While camp hosting this summer, I have learned to appreciate campground sounds.  Previously, the sounds hovered on the outskirts of my subconscious mind. However, I have taught myself to consciously listen.

The daily sound cycle starts with a noticeable silence. After people pull out around noon and before the new folks arrive after 2:30 PM, the campground is quiet and peaceful. I enjoy having a late lunch and listening to nothingness after I finish tidying up the sites.

Then, I hear the sound of vehicles and RVs rolling in, followed by my favorite campground sounds: the chink of tent stakes as a camper pounds them into the ground, the rustle of tents going up, the thud from a bundle of firewood hitting the ground. In the RV campsites, I hear the unhitching sounds, including a few curse words that always slip out when undoing the weight distribution bars. Then, I hear the sound of an awning slowly extending out. As the awning fabric glides over the rollers, it seems to say, “Ahhhh, we are here now, let’s relax.”

Slowly, human sounds add to the resonance: kids squealing, babies crying, everyone laughing (at least on day one). Dogs start barking, first at the chipmunks and small rabbits that live here and then at each other. Tango usually joins in the fray, barking into the air menacingly whenever another dog starts in down the road. He is the camp host dog, after all. He needs to keep them in their place, or so it seems.

Then, after the camp is set, the kids are set loose in the campground. They tear up and down the narrow road on their bikes or scooters. At first I did not like the often shrill noises of this phase, but I have come to appreciate parents who bring their kids to the great outdoors and give them a chance to unwind. During this late afternoon phase, I tend to come inside the RV and watch something on the TV, listen to music, or otherwise do some of my own version of unwinding.

Early evening, of course, brings cooking sounds on camp stoves or over the campfire. Yummy smells waft in as well. After dinner, the kids are out and about again, but more subdued thanks to their earlier expenditure of energy. The sounds change again as families start to walk around together, often heading to the beach. Parents soothing voices replace the louder yammering of kids.

Then, it is time for a campfire. I sometimes hear the sound of an ax splintering off some kindling. Then the fires start crackling, another favorite sound. If I am really lucky, I also hear musical instruments. One weekend we had a large group with a harp, banjos, guitars, and so on. It was magnificent, and they even played in the afternoons adding to the peaceful ambiance at that time of day. I do not hear many animals sounds here like I do elsewhere; this campground is full of human sounds. Sometimes a kid is whiny and tired, but the sounds usually reflect a certain level of joy. I understand that feeling; I seek out the joy of the woods myself.

I cannot say that I love all the sounds, though. Several times each week, the garbage trucks rumble as they empty the large dumpsters. But, it gets worse. Deception Pass State Park is next to Naval Air Station Whidbey Island. Fighter pilots in high-tech planes train in the skies around here. The noise has already generated some controversy, but this past week it was awful. If the winds are just so, the approach path to the base passes right over the campground, at times right over my RV. This past week the flights seemed endless, and two nights ago I counted 6 low-flying jets passing overhead at 11:30 PM. As I moved around the campground the next morning, quite a few campers asked me if it is always so noisy here. No, not always, but this past week made me wonder about coming back here next year.

But, now it is afternoon again and the campground is quiet. A few older folks are reading in the shade of their site and I hear only the ocean sounds floating into the campground from the beach day-use area. Tango falls asleep at my feet, and I think again about how beautiful it is here, whether quiet or with kids voices at full volume. All the senses engage in the woods and life is better for having been here a while.