As I got older, camping was a little less fun and a lot more challenging. Here I am washing my hair with a bucket of water to the side of our camp spot. In those days, Oregon campgrounds had no amenities. No running water, no chopped firewood, no outhouses. We hauled water from a rapidly flowing stream. My father chopped up dead trees. We dug latrines off in the woods. There were no designated camp spots either; we just set up near the lake and not too close to anyone else. For my 16 year old self, it was getting old.
Clearly I was still worried about my appearance, at least enough to wash my hair, despite the fact that no one I knew was around. However, this is some outfit! Cutoff jeans with knee socks with my tank bathing suit and red Keds.
Activities at the lake that used to intrigue me now were bo-r-r-r-ing. The little camp store(really just a person renting rowboats and selling Hershey’s candy bars) lacked interest. I was able to rent a rowboat, row myself out to the middle of the lake, hunker down on the floor of the boat and be alone. As I recall, being alone when I was 16 was preferable to being with my younger siblings.
I longed for easier accommodations. Hotel anyone?