Camping on our Roof

A few weeks ago, some friends were over at our studio apartment in the Castro. We were taking pictures, and decided to go up on our roof to get some night-shots. As we stepped out into the moonlight, the fog rolling in from behind Twin Peaks, our good friend Samantha opened her mouth to speak.

“Have you guys ever slept up here?” she asked.

I looked and Chanterelle, and we both shook our heads. “Nope. We came up to watch the sunrise for Chanterelle’s birthday, but we never actually slept up here.” I responded. “It’s kinda cold, and I wouldn’t want to roll off.”

Samantha depressed the button on the top of her digital camera, and there was a weak flash. “You wouldn’t roll off. And don’t you guys have some sort of high tech sleeping bags? You’re always bragging about how well your gear works in cold climates.”

She had a point. My down sleeping bag was rated for -10 degrees, and Chanterelle’s, which we had recently purchased, 25 degrees. We didn’t have much of an excuse.

“Well…” Samantha said, her long mass of blond hair bobbing as she turned her head to face me. “I want a sleepover up here.”

That night, the seed had been planted. It took a few rounds of ‘but what if someone complained to the landlord’ and ‘Isn’t it illegal?’ to fully dispell my worries, but once I had committed, I was pumped.

At 6:30pm last week Tuesday, Samantha texted me. “I’m outside.” was all her text said. I went down and let her in. My friend Erin was already staying with us, and had been corralled into the plan by default. She was making dinner as we both reentered the studio.

“Hey there!” Samantha called to Erin, they were already good friends. Then she turned back to me. “I left my bedding down in my car.”

“Your bedding?” I balked, “what’d you bring, your whole mattress?”

“Of course not!” she laughed. “Just some sheets and blankets and a comforter.”

I rolled my eyes as we retrieved the supplies.

Within the hour, Max had arrived. It had taken a few text messages to get him to relent, but he caved. “Did you bring an extra shirt?” I asked him as he entered our apartment. He held up his messenger bag in confirmation.

The stage had been set. Five jazzed-up teenagers were huddled in our apartment, all ready to brave the elements and risks of the roof and go on a mid-city camping trip they wouldn’t forget.

I climbed up the flight of  stairs to my roof and started to set up the tent. I bought the tent for it’s quick setup time, but the cold and biting wind numbed my fingers and my mind, and it took nearly 20 minutes to fully erect the thing. I expected one of the party to come up and check on me, wondering if I was okay, but no one ever did.

At first I set the tent up over our apartment, in an effort to isolate night-time stomping sounds from the rest of the tenants. But after some quick sound tests, I realized this wasn’t really an issue, and I chose a setup spot closer to the middle of the roof, where the reinforcement and distance from the edge was the greatest.

I threw a few sleeping bags and blankets inside. We only had one Thermarest pad, and I laid it along the middle of the tent longways so it could protect our hipbones somewhat from the hard shingle material of the roof.

I felt like a soldier as I paced down the steps leading back to our apartment. I was quiet as a cat, trying not to create any unnecessary disturbance to the neighbors. I didn’t want them coming up to see what all the commotion was about. This was certainly against the terms of my lease.

“Okay guys. It’s ready.” Everyone looked tired, and they looked like they would be ready to sleep anywhere. One by one, people trickled up to the roof and made a place for themselves inside the tent. Chanterelle and Samantha were first to go, smart cats that they are, and took the two positions closest to the center of the roof. The tent was originally made for three people, and even with just Samantha and Chanterelle inside, it looked squished. Had I misjudged? Would it really be possible to fit 5?

I acted as coordinator, making sure everyone was at least kind-of comfortable, and making quick runs from the apartment and back to bring water, pillows, and whatever else was needed. Finally, at about 12:45am, I took off my fleece, shirt, and pants (I sleep in boxer-briefs) and squeezed in between Erin and Chanterelle. My sleeping bag felt warm and toasty, and a quick check with everyone else told me the down blankets and other miscellaneous pads and materials were working just fine to keep them warm.

There was some laughter, some joking. We all felt pretty proud of ourselves. Chanterelle, as usual, was being too loud, and I covered her mouth with my hand so the neighbors wouldn’t hear her giggles. As we all gave in to our exhaustion and began to fall asleep, one by one, I shifted and wiggled to whisper into Chanterelles ear.

“Look at the sky.” I pointed through the large mesh window of the tent whispered softly and Chanterelle smiled and nodded.

It was beautiful. The stars shone brighter than we had ever seen in the city, and though the wind whipped by, we felt warm and cozy inside our little camp. Our little world.

The next morning, I awoke to see Chanterelle getting up and making her way out of the tent. I was shocked. I always got up before her. To my right, Erin and Max were still sleeping peacefully.

I wiggled my way out of the sleeping bag and put on my clothes, making sure to put on the fleece as the morning air cut my breathe. Chanterelle and Samantha were sitting with a blanket over them against the doorway to the roof, talking and staring at the spot where the sun had risen a few hours before. It was 5:45am.

“How’d you sleep?” I asked them as I sat down in front of them. Both of them nodded their heads.

“Pretty good” Samantha said. “I thought it would be colder, but it was fine!”

Apparently Chanterelle’s new sleeping bag had worked well also.

I went down to heat some water and brew a thermos of tea. When I came back up, Erin was sitting with Chanterelle and Samantha. We sat there for some time, passing the top of the thermos around, sipping heavily sweetened Earl Grey, and staring over the tops of buildings all the way to down-town San Francisco. None of us said anything, but we all knew what the other was feeling.

We had done it, and here was our reward. Sure, we had gotten less sleep than on a usual night. But it was better sleep. Sleep under the stars, with a killer morning view.

In time, Max awoke, looking out of sorts and dizzy. He grabbed a blue blanket and huddled with it, cold as all get-out of the roof.

Soon the time came for us to take down the tent and return to the homework we had all neglected the night before. But as Max and I sat in Advertising class later that day, we shot each other knowing looks. We had camped on a roof the night before. No one could top that.

Camping on our Roof, 4.6 out of 5 based on 5 ratings If you liked this post, you might like these:

1. Stealth Camping, the first night.
2. Photo of the Week #11
3. Earn a little, spend a little