got one to stand).

5)      Realize you didn’t put any kindling inside the tepee.

6)      Dissemble and reassemble the tepee with kindling inside (hint: kindling is newspaper and/or leaves).

7)      Place larger pieces of wood around it.  You’ll probably end up moving it when you realize how you really should have set up the fire

8)      Take your lighter, and after countless failed attempts, make a fire, out of the lighter that is.

9)      Take the lit lighter and light the newspaper and/or leaves on fire.

10)   Watch the newspaper and/or leaves disappear before your eyes before realizing that the actual wood did not catch on fire.

11)   Realize you’re out of newspaper.

12)   Get more leaves to find you cannot, in any circumstances, get those suckers to light.

13)   Scrounge for kindling.  Find Kleenexes in the camper.

14)   Succeed in lighting the Kleenexes on fire, and eventually get the actual wood on fire too.

15)   FEED THE FIRE MORE WOOD

16)   Make up the rest as you go along

But let me just say that I’m getting better at the whole fire thing.  It takes some time, but I can successfully get one going all by myself, and that’s super cool to me.  My goal for this summer is to at least get a spark by rubbing some sticks together.  We’ll see how that goes.

My family has lots of encounters with raccoons at the campsite now.  It’s not unusual for a raccoon to meander up by the fire, but I’ve learned to just let him do his thing, and he usual just keeps on trucking.

One time, though, a raccoon got on the boat during the night and ransacked the boat, even chewing through the rope that connected the boat to the tubes (yum, rope).

I’ve had quite the handful of super enjoyable experiences throughout the last few summers.

But the story that always takes the cake comes from my first summer on the lake.  Me and two friends were piled on top of our smallest tube.  To this day I still don’t understand how we all three fit.  Like, seriously.  It’s the Chihuahua of tubes.  I think how it really went was two of us on the actual tube, and one laying on top, hanging on to anything she could get a good grip on (yes, this included people).  But anyways, we had discussed earlier how when you’re at the lake and the urge to go suddenly hits you, your only real choice is just to jump in, tell everyone to swim away from you, and go. 

We all three piled on the tube, ready to start our ride.  We ended up two on the bottom and one on top, hanging on for dear life.  We were waiting for my dad to start the boat when my friend on top said,

“I need to pee!”

I answered, “well, we’re about to start.  So you’ll have to hold it and go in the lake when we get done.”

“Too late.”

“Did you just pee on me?!?!”

“Yeah…”

At that point, there wasn’t really much I could do.  My best friend peed on me.  That’s cool.  To this day when we tell someone the story, they look at us like we’re crazy.  I’m sure they’re thinking, “You peed on her?  And it’s not embarrassing for you the two of you to tell, like, everyone?”

That thought did cross my mind the first time she told the story.  But then I realized, hey, the best stories and memories are the ones that you should be ashamed to share, but you totally own up to them.

And besides, plenty of people can say, “Me and my best friend went tubing the other day.”  Not that many people can say, “My best friend peed on me when we went tubing the other day.”

So life is so much cooler after I discovered the amazingness that is the lake, and I’m so ready to go back.

Mo