What Happened in the Tent

I love camping.  I get charley horse cramps in the back of my upper thigh occasionally.  When paired, these two activities might lead to your husband having to carry an unexplained ten pound rock in his pack.

We usually go wilderness canoe-camping in groups.  We like to put our tents fairly close together because one never knows when bears might come strolling through looking for tasty morsels of humans.  I am not very brave when it comes to bears.  Or anything for that matter.

Our tent was pretty small, because we were on an extended canoe trip. Portaging between lakes, my husband carries the canoe, and I carry all the gear.  So we have a small tent.  Even so, Husband-Dear winds up making an extra trip because I can’t carry it all.  He’s a pretty nice guy.

Finally, the last brush stroke in this setting is that we are nearing retirement age, and when I get into my sleeping bag, it takes Herculean effort to get up off the ground. If a bear did come, I’d have to escape by rolling away from him in my sleeping bag.  I’ve been imploring my husband for several years now to rig some ropes and pulleys to hoist me up in the case of an emergency.

Our camping mates had performed their evening ablutions and zipped the final zipper.  Light snoring could be heard.

But then, I moved my cramp-prone leg the fatal way and OH, HELP!  Charley horse of the most massive magnitude!

I gritted my teeth and wheezed “Oh, oh!” imploring my husband to come to my aid. 

He wrestled himself out of his bag to help, nearly knocking down the tent.  Finding me in the dark, he began rubbing my calf. 

“No, higher, higher,” I hissed through clenched teeth.  I just wanted to get up and walk it off, which was impossible.

Titters erupted from other tents, I am told, but I could not hear them at the moment.

“Is that better?” Husband-Dear kept demanding.

“Not yet, not yet!”  I was dying, the pain was so bad.  “More!”

Husband-Dear climbed around in order to work on my leg more.

I was still seizing up, panting in agony.  At last, thanks to assistance from H-D, it began to abate. 

“Ah,” I sighed. “Whew!  That was a bad one.”

“Glad I could be here for you,” laughed my husband.

I did not see what was so funny.  I was just so appreciative that it was over.  “Thank you darling.  You are awesome.  I sure love you.”

“I love you too,” he said.  Even in the dark I could tell he was smiling, but I didn’t know why.  Didn’t care.  Went to sleep.

At breakfast, everyone was smiling at us, and my husband was grinning mysteriously.  I couldn’t imagine what the amusement was.

It wasn’t until much later, when I informed everyone that I had a bad charley horse, their surprised looks clued me in as to why naughty ol’ Husband-Dear was so pleased with himself. 

“What?  You let them think right here in camp we were…” I telegraphed him.  We have been married so long we can communicate by arched eyebrows.

He shrugged.  He thought the 10 lb. rock I snuck into his bag later that day was funny too.  “Some things are just worth it,” he said.