I was helping my friend set up his new tent when he unzipped the bag and pulled out a pole that was clearly broken at the joint. “What did you do to this?” I asked. He just shrugged. “That’s how…

“Careful with that one—it’s got a broken joint at the top. Happened during a setup a while back. ”

I watched as my friend grabbed the pole, giving it a little shake. The tent was seven years old, and it had seen better days.

But it was still standing, and that was what mattered. We were setting up camp by the water, getting everything ready for a few days of fishing. It was one of those trips we’d been planning for weeks, and finally, the weather was cooperating. “Where do you want your tent?

” I asked, looking over the patch of grass we’d claimed. “Here is fine,” he said, dropping his bag. “Right next to yours. ”

We started laying out the poles, trying to remember which piece went where.

The tent had been packed away for months, and now we were paying for it. Every piece looked the same, and nothing seemed to fit right at first. “This is the new one you got, right? ” he asked, holding up a pole.

“No, that’s the one I got last year. Mine has the angled corners. See? ”

He looked at it, then back at me.

“Ah, right. The rain issue. The door is fine, but water still drips in at the top. ”

We both laughed.

It was the same problem with every tent we’d ever owned, it seemed. “Let’s just get it up,” I said. “We can worry about the rain later. ”

We wrestled with the fabric, pulling it this way and that, trying to get the corners aligned.

The wind picked up a little, making the whole thing flap around like a bird with a broken wing. “Pull that side tighter,” my friend said, pointing. I grabbed the strap and yanked. The tent snapped into place, finally looking like something we could sleep in.

“There we go,” I said, stepping back to admire our work. We moved on to the larger communal tent, the one we’d use for cooking and hanging out. This one was newer, and I was a little envious of how easily it went up. My friend had bought it recently, and the design was smarter—the corners were pre-bent, so the fabric didn’t pool as much.

“How much did this cost? ” I asked. “Around four hundred,” he said. I whistled.

“Not cheap. ”

“Worth it though. You can stand up inside. ”

We got the poles threaded, and the tent rose like a proper little house.

It felt solid, which was good, because the forecast called for wind that night. “I had a tent like this once,” my friend said, looking it over. “But I bought it from a shop that sent me the wrong size. They had to ship a new one.

”

“Classic,” I said. We spent the next hour moving things around. The sleeping cots went in one tent, the cooking gear in the other. We set up the table and chairs, trying to figure out the best layout.

“Where’s the stove? ” I asked. “It’s in the car. I’ll grab it in a minute.

”

I walked over to check the camera I had set up on a tripod. The feed was flickering, showing a few lines at the bottom of the screen. “Hey, are you seeing this? ” I called out.

“Yeah, there’s a stripe. It’s probably just the connection. ”

I fiddled with the cable, and the feed came back clean. “There we go.

”

We took a break, standing by the water. The lake was calm, but there were a few waves rolling in from the middle. It was supposed to get worse later. “You see that?

” my friend said, pointing. “The water’s getting choppy. ”

“Yeah, that’s where my fishing spot is. Right in the middle.

”

“We might be in for a rough night. ”

I shrugged. “I’ve slept through worse. ”

Back at the campsite, I noticed one of the tent’s straps had come loose.

I reached out to fix it, but my friend beat me to it. “Let me get that,” he said, pulling it tight. “Thanks. ”

We moved the coolers and the bait boxes inside the tent, making sure everything was off the ground.

The sun was starting to dip, and the air was getting cooler. “You think the fish are biting tonight? ” he asked. “They’ll be biting in the morning,” I said.

“Right now, they’re just settling in, like us. ”

A car pulled up nearby, and another friend got out with a bag of charcoal. “Grill time? ” he asked.

“You know it. ”

We fired up the grill and threw on some sausages. The smoke curled up into the evening sky, and for a moment, everything felt right. The tents were up, the gear was set, and we were just a few guys by the water, doing what we loved.

Later, as the night settled in and we sat around the fire, my friend looked over at the tents. “We did good today,” he said. “Yeah, we did,” I said. “Now let’s just hope the wind doesn’t take it all down.

”

He laughed. “If it does, we’ll rebuild it tomorrow. That’s the job. ”

We both looked out at the dark water, the waves still rolling in.

It was going to be a long night, but at least we were ready for it.