Why I Hate Raccoons—Part 1
I typically go home once a year during my spring break. This past year when I went back home, my dad had the wonderful idea of going camping. This came as a huge surprise to me for two reasons. The first was because my dad is most definitely not the “outdoors” type. He is more of the “stay indoors where it is warm and comfy” type. The second reason was that it was in the middle of February and—regardless of California’s image of being warm all year round—it was undoubtedly not the time of year to be out in the mountains in the middle of the night.
So it came to be that my dad talked me into going camping with him. I typically live with my grandparents, so he came to pick me up in the morning after being asked repeatedly “Are you seriously planning to go to the mountains?” by my grandparents. He reassured them that we would be fine, that he was a total outdoorsman, and that we would have a wonderful time. Despite my previous uncertainty about going camping in the middle of February, I couldn’t help feeling reassured by his newfound confidence.
Before we headed out to the campsite, we stopped by the local grocery store to get some food and supplies for s’mores to have later that night. We set out to the mountains, and it was beautiful. We had decided to camp at a mountain fairly close by, and the scenery was wonderful and we quickly found a good place to pitch the tent. The campsite had good equipment for each location, with a place to start a fire and a storage container to keep bears and raccoons out. We decided to load up our supplies into the metal container and spend the rest of the day checking out the surrounding area.
It was turning out to be a beautiful day as we explored the river and ended up hiking to the top of the mountain by foot. However, things were not so pleasant once night set…