As I packed for our vacation I considered the bulk of each item and weighed it's necessity for a two day camping trip in the civilized part of Alonquin park. I was pouring sweat with the effort, and went to check the weather report for that area for the next few days. Looked warm and beautiful, and as I hadn't had any use for long sleeves or even a sheet to cover me at night for months, I packed light, proud of my space efficiency and my willingness to make do with little which is what seasoned campers are admired for by their outdoorsy peers.
Well, of course, it rained the day of our departure, something it had only done for an hour or two in the last 43 days of this dry, hot summer. Our spirits were not dampened, however, because we planned to stay with friends in Baysville the first night of our vacation and surely the sky would clear by the morning.
Puke, however, has a way of dampening cheerful resolve much more than water from the sky, and if we were not made of sturdier mettle we may have despaired as we washed the spew from the bedding in an oily puddle at the rest stop on the other side of Toronto. The kid who has never had motion sickness before, chose that day to begin and two other kids complained of nausea too. This made us look forward to next year's drive to Prince Edward Island.
Glad to leave the confinement of the van and its vomit vapours we enjoyed a wonderful overnight visit with friends in their new woodsy home in the Muskokas. And they had wine which was good. The kids played soccer, caught toads, chased each other up and down the treacherous spiral staircase and left the adults to talk and laugh about the many thoughts and ideas which we have in common. So great to have conversations with people punctuated, back and forth, with the word "Exactly!".
The next morning it rained. But after a time it cleared and we packed ourselves into the caravan with bright optimism that the patch of blue sky above us would follow us to our campsite. It did. But by the time we had the tent pitched and were cooking supper wearing our ONE warm outfit it decided to pour again. Luckily, we were camping with friends who had a dining tent. And a propane flame thrower. And beach chairs in addition to their campfire chairs. And a full size Radio Flyer kid wagon. And probably at least 3 or 4 sets of warm clothes. It was really cold. And I was having a visibly hard time laughing at the irony that the TWO days of the year that we decide to be outside at the mercy of the elements all day and night, it's freeeeezing and wet. And there was bed to look forward to. Suddlenly that light comforter didn't seem like such a brainwave after seeing the forecast at the park office that called for SIX degrees above the temperature at which water freezes for a nighttime low. When the 5 year old girl fell in the mud in her warm pants and sweater which would also serve as her pajamas, I just hope the kids weren't able to hear the f-bomb I dropped over her wailing.
Sure enough we slept badly, maybe 3 shivering hours of REM each of the two nights at Algonquin. But not because of the cold. The same 5 yr old that fell in the mud also was running a low-grade fever which would later spike to 102.5 F because of what would prove to be conjuntivitis, or Pink Eye. We all know how catching Pink Eye is... Exactly.
Despite all these things we really did have a great time during the days. Hiking in the beauty which is Algonquin (hefting 30 lbs of feverish child in my arms), swimming (well the kids did while I wore the sweater that I slept in), seeing a mama moose and her calf (which Tobin said was his dream-come-true, how validating!), beaver lodges and dams, and talking with old friends. All the things we love about camping.
So, after enjoying two days at the park we arrived in Huntsville at the home of another dear friend. She hadn't had water , unbeknownst to us, until the previous day when trucks had dug up her yard and fitted her riverside home with new plumbing that actually worked. Dodged a bullet there. There were 12 of us spending the weekend. Running water was nice. And so was the annual float down the river from her sister's house upstream, the swimming, kayaking, campfires (that flame thrower is a really handy thing, it turns out) and more great, real conversation between old friends.
And so, reluctant to leave, because we only see these friends once a year and it because it was warm and sunny, we piled in the van for the 4 hr ride home feeling battle-weary, yet happy to be alive. No one puked on the way home which was good, and the only incident was when the 5 yr old girl shrieked during the whole story of Carl Lowbeer's retirement on the story CD we had listened to one too many times. But even she stopped her shrieking long enough to hear the part about how Carl buys so many carrots that his wife serves them to her guests with their coffee. Then she resumed but when the story was over we peacefully drove through Toronto without any traffic to speak of and it was raining now but we didn't care because we had a dry home to go to at the end of the trip.
We arrive in the driveway and the neighbour crosses our lawn and welcomes us with "Hey, there's the happy campers! Welcome home." Then he pulls Ed aside and tells him the news that raccoons killed the chickens the second night we were away. Unbidden, more expletives bubble around in my mind. Until I see my tough, emotionally restrained, oldest boy comforting his younger brother by patting his back and letting him win at the game of war he invited him to play to take his mind off the tragedy of his birds. He learned the need for this compassion from the death of his own pet earlier this summer.
" Weeping lasts for the night, but joy comes in the morning." From Proverbs. That's so true, says my nine year old boy.
