Summertime in the Great Lakes State is the perfect time to be in the midst of the “Up-North,” the “Play-Until-You-Drop,” and the “It-Doesn’t-Get-Any-Better-Than-This” part of the world.

Boating (which I don’t do because I don’t have that kind of money), hiking (which I don’t do because I don’t have that kind of ambition), fishing (which I don’t do because I don’t have that kind of patience), golfing (which I don’t do because I don’t have that kind of masochistic tendencies — anymore), and camping (which I definitely do because I have a park model “shack” perched on a seasonal water front site in a great little campground in Michigan’s Thumb region) are just a few of the outdoor activities that Pure Michigan has to offer. We may get our share of hot and humid summer weather, but I would rather surf through a heat wave than shovel through two feet of lake effect.

I like to camp. I like it a lot.

In my early twenties, my friends and I would travel deep into the Manistee National Forest, along unmarked fire trails, to a secluded point where the Knudsen Creek merges with the White River, someplace southwest of Hesperia. This was real camping — no shower houses, no flush toilets, no swimming pools and no camp stores — nothing but woods, river, tents, coolers and campfire smoke.

Oh yeah — and mosquitoes. Lots of mosquitoes.

To be historically accurate, my friends and I (known as ZZoomers — I’m sure I’ll give you an explanation of the term in a later episode) didn’t start our ventures into the Big Woods because of a lofty desire to commune with nature. We started going back there to party like it was 1999 (in 1977).

Remember, we were in our twenties.

We referred to those Memorial Day and Labor Day extravaganzas as “ZZoomFests” (because we are ZZoomers — again, don’t worry about it, I’ll explain the term some other time). Twice a year, for 30 years, we trekked back into the woods to enjoy the very best that Michigan’s north woods had to offer.

Eventually, we grew up, got real jobs, became responsible adults, had kids (not always in that order), but still managed to find a way to get back into the woods. Our kids grew up knowing what it was like to sleep in a tent through a rain storm, bake a pineapple upside-down cake in a Lodge cast iron Dutch oven, tell hilariously long and pointless stories around a campfire, and hang out with some of the best people God ever placed on this Earth.

But, after 30 years, backs weakened, ambitions soften and a little more luxury was desired. After three decades, we traded in our roughing-it camping lifestyle for softer beds and flush toilets.

However, my youngest son, Jake, who attended his first ZZoomFest at the ripe old age of 3, immediately gathered together a new generation of ZZoomers and continued the tradition. This year, marks the 40th year of excursions to the point where the Knudsen Creek flows into the White River.

Most of the ZZoomers still camp. Not in tents with sleeping bags on the hard ground, but in pop-ups, pull behinds, fifth-wheels, motor homes, and park models (with a three-season room, air conditioning, and 300 square feet of “outdoor entertainment area.”)

We didn’t lose our desire to camp, sit around a fire with good friends, and commune with nature — we just got older, softer, and succumbed to a preference for hot showers over bathing in the frigid waters of the White River.

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.