I have always considered myself a man's man.

You know, a Marlboro man minus the saddle sores; Hemingway sans the mood swings; Wiley Coyote free from the freakish Road Runner.

So when the 'ohana of the class of 2015 organized an end-of-summer camp-out at Malae-kahana, I was all in. When I am camping, I am in my manly element.

First we gathered the gear. We had camp gear, safety gear, beach gear and fishing gear. We had clothing, cooking utensils, board games and toiletries.

I made my list, checked it twice, then stuffed the four-wheeled sleigh to the gills like ol' Saint Nick on vacation and headed out for three days of fun in the sun.

By the time we got to camp, most of the dads had their tents up and were playing games with the kids. One dad even put up a hammock that he made by hand in his free time. Can you say male Martha Stewart? Not to be outdone, I looked at my wife and looked at my watch and said, "Let's see how fast we can set up this tent."

By my count, the tent was up in exactly 12 minutes and 32 seconds. All we needed to do was top it off with the rain fly. Sadly, I forgot it at home, so we used the tarp that was supposed to cover our makeshift patio.

We then tried to set up the bed. Unfortunately, I also forgot the pump.

I was now two for two in the snafu department — get caught for steroid use and I would be banned from camp for life.

One of the dads suggested that I inflate the mattress by mouth. He said that he, too, had forgotten his pump once and inflated his bed the old-fashioned way. There was no way I was going to perform CPR on my mattress, so we decided to sleep on the good earth.

One of the moms came to the rescue and offered her pump, and I realized I was in over my head.

Once the tent was up, the bedding set and the gear stowed, it was time to wet a line. I dragged a brace of kids out to the point with me, gave a few casting lessons and then threw my own line out, whipping the coast for about an hour.

I fished hard, but when I finally walked back to the campsite, I had nothing to show for my effort. The parents joked that they were ono for some sashimi and that I should go back until I caught something.

Sadly, I repeated this process for three straight days and found myself trying to sneak back into camp. I was like a convict trying to break into jail instead of breaking out. I was caught every time.

Adding insult to injury, one of the dads who came Saturday afternoon caught his first o'io within an hour of casting his line and the second first thing the next morning. Show off!

In reality, the camping trip was a joy, and I think the families are committed to making this an annual event.

More important than being committed to the camping trip, I learned that these parents are committed to the kids — all of the kids, even my little rug rat.

Despite being humbled, I am a proud member of the 'ohana and am looking forward to next summer.

As a side note, our camping gear is already packed, including the rain fly and the mattress pump. One quick trip to Tamashiro Market and I will show them all what a real man can do.

Michael DeMattos is on faculty at the University of Hawai'i School of Social Work. He lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter and two dogs.