Campingninja Blog

My friend Suzie had inadvertently managed to get the camping Frisbee stuck high up at the very top of one of the campsite trees.  We’d given everything a go trying to get it down – shaking branches, rattling the tree trunk, and even tried coaxing it into coming down with a few gentle words of encouragement – but it seemed that there was no way that the Frisbee was going to budge. 

So on the orders of the rest of the Frisbee team (‘Camping Ninja, you’ve got to go and climb the tree!’), I found myself tightly gripping onto the tree trunk and a couple of metres up above ground before I knew it. 

It was a long way up and after being overtaken by a squirrel, for the first time on ninja record, I found my ninja skills hugely inadequate in the climbing department.  There was a lot to be learnt from the skills of the bushy-tailed-monkey-nut-hoarding furry creature racing up the tree before me. 

I made a note in my secret diary of my new identified training need, but until then, it would be a little while longer until we could resume our game of Frisbee…!

A lonely bottle of anti-aging serum waited at the sinks in the campsite washrooms.  Lost, forgotten, and patiently waiting for its owner to come back and collect it.  Who did it belong to, I wondered?  Someone would be looking older by the second without that, I thought!  I considered adopting it myself for a moment, but it wasn’t a very ninja thing to do.  And besides, there’s nothing wrong with a wrinkle or two. 

Throughout all ninja history, there remains a belief based on an old ninja proverb, that an aged face full of wrinkles tells a thousand stories.  And there seemed to be much truth in it, for my Ninja Grand Papa, who had managed to brainwash me into bringing him with us on our camping trip, sure did have a thousand camping stories to tell! 

So as we sat around the campfire with my friends Eric, Suzie and Elwood, my Ninja Grand Papa offered to tell us all one of his famous stories.

I took my time looking at my Ninja Grand Papa’s face and choosing exactly which wrinkle to pick for the best story.  He had always lived a good life and there were many lines of deep set wrinkles to choose from.  An extensive library of ninja adventure.
   
I finally settled on wrinkle number 4119.  One of the crow’s feet.  Although on my Ninja Grand Papa, I liked to think of it more like the foot of an owl from the camping night sky.

Then he began…

'8×±= ¥p?¥ µ =µ×±=¥µ¥ ?¥ µa?a¥…'

Of course, after all the build up and anticipation, it turned out that his story was all in the ancient ninja language of Ninjaaa which none of us could really understand.  However we maintained our enthusiasm and listened attentively, as the old ninja before us passionately told his animated story.

Laugh in all the right places and he would be completely unaware that actually we didn’t have a clue what his Ninjaaa spoken story was about, I thought.  I just hoped that he wouldn’t cotton on to Suzie’s annoyingly fake laugh, as even to an old Ninja Grand Papa that would be recognisable as fraud.

‘Ha, ha, ha!!!’ she chortled.  Until all of a sudden my Ninja Grand Papa picked me up and swung me around, high in the air, before dangling me above the campfire. 

Had we been laughing at the wrong moment?  Was he angry?  Did we offend him?...  Or was this crazy action all part of the story he was telling?  Who knew, but I couldn’t wait for him to put me back down again!  I was getting dizzy up there and the flames from the campfire beneath me were hot!

Swinging around on what I could only imagine to be my Ninja Grand Papa’s simulation of a fairground ride, I looked up to the sky.  A storm had begun brewing and I could see some hefty dark clouds making their way to the front of the queue in the weather system. 

Then a lucky downpour.  Rain doused the campfire out and the story, with live actions ended.  My Ninja Grand Papa dropped me on the ground with a loud thud.  Phew! 

It’s always embarrassing when you have a way out there, borderline out of control relative, but when they do something like that in front of your friends, the resulting laughter is unrelenting!  Secret diary note to ninja self – remember not to mix elderly relatives with friends on a camping trip again!

Ever since I left school I’ve always had a little bit of a problem dealing with the fact that I no longer have an extended long summer holiday, free for all the camping holidays my big, Camping Ninja heart desires.  I’m all for seeing other people enjoy their time off, but I can’t help feeling cheated when I can’t be out there camping myself too.  20 days holiday a year is just not enough.  So, as it is a secret diary, I confess that I pulled a sickie today so that I could go camping. 

Of course there are many, many times through history when dishonesty has backfired, and it looks like this is another example to add to the list.  An entire morning of camping bliss soon became an afternoon plagued with misadventure, as Perpetua Bondenbaum-Smith (pronounced Smythe) and Clarissa Darcy from work pulled up and parked up at the tent across the field from me.  Disaster!  What were the chances of that happening?  Admittedly it served me right, but this incredibly bad luck made me tent bound for the rest of the day.

I watched them from the window of my tent, unable to leave and wondering if they would ever go away.  Like a fugitive on the run I hid, secluded in the shelter of my tent, as I couldn’t under any circumstances allow them to see me.

Hours passed by on my stakeout.  Surely enough was enough by now.  But was it safe to come out I wondered? 

It was definitely about time I left the tent and it was no use hiding forever.  I’m a brave ninja and despite actually being frightened of Perpetua and Clarissa seeing me there, I had a few ninja tricks up my sleeve for occasions like this. 

I would disguise myself in a carefully crafted foliage and camping accessories camouflage. 

I snuck out of the tent and plucked bits off the bushes and took leaves off the nearest tree.  A Rambo style leaf look with a sleeping bag liner wrapped over my head, and a wooden spoon tucked up the sleeve of each arm made the perfect disguise.  Surely no one would recognise me now, I thought.  I considered going a step further to make sure, but concluded that under no circumstances was there any need to wear socks with my Crocs!    

I threw a Frisbee in the opposite direction to create a distraction, and then slinked my way across the grass over towards the field exit. 

An especially brisk walk was making my obviously long wooden spoon arms swing about all over the place and I began to worry that my new style might make me look a tad suspicious.

I was almost there.  About 3 more long, stretched footsteps and I would have been in the next field.  Then catastrophe struck!

Two, all too familiar heads turned my way.  I stopped, frozen in my tracks, with my long wooden spoon arms quivering.

Oh no.  They had completely and utterly seen, and recognised me. 

‘Camping Ninja, is that you?’ came a loud booming voice.  It was the same loud booming voice that grates on me when I’m in the office at work and to make matters worse, the body that belonged to the loud booming voice was ambling across the field towards me, followed by the second scariest work colleague you’d least want to see if you’d pulled a sickie, Clarissa. 
    
I couldn’t quite believe it was really happening.  But the situation was too desperate even to be a nightmare.

‘Oh gosh, what on earth are you wearing?’ asked Perpetua.  ‘What the dickens is that attire you adorn camping ninja?’ blithered the other one.  I really had no idea of what she said actually meant, but I guessed that it was also a question about my outfit.

‘Fancy dress’ I replied, with a novelty cough for effect.  ‘I’m on my way to a fancy dress engagement’ I muttered and in the same breath, before either of them had a chance to mention anything about me not being at work, I was gone.  ‘Achoo, achoo, achoooooooo’ I pretended to sneeze, legging it across the field and into the woods behind them as fast as my ninja legs could carry me.  

I didn’t dare to stop running for three hours.  And the worst thing of all was that if only I’d used the brown paper bag from the mushrooms I’d bought earlier, to put over my head instead, I was sure they wouldn’t have recognised me at all.  Or perhaps if I had gone for the socks with Crocs option, then I’d be safe. 

I waved my long wooden spoon arms in the air and shuddered at the thought of how I would try to explain this one to my boss when I get back to work next week.  Although perhaps it was conceivable.  I had a terrible cold.  Non-stop coughing and sneezing meant that I couldn’t possibly have gone into work, so for the health and safety of others at work, I quarantined myself in a solitary tent at a campsite.  I dressed in an unusual outfit so no one would approach me…  The leaves around my head were a known herbal medicine for cold and flu symptoms and the wooden spoons were… hmmm… the wooden spoons were said to bring good health in ancient ninja black magic… and I was throwing a Frisbee… as a physical metaphor to try to banish myself of all the cold germs…     
 
… well any excuse would be worth a try at least I thought!