The camp box is a big wooden box with a place for every single camping thing that you might ever need (aside from the big ticket items). It sits gracefully on the edge of the picnic table, and opens at the front, so you can easily grab whatever you need.
But let me start with a little bit of background info:
The original camp box was part of Chad's childhood camping life. His mom built it, and it was indestructible. According to legend, a bear tossed the thing around one night, and the box came out unscathed. Chad and I actually camped with it for a couple of years when we were first married. Most notably, we took it on a month-long camping road trip up the coast, during the summer before Clara was born. To be perfectly honest, we went a few rounds over the thing. It weighed about 4000 pounds empty, and it filled up almost the entire back of the Civic hatchback we were driving back then. The camp box was a nostalgic thing inextricably linked to childhood camping memories for Chad, but for me, well, I thought that a big plastic bin would hold all of our camping knick-knacks just fine.
I also must mention, because I want to be sure that Chad never, EVER, lives this one down, that I suffered horrible food poisoning from eating rancid peanut butter that was in the camp box (apparently left over from Chad's aforementioned childhood camping days, circa 1978), that Chad insisted would be just fine to eat. "Peanut butter is loaded with preservatives. It never goes bad." (Even though I was concerned by the fact that the price tag on the peanut butter said 78¢ or something, and even though we had packed a brand new jar of peanut butter (price: $4.95 or something), and even though I was pregnant. Pregnant! Would you feed quarter-century-old peanut butter to your pregnant wife? I'm just saying.....)
I made it through the Peanut Butter incident without permanent damage, but it left, shall we say, a bad taste in my mouth when it came to the good old camp box, and I was less enamored than ever with the wooden monstrosity after that trip. I think we possibly had some issues with the car overheating on that trip as well, which I'm sure was partly the camp box's fault.
Chad really loved that thing, though, and he got tired of hearing me complain about it, so a few years ago he did some compromise woodworking. He crafted a box with all of the same storage space, but using thinner, lighter plywood. The new box weighs a fraction of what the old one did, and it still holds all of the dishes, dishpans, flashlights, batteries, clothespins, lantern, bug spray, Uno, ponchos, duct tape, matches, etcetera (but no peanut butter or food products of any kind). A place for everything and everything in its place. And, wouldn't you know it, I've actually grown to love the camp box. It really is convenient to have all of your stuff centrally located, easy to find, and quite possibly bear-proof. The camp box is A-O.K with me these days.
***The contents are very disorganized in the above photo, but rest-assured the camp box is usually a tidy place.***Oh, and speaking of tidy, Clara brings her love of symmetry and organization with her when she comes camping. Check out their tent:
As our trip comes to a close, we're making the most of being away from the distractions of civilization. Mille Bornes is our new (old) favorite card game. Coup Fourré! It will go in the camp box, next to the Uno....
And the last of the marshmallows have been roasted to perfection.....
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