Friday, August 11, 2006

A-camping we will go...

We're off camping today (mental note: pack Camera). If I hear nary about the job, then I think I can relax and know that someone else is feeling exhilerated that they have a new job that I would do better. And I just may be able to go on meditation retreat. I have not been making my plans definate just in case. I suppose I should have paid my non-refundable deposit...it probably would have ensured the necessity to cancel.

My first camping trip of the season involved a trip to Grand Manan - (this time we are heading to Fundy National). The first evening on Grand Manan was beautiful, the fire crackled cheerfully, Eric and I retired with the kids. We usually pitch two tents. A military 4-man (which fits two nicely), which is a classic tent shape, in heavy khaki canvas. Eric brings 2 army cots and the set-up is most posh. And neighboruing Canada's finest swag, is the 2 man dome, where Harry and I bunk up nicely. I tried sleeping on the cot, which would at first glance would resonate with my "I don't like creepy crawlies" ethic. Except, I have developed this terrible claustrophia thing. I tried the cot in a-frame tent last year, and spent a great deal of time staving off hyperventilation.
I am beginning to sound like a real drag to take camping.

So, on the great Grand Manan trip, I decided to bunk with Harry in the dome - because the window was closer to my face. All went well right after lights out. Harry and I read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by flashlight, and we fell asleep. The breeze wafted gently past my nose and I settled in quite nicely, until I heard the initial pitter patter of a gentle rain. This is lovely I thought. Some while later, the pitter patter developed into a shower which then forced me to zip up the window. The shower soon gave way to a downpour, which continued on through the rest of the night. This is when I started to notice that the tide started to rise...inside the tent, and creep milimetre by milimetre toward my air mattress. Then there was an incessant drip drip drip landing directly on my face. There was no stopping my eventual soaking. Harry remained dry and sleeping. By dawn, I was damp, and almost in tears, uncertain about my camping future, but anticipating the shaming I was to receive in the morning that I had forgotten to close the fly.

I woke Harry at dawn, delivered him in the dry tent, and got my first tongue-lashing. I nestled in the van, found some dry outerware, and had a nice catnap in the drivers seat, as I watched the rain come down in sheets, and waft across the forest in misty gusts of wind. The nice thing about camping in Grand Manan are the cook houses. They are dry shelters, with 2 wood stoves that pumped scrumptious hot-air. Over the course of the morning, Eric collected the drenched articles from the tent, and they dried out quite wonderfully. This I had not anticipated as I crouched soaking wet in those hours fast approaching dawn. In those moments, all is bleak and everything will remain wet and ruined.

I know that Eric in the back of his head desperately hopes that there is no rain in our forecast for this evening. I however, have learned that being drenched is far more uncomfortable than claustrophobia.

Wish us luck.

2 comments:

hotboy said...

I'm sure you'll have a great time! Hotboy

MC Etcher said...

damn it woman, what happened with the job? don't keep us in suspense!