I’m slowly crawling back to reality after enjoying an extra long weekend. We just celebrated Canada Day; falling on a Monday makes the holiday a convenient long weekend, and taking the Friday before off meant is was extra long.
I hit a moment earlier in June where I just needed to unplug and get away, so I managed to book one of the only reservable Provincial Park camping sites in southern Ontario. We take our holiday weekends seriously. It was nice for me that the campgrounds was only an hour and a half north of home, so it wasn’t too much of a trek.
One thing about me and camping – it rains EVERY TIME I go. This isn’t an exaggeration. I’ve camped every summer in the last four years, and it has rained Every. Time. When it does, it makes me question why I go. It’s wet, it’s inconvenient, but then the sun comes out and I remember why I go.
While camping, it really struck me what an unusual activity it is. You pack up the comforts from home and do the same things (cook, eat, sleep, shower, etc), but the difficulty level just shot up from ‘beginner’ to ‘advanced.’ Wanna make coffee? Here’s your propane stove, walk to the water pump, boil it, then pour it into your french press. Sleeping? Here’s your mat on the ground and sleeping bag. And it really strikes me how campgrounds really do become mini makeshift villages. Everyone has got their own set up, their own way the site should look, there are the trailers, the palatial tents, the food shelters, or their tiny tents which do the job.
As I said, Friday was raining and grey and mosquito-infested (my poor ankles surely provided enough sustenance to support the local mosquito population), but on Saturday, the sun came out, and sitting around my site and the beach was exactly what I wanted. I read three books over my mini getaway, got a whole lot of knitting done, and I discovered a new use for that cup holder in camp chairs. That was totally intended to hold yarn, right?