Family Snippets - 24. Tentalogically Challenged

“I’m bored,” Andrew said. “What can we do?”

“How about putting up the new tent?” Colin suggested.

Both boys looked at me. I smiled. “Sure!”

It was Friday afternoon and we had a long weekend coming up. We had tried to get a new tent for Christmas, but the shop had been out of stock and the tent didn’t arrive until the week before Australia Day. I had collected it earlier in the week, with the plan being to set it up for the long weekend. The boys had anticipated my plans.

Our previous tent had been a lightweight tent whose main problem was that it was a little small – fine for two people, but Andrew had expressed an interest in going camping with Colin and I – and it was impossible to stand up in it, making getting dressed a serious challenge. Janine and I had gone shopping one day when the boys were elsewhere and found a reasonable-sized canvas tent that included a annex canopy area for hot days or when it was raining.

“Let’s move the tent outside,” I said. “Anyone want to help me?”

“I will!” Andrew said, and tried to pick up one end of the tent.

Canvas tents are heavy. “Don’t strain yourself,” I said, as I picked up the bag by the straps and staggered to the door.

Once we were outside, and after making the extremely important decision on where to set up the tent – not too far from the house, so the boys could come inside if they needed to – it was time to get started.

“Why don’t you hold the end of the bag, Colin, while I pull the tent out,” I said.

Colin grabbed the one end, while I reached into the bag and pulled on the tent. The result was Colin being dragged along the ground as the tent refused to leave its cosy confines.

We tried again, with the same result. We then swapped ends, which simply meant that Colin was dragged in the opposite direction.

The three of us looked at each other.

“Maybe we should cut it out?” Andrew suggested.

“I’d prefer not, though I doubt we’ll be able to get the tent back in the bag once we’ve finished,” I said. I considered the problem and then came up with the answer. “Why don’t we try peeling the cover off the tent?”

Both boys stared at me, not understanding. I smiled, and pulled the tent bag upright, so the end was on the ground. “Andrew, Colin, grab the top of the bag and let’s pull it down the side.”

“Like taking off a sock!”

“That’s right, Colin. Just like taking off a sock.”

It was still a minor struggle, but we succeeded. Once we had the tent half exposed, I was able to grab the end of the bag and shake the tent the rest of the way out.

We put the tent where we wanted and unrolled it. It seemed bigger than I had expected, but it had been a month since I had ordered it.

“Where do we want the entrance?” I asked, pointing in the two directions that it could go.

“Closer to the door, in case we have to go to the toilet in the middle of the night,” Colin said. He had never been camping somewhere without toilets.

“Let’s just check... Good! It’s already in the right place. Now, where are the instructions?”

I went searching through the canvas bag, and the separate section for the pegs and guy ropes, but without success.

The instructions had disappeared.

“Does anyone know where the instructions are?”

“I took them out earlier to read,” Colin said.

“And where are they now?”

“In my room.”

I paused, but sometimes Colin needs prompting. “Do you think you can go get them? It’s going to be really hard to put up the tent without instructions.”

His eyes opened wide and then he nodded. “I’ll go get them.”

While I waited for him to return, I headed into the shed. I had just remembered that we’d need hammers to put in the pegs. It was too early to teach the boys how to use rocks instead. That was a lesson for another day.

“Here you are,” Colin said, handing over the instructions.

I reviewed them to refresh my memory. The first step was to peg down the tent, and then start putting together the frame. Before I did that, I wanted to see how easy it was to identify the different types of poles.

I looked around. “Did anyone see the poles?” I had assumed they were wrapped up inside the tent, but I hadn’t spotted them when we unrolled the tent.

Both boys shrugged.

I got down and crawled over the tent, patting it down to see if the poles were hidden inside somewhere.

I wasn’t successful.

Sitting back on my heels and stared at the tent, and then looked across at the boys. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any poles. We can’t set up the tent.”

“Are you sure?” Colin asked.

“I’m sure. The store must have forgotten to give them to us.” I was hoping that that was all it was – that there had been another bag for the poles and the person who had fetched the tent from storage had missed the second item.

We rolled up the tent – nowhere near as tight as it had been originally, which meant that there was no chance it would fit back in its bag – moved it up onto the verandah, as there were possible showers forecast for that night, and then went back inside.

I rang the store and they confirmed that I was supposed to get two bags with that tent, so I told them that I’d be in to see them in the morning to pick up the poles.

There was something still bothering me. I fired up the computer and got onto the store’s website. Browsing through their online catelogue, I checked out the range of canvas tents. I looked at the pictures, and then at the picture on the instruction sheet.

Not only had they failed to give me the poles, but they had also given me the wrong tent.

The tent we had been given was the next model up, approximately twice the size of the tent we ordered. It was way too big for what we wanted, which was a monthly overnight camping trip for Colin and me, with the possibility that Andrew would join us later.

I started searching for the receipt, so I would be able to return the tent and get what we wanted. I searched the pile of papers next to the bed. I managed to find a bill I had forgotten to pay, but I didn’t find the receipt.

I searched the rest of the house with no luck. While I’m normally very conservative with throwing things out, I must have made an exception for that receipt. I had to hope that the store wouldn’t require it, given that I was exchanging from a more expensive tent, especially as I had only paid for the cheaper tent.

The next morning I loaded the tent into the back of my car and drove to the camping store. Once there, I mentioned I had rung the night before about the missing poles, and then explained my new problem with the tent. They were very helpful and it wasn’t long before I was heading home with two boxes: one containing the smaller tent, and the other, I was assured, containing the poles.

Janine had plans for the morning that involved torturing Colin (buying new school shoes and, while out, doing some other shopping), so it wasn’t until the afternoon that the boys and I were able to assemble together for our massive construction attempt.

The boxes were opened and it was noted, with much relief, that the second box did indeed contain the poles.

“We’re going to need the number one poles to start with,” I said after reading the instructions. That was actually step three, but I was concerned on how to work which pole was which.

My concerns were justified. We couldn’t tell from the instructions how to tell the poles apart.

“This is a number four pole,” Andrew said, holding one up.

“How do you know?”

“It’s written on it,” he said, pointing to a fade black number.

We quickly sorted out the poles, and found a few where the numbers were so faded that they were almost invisible. It was only by comparing them to similar poles without faded numbers, and back to the instruction sheet that indicated how many poles there should be of each type, that we were able to work it out.

“Colin, can you please go inside and ask Mummy for a marker pen?” I asked.

“Why?”

“Because we need to re-mark the poles. We don’t want to go camping and not be able to work out which poles were which.” Sometimes the obvious really does need to be spelt out, especially with kids.

Colin nodded. “Okay.”

A few minutes later, all the poles were marked multiple times, so if one number wore off, others should still be visible.

It was time to set up the tent. We carried to where we wanted it – the boys noticed it was a lot lighter than the other tent, though still too heavy for them to manage by themselves – and rolled it out. I was a lot happier this time as it was a much more manageable size than the the previous one.

“Step one. Peg out the corners of the tent, and then peg out the sides.”

Colin and I picked up hammers and some pegs. There were two type of pegs, and I assumed that they were for different types of soil.

After I hammered a peg in at one corner, I pulled the tent tight and asked Colin to do that corner. I then went around and did the same for the other two corners.

Andrew, who had been left with the instructions, was frowning. “What does pegging out, mean?”

“It means putting pegs at each of the appropriate places around the tent to make sure it stays in place.”

“But why do they call it pegging out?”

“Because it involves putting pegs into the ground.”

“Why do they call them pegs?”

Sometimes the boys ask too many questions. “Because that’s their name. I didn’t make up the name, so I don’t know why they called them that.”

Colin and I got to work.

“Ouch!”

I looked up to see Colin shaking a hand. “Did you hit yourself with the hammer?”

He nodded. I grinned. “Everyone does that, Colin. It just takes practise to use a hammer without hitting yourself.”

I headed to the peg bag and frowned. There weren’t enough of the pegs we were using to complete what we were doing. “Andrew, can you count how many pegs we need to do all the points around the tent?”

He circled the tent, counting slowly. “Twenty-two.”

There obviously weren’t twenty-two pegs of the type we were using, and equally obviously there weren’t twenty-two pegs of the other type, either. For reasons that escaped me, it appeared that we would have to mix-and-match our pegs. This bothered my consistency gene, as I liked to use the same type of peg for the same purpose. However, I wasn’t fanatical on the subject so I picked up some of the other type of peg and used those to finish off.

It took us a while, but we got it done.

“Okay, boys, I need you help to pull out the annex roof,” I said, referring to the undercover area next to the main tent. It has been one of the biggest selling points for me when we were looking at tents – a place to sit out of the rain or sun.

We started to stretch out that section of the roof and I quickly realised we had a problem.

“Er... boys? I think the tent is facing the wrong way.”

The entrance to the tent wasn’t where I had thought it was. It was facing in a direction where there wasn’t room to put up the annex section.

“I’m sorry, but we’ll have to pull up all the pegs, turn the tent around, and do it all again.”

Pulling up the pegs was a lot faster than putting them in. The boys and I then grabbed three of the corners and rotated the tent so it would be facing in the direction we wanted. To save time, I quickly put in all the pegs myself, rather than having Colin do his fair share.

The next challenge was working out how to fit the poles to the tent. The instructions were sadly lacking in details, such as when to feed key poles through holes in the canvas, but after a few false starts, we managed to work it out.

It wasn’t long before we have the main part of the tent standing upright. It wasn’t taut, but it was standing. I went back to the instructions.

“Uh oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Colin asked.

“Just a second.” I had finally noticed in the instructions how some of the poles were not identical. It said I had to make sure that the poles with the holes near the top were fitted at the front of the tent, as that would be where the poles to hold up the annex would be connected.

I walked around to the back of the tent and checked the poles. Every one of them had a hole near the top. I was about to start dismantling the tent so I could move them to the front when I thought I’d doublecheck the poles at the front. Climbing under the annex canopy, I pushed the canvas out of the way so I could check the same places on the front poles.

They also had holes. Which was a smart solution to the issue, even if the instructions didn’t agree.

We started on the annex canopy. I was quite pleased – it only took us four attempts to work out how to fit the poles together in the right order. Colin was a totem of patience as he stood there holding up the central pole while I worked out how to fit the other poles to it in the correct order.

As we were finished, Janine came out. “I’ve brought cheese and bics for everyone.”

The boys dived in. I took a few. “Thanks. But where’s the gin and tonic?”

She chuckled. “Sorry, I couldn’t find any.” She examined the final results of our construction attempt. “Not bad.”

I shrugged. “Not quite perfect, but it looks good.”

“Sorry I didn’t come out to help, but I didn’t think it would be useful,” Janine said.

“Yeah,” I said, recalling the challenges along the way and mentally agreeing that hysterical laughter would have been a huge distraction.