Whoever started that dirty rumor that all lesbians love camping [and are good at it] was completely wrong. When one of my best friends called me up to invite me camping in Yosemite for four days, two things came to mind. I thought first, I’m 19 years old and still have not set foot in a tent. And second, I’m a lesbian; word on the street is that I’m supposed to be a natural at this sort of thing. This was my time to shine.
Let’s just start with my packing process. My suitcase consisted of about 8 packaged white shirts that I was willing to part with if they got dirty [and believe me, they did]. I brought no shorts, just a pair of thick denim jeans and a pair of beloved green corduroy pants that when I roll them up, make me look like Huck Finn. I brought a can of bug spray, a travel first aid kit, enough socks to cloth a small third world country, and pink paper plates. Because really, white just isn’t classy enough for the woods.
When we arrived at the campgrounds I was delighted to hear that there were proper showering and bathing facilities just up the road. There was also an air-conditioned “club house” and a swimming pool complete with nearby fire pit. This wasn’t camping – this was paradise! Andrew took the tent accoutrements and I attempted to help him pitch our new home. As it turned out, our new home was about the size and shape of a small igloo and was only fit to accommodate two very small children – certainly not two full sized people.
I woke up at 7:30 on the dot -- every morning. Maybe it was the incessant sound of the woodpeckers screaming in the tree next to us, or maybe it was the light of the blistering sun shining through our tent that did it. Either way, I sat out by our belongings for about two and a half hours until the rest of my tribe was awake. But it was the nights that were the worst. Strange rumblings from the wooded areas around us kept me up at night, along with the fact that I was sharing about one square foot of sleeping space with a man who reached 5’10”. Did I mention that I sat on a cockroach?
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Andrew and I entered Yosemite armed with nothing but water bottles, trendy sunglasses, sunscreen, and a Yosemite map with a quote inside that read: “It is by far the grandest of all the special temples of nature I was ever permitted to enter.” Uncontrollable fits of laughter ensued, as that quickly became the catchphrase of the trip. We decided that we needed travel code names to go with our walkie-talkies, just in case something should happen. I was deemed California Mountain Snake, and Andrew was clam chowder Sunrise. I still don’t understand it, but it sure was funny. Being inside of the park was incredible - absolutely gorgeous views and beautiful weather. We quickly noticed however that Yosemite was the prime location to spot two things: large groups of families fighting, and lesbians.
They were everywhere! Camping right next to us, coming out of the bathroom stalls, discussing the series finale of the L word on the top of Half Dome…okay that last one wasn’t true, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t happened at some point. Anyway, I felt wildly out of place. I am by no stretch of the imagination an “outdoorsy” kind of girl. And as much as I was thrilled to see lesbians in the wild, I felt that maybe I needed a camping tutorial before I left for the trip. I was definitely not prepared for sleeping on the floor and zipping a door shut every night.
All in all, it was an enjoyable trip. I actually found myself laughing at my lack of camping abilities and the whole time I knew it would be perfect material for an article. I had a blast with my friend and was grateful that he and I got to see all that Yosemite had to offer [it really was one of the grandest of all the special temples of nature I was ever permitted to enter]. And maybe my experience will now dispel all those nasty rumors that lesbians are in their natural habitat when they’re out in tents in the wilderness. An air-conditioned cabin complete with a private bathroom and a lofted bed….now that sounds like a natural habitat to me.
