A Camping Tale
Why Wet Firewood and Marshmallows Don’t Mix (But Scotch Helps)
Ah, camping during the COVID-19 era—a magical time when the government said, “Go outside, but don’t talk to anyone!” For my family, camping has always been our great escape from the city grind. So, when restrictions finally lifted, we eagerly booked a weekend getaway to our favorite local campground Rideau River Provincial Park, ready to trade Netflix marathons for hiking, fishing, and the sweet smell of marshmallows roasting over a campfire.
Little did we know, this trip would turn into an epic battle of family vs. swamp wood.
Packing, Planning, and Dreaming of S’mores
The planning process was a flurry of excitement. Everyone in the family was buzzing—my son envisioned himself as the grill master, my spouse dreamed of walking serenely wooded trails , and I just wanted to sit around a roaring fire with a toasted marshmallow in one hand and a beverage in the other.
When the big day arrived, we loaded up the truck and trailer, checked the weather forecast (cold enough to justify a roaring fire), and set off. At check-in, we grabbed several bags of firewood because, obviously, a camping trip without a campfire is just a picnic with extra steps.
The Campfire That Couldn’t
After my son grilled his signature burgers—complete with a flourish of his imaginary chef’s hat—it was time to light the campfire. The temperature was dropping faster than my patience at a PTA meeting, and we were eager to get those marshmallows roasting.
My son, a scout/pyromaniac, meticulously constructed a picture-perfect log cabin . Large logs at the bottom, smaller twigs at the top, and crumpled newspaper tucked in like fluffy kindling pillows. He clicked the lighter, and voilà! A spark of hope drowned in despair, it seemed our firewood had other plans, and we didn’t get the memo.
The Battle of the Swamp Logs
Despite our best and pertinacious efforts, the fire fizzled and fazzled. More paper? Sure! twigs? YES please! But those logs? They were mulish and scoffed at our tenacity. That’s when I remembered Papper’s old trick: gasoline. Back in the day, he’d dump a gallon on a brush pile, toss in a match, and watch the inferno roar to life. But with gas prices in 2020 making caviar affordable, I wasn’t about to waste it on soggy campfire wood.
In desperation, I scoured the trailer for reinforcements. Propane? Too explosive. Scotch? That’s a negative. Then, tucked away in a storage bin, I struck gold: a bottle of Royal Oak lighter fluid used to start charcoal BBQs.
With triumphant glee I swooshed lighter fluid onto the smoldering wood. Flames flared dramatically, only to die down once the fluid burned off. It was like watching a campfire-themed soap opera—high drama followed by poor plot line . Then, we noticed the problem: water. The logs were so wet they could’ve doubled as pool noodles.
Determined, I kept squirting lighter fluid and sipping scotch to warm up from the inside out. Eventually, the fire caught. But as we huddled around, we noticed an odd sight: water bubbling out of the logs accompanied by sizzle. Yep, we’d apparently bought the soggiest firewood this side of the Everglades.
Victory. Marshmallows were roasted, s’mores were devoured, and we ended the night feeling like we’d conquered a small, damp corner of the wilderness.
The Great Swamp Log Redemption
The next evening brought more cold and—unfortunately—the same damp firewood. Thinking ahead, we put some of our logs on the grate over the campfire the night before to dry them out a bit. So when we repeated the entire saga, now seasoned veterans of swamp log warfare, it was a bit easier the second time around. Just as we got our fire going, my son came running over, wide-eyed and electric .
Turns out, he’d befriended a kid whose family was struggling to start their own campfire. These folks were really roughing it and absolute newbies , and were depending on a fire to cook dinner. My son, self-appointed Fire Starter Extraordinaire, sprang into action. Armed with our extra dry wood, some newspaper, and a splash of Royal Oak, he taught his new friend the fine art of fire-building.
By the time he was done, their fire was blazing, and he was hailed as the “Campfire King” of the weekend. It was a small gesture, but it warmed more than just their dinner—it warmed our hearts, too.
They succeeded, and that family ate a hot meal thanks to my son’s pyro-prowess. He returned to our campsite beaming, declaring himself the “King of Campfires.”
Lessons Learned (and Logs Left Behind)
The rest of the trip was a blur of bike rides, hikes, and pancake breakfasts. We left the remaining swamp wood at the site for the next campers—an act of charity or a cruel joke, depending on your perspective. As we drove home, slightly smoky and smelling like lighter fluid, we reflected on what we’d learned:
- Always check the firewood before buying. If it feels like it just got back from snorkeling, skip it.
- Keep backup fire starters on hand. Whether it’s lighter fluid, a blowtorch, or sheer determination, you’ll thank yourself later.
- Scotch pairs well with both frustration and victory.
Your Turn: Share Your Campfire Fails!
What’s your most hilarious camping mishap? Ever wrestle with wet firewood or discover a new use for lighter fluid? Share your stories in the comments below—we could all use a laugh (and maybe some tips). Don’t forget to share this post with your fellow campers. Who knows? It might just save someone from a soggy wood saga of their own.
