Back a day early from camping. We were supposed to take G with us for a night of car camping, but thunderstorms sent us home. Where there is chinese food. And HBO.
Yes. I went camping. And i know what you are thinking: What is a girl like me doing hauling a heavy pack, sleeping on the ground and swatting deer flies? The answer? Fulfilling my destiny as a Canadian, for one. To experience NATURE, people. WILDERNESS. To be resolutely UN-princessy. To let my hair go UNWASHED. For THREE DAYS.
Also, as a Canadian, we have to do things to get the physical memory of summer seared on our skin. So that we can remember that once, through a haze of sweat and campfire smoke, we slept outside, and did not freeze to death. Because it was summer.
I anticipated schlepping. hiking. dirt. wildlife. Possible rain. Possible bears. But I did not think it would still be that buggy at the end of July. Turns out it usually isn't. We just lucked out. heh.
Chris and I dropped the boy off at his grandparent's house in Kingston and headed to Frontenac Park. And it was gorgeous and quiet and incredibly incredibly buggy. I became intimate with the flying patterns of each bloodthirsty insect.
Deerflies like to hover behind your head. On a hike, as Chris marched ahead, he looked like "pig pen" with all those critters circling his head. It's like they're on strings attached to your hat. And while they are unsubtle, their bites are kinda fangy and ouchie at first, then they scab, but not too itchy.
Mosquitoes, on the other hand, have the flying pattern of an ace fighter jet. They fly into your face then fall suddenly and bite your butt. And I can feel the venom work its magic and the skin puff up and I try so hard not to scratch. I have swollen bites all over. SOOOOO itchy! They are sneaky, but not so subtle. They hover at the tent screen, humming hungrily all night.
If they could speak, like those seagulls who shrieked "Mine! Mine!" in Finding Nemo, mosquitoes would be saying: "Some?" Some?" like an annoying kid who wants a bite of your ice cream.
Camping is not vacationy. In fact, it's a little worky. It's great to know that you CAN do it, but next time I would like a rustic cottage with good trails and canoes you can paddle all afternoon and settle behind a screen and play cards and make food without having to drench yourself in deet.
As we rolled up our wet tent on the last morning, Chris joked: "It's great you know you CAN do it. You know, just in case."
Me: "So we could be partisans in the woods and hide from Nazis?"
Now there's a game I played in summer camp.
