Senior Car Campers defy ‘Julian’
At least twice a month, a group who look too old for adventure pack into their vehicles tents, cots, air mattresses, stoves and kitchenware, food to feed a herd – and drive out to a campsite hours away from their comfortable homes.
There, they unload the stuff and set up tents, open awnings attached to vehicles, unfold tables and chairs, and clear space for a kitchen. In an hour, fully-furnished shelters stand under trees, beside a river, or just under the clear blue sky.
The motions of these people are nothing new at a campsite. Except that this group is composed of senior citizens, most of them couples. They do all that by themselves without adult children, household staff or campsite assistants. In fact, many of them have become adept in setting up camping gear so fast, they move on to help the others assemble complicated gear.
Soon, a flag flies over a high pole — meticulously erected to withstand the winds and gravity — that proclaims ‘Senior Car Campers Plus’. The “plus” is for the not-yet-senior members who have joined the group simply because they regularly go camping – oftentimes twice or three times a month!
“Rain or shine, or “Come hell or high water” are sayings that best describe how the Senior Campers live the outdoor life. No weather disturbance advisory, except if the campsite declares it is “closed” for the day, can change their plans. In the weekend of Sept. 28-30 when super typhoon Julian barreled toward Northern Luzon, the campers were celebrating their second anniversary at River Ranch in Tanay. The winds howled and pushed the rains into the gazebo where they had huddled for their meals and games.
Defining the real meaning of “raining cats and dogs,” Julian tested the meaning of adventure, the waterproof element of tents and jackets, and the skills of the seniors. Did they tie the ropes securing their tents to the ground properly? Were the pegs hammered deep into the ground to hold on against the winds?
Nature was merciless in testing the senior campers that day, extending deep into the night and early morning. (At nearly midnight, I had to transfer to the gazebo because water had entered the tent and I had run out of towels to soak up the water.)
And yet, the celebration went on and on. Games brought the delight of the good old days, raffle prizes kept on coming because friends of friends sent merchandize, laughter from jokes heard before crackled, food from a dozen tent kitchens decked the table — definitely a celebration of the good life!
“Didn’t anyone suggest that you go home?” — my daughter asked when I related my experience the next day. I was speechless. Breaking camp and going home because of the storm had never crossed my mind, as I’m sure no one among the senior campers ever thought of that.
To all of us, a typhoon is part of nature and if it blows while we are at camp, we get out of its way by securing ourselves from the river or landslide-prone areas. And yes, by tying our tents and awnings more tightly, and relieving the pressure of rainwater from the tent roofs.
A now popular story among them is that trip when they had to very hastily break camp at the river bank of a campsite at 9 p.m. because the river water had risen due to the heavy rains. Throwing all gear at the back of their pickup trucks, they drove to higher ground and slept in their vehicles — still wet from the rain! No one complained; no one caught a cold.
