SC - OED? -OT

[Laura C. Minnick]

Ladies and Gentleman, I think that I have just experienced the worst event 
I've ever had the pleasure to camp at! 

Friday, after three weeks of preparation for a cold and possibly wet weekend 
war, I left in great glee for Sourthern Crusade in the Kingdom of Atenveldt, 
in what I believe is Mons Trinitrus (not sure if spelled correctly), 
otherwise known as the little town of Sonoita outside Sierra Vista, Arizona, 
at the foot of the mountains. A lovely location; held same place last year, 
but this year a month later than last year.

It rained all the way up the mountain path. My car exploded contents onto the 
road from the roof, twice. The weather got grey, dark, and strangely Seattle 
looking for a desert town. The site was already muddy, the wind beginning to 
whip up. As soon as we parked and trotted to our site, the sky ripped apart 
and it felt like God was trying to recreate the reason for the Ark all over 
again. Several Viking types fell to their knees and asked Odin why he would 
do such a thing. Tents were errected in the rain. The kitchen pavillion went 
up, the stoves were lit. Because we were renting tables and chairs--and had 
not yet gone back for them--we cooked on the ground, in the mud, and threw 
all the gear into the one dry tent. Others in the party were attempting to 
dry out with towels the remaining tents, prior to moving into them. The wind 
got stronger. Ice mixed into the rain and Arizona got a taste of real 
sleet....amazing stuff to a desert rat. And then hail. Which hurts on 
unshielded heads trying desparately to keep tarps from flying off into the 
mountains.  We had taken our dogs with us: a small lap dog, and an Egyptian 
Greyhound. EG's have no layering of fur; she began to shiver as the 
temperature dropped. A couple in our house had brought their kids to their 
first event. Heavy clothes had been made in anticipation of keeping them 
dry--but two year olds have problems keeping any clothes on, we found one 
playing in a puddle naked as day he was born, except his socks. He liked his 
socks. After warming him up and stashing him with bodyguards in the family 
tent, we went back to tarping the tents against the ever falling rain, and 
trying to figure out what to do about the kitchen pavilion. It's a pretty 
thing, but no sides, and the food boxes were beginning to get wet as the rain 
slanted to find them. I kept telling myself it had to get better, these 
things always do. 

At 10:00 pm, what was supposed to be a hunter stew was served. The cook 
informed me that the food boxes with the dinner ration had gone missing. 
Probably hiding in a tent from the rain (we had 8 in the party) and that she 
had thrown together what she could creatively to feed frostbit fingers and 
toes, as well as the bodies that went with them. Brewed coffee, with 
chocolate to make it more energizing; French bread toasted in olive oil and 
spices; a soup made from tomato juice (really?) and chunks of lunchmeat, and 
onions, and something green (she thought it was celery--we were lacking in 
light) and tasted spices in unmarked jars that she thought were paprika and 
maybe a beef rub mixture with chili powder....  My God I've never tasted 
anything so wonderful in my life in my mouth as that stuff. Warmed me down to 
my toes. Then she told me the chocolate coffee had been laced with liquour: 
instant liquid cloak. Yum. We decided that we would brave the camp hopping in 
the am when the weather cleared, and pick up tables/chairs then.

But it didn't work out that way. The wind kept howling. By 4am we had lost 
three tents, the pavillion cover for the kitchen, my kids were sleeping in 
the car, and my own tent had over two inches of water around the mattress. 
Two hours later, at dawn, the dogs began a howl. They joined the boys in the 
car; too cold to walk, we carried them. The radio we had said the weather had 
dropped to 20 degrees and snow was expected if the rain let up long enough. 
In Arizona? At 6:45am the 2 year old began a strange howling cry. Almost 
feral. Was he mimicing the dogs? Bottles didn't seem to help, and mommy said 
she would stay in the tent with him till he quieted. Daddy and older son (4) 
agreed to stay in tent and see if they could entertain him into quiet; maybe 
get some sleep. 8 am the 2 year old stopped crying, the 4 year old started. 
Cold, wet? We were warming water for another bottle when mom staggered from 
the tent clutching the 2 year old, announced she didn't feel right and 
collapsed. My EMT husband rushed to her side. The baby was listless. We 
rushed them offsite to the firestation and oxygen. All 4. Carbon Monoxide 
Poisioning. After they rallied we let them be transported to Sierra Vista 
Hospital and oxygen tents. 4 hours later the boys were arguing over crayons 
as if nothing had happened, surrounded by transparent plastic. 
We took the hint, and dropped camp, headed back for town. When our friends 
were discharged this evening, we went back for them and brought them home. 
All of us pleased to have survived and all stating we were no worse for 
wear--them most of all. Accidents happen. Even faulty tent heaters. It rained 
all the way up and back to get them from hospital.

Now--and this is the kicker. None of us are upset over this event having 
ended like this. We went, we tried. We figure we are not as yet prepared for 
these kinds of wet wars like the historic figures we are trying to recreate. 
And we learned some important lessons. What's more, since we have already 
paid for three days, we are going back tomorrow--at least us women--to hit 
merchant row.

Now, how well adjusted can we all be?

My only upset about it all was that I missed--and never got to talk 
to--Stephan of the Close to tell him why I wouldn't be at the Combat Cookery 
Contest. I hope the Chirugeon told him for us like asked. If not, I'll 
appologize when I see him. But Holly, our cook, said we already had our 
Combat Cook Contest; and we lost.

Lars :)