WILDERNESS CAMPING TRIP

In my younger (and much more foolish) days, I loved camping. My family had always been campers, fishermen and outdoorsmen. I had always wanted to go to Canada and check out the “wilderness.” Somehow, I convinced my otherwise sensible wife this would be a great vacation—go to Canada, camp and see what we could see. All in the space of two weeks, driving from Albany, Georgia! We rented a U-haul, loaded up everything we thought we would need, two children (boys, 4 years old and an infant) and the family dog. We had packed a huge list—food, tent all kinds of camping gear. We intended to make camping stops on the way up.
After hours of driving the first day, we decided that motels would be a better bet while we were on the move. Plenty of time for camping when we got to our destination, wherever that was. Besides, everything in the U-haul we needed was at the back, and we would have to unpack the entire trailer to camp. Fine with me, I was tired and the kids had been whiney. The last thing I felt like was unpacking, setting up, cooking, sleeping on the ground, repacking, etc. Money was a consideration, but if we were careful it shouldn’t be a problem.

We crossed the border above Syracuse, NY. No problem. My first real decision—should I go left or right or straight ahead? We pored over the maps. It was sinking home to me that to get to any real wilderness was a journey almost as long as we had already made. It had already taken a day longer than I had planned to get this far, and it didn’t look like the motel plan was going to work if we went straight ahead. Okay, what was on the right? Well, I didn’t want to go to Quebec; Nova Scotia was too far, so that effectively eliminated all but the left. Ah, there sat that jewel on Lake Ontario, Toronto! Lots of little lakes and rivers. Surely some el primo camping spots! Good fishing! Hot dang!

We stopped at several promising locations as we tootled west. Filled up! What was this?? How could so many people have the same idea as I had? And they were all packed into these little stink hole camping grounds. Not at all what I had envisioned, and not nearly as nice as comparable places in the U. S. We drove on.

We finally found a camping site near Peterborough that was halfway decent. Luckily, there was just one tent site left. It was about 6 or 7 in the evening and the clouds were starting to roll in. Looked like rain, so we needed to hustle and get set up. We just had got the tent set up when it started to rain. Can’t cook outdoors in the rain. We moved the essentials into the tent and left the rest in the U-haul. We ate cold and settled down for the night. It continued to rain. The dog had gotten wet, and then gotten wetter when I took her out for doodle duty. Not a pleasant smell to sleep with. The kids were nonstop whiney. Oh well, the morning would cure all. We would go fishing.

Next morning was overcast and threatening. I went down to the lake with gear and the 4-year old. Out on the lake were numerous boats already working the waters. Nothing there would bite a purple worm. It started to rain again. We hurried back to the tent. It had sprung a leak and the dog still smelled. The diaper pail was overflowing and was getting ripe (this was before the days of disposable diapers). The campground had a laundromat, so we decide to take care of our diaper and clothes problem. It rained, but the Laundromat was bright, cheery and dry. We struck up a conversation with a couple from Toronto, who had a cabin on the lake. They also told us the place always filled up in the summer with folk from Pennsylvania, Ohio and Ontario. Back to the leaky tent and wet dog. Marilyn cooked under the tent flap, while it continued to rain. We went to bed—damp—and listened to the rain, the dog grumbling and the kids whining. The dog barked intermittently at all the strange new sounds.

It continued to rain. We worked at knowing our new friends—maybe they would invite us to the cabin, at least for dinner. I gave up on fishing. Too wet and the wrong gear. It continued to rain.

After two days of solid rain, we gave it up. We were going to leave and head home, but our new friends insisted on us going to visit them in Toronto. They would baby-sit the kids and we could do the town. Alright! We threw everything in the trailer, locked it up and left. The sun broke out as we headed down the Queen’s Highway toward Toronto. What a promising start to a better day!

About 40 miles outside of the campground, Marilyn announced she couldn’t find her sandals. She was barefoot. We had to go back and find them, she insisted.

“Hell no, we are not!” There was no way I would set foot in that God-forsaken spot again.

“Hell yes, we are!” She really didn’t want to spend the rest of our vacation barefoot.

“Well, you can let me out then. I’ll hitchhike back to Albany!”

I watched her drive off to the east with a terrible sinking feeling that I had screwed up, big time. I started trudging down the road, too depressed to even stick my thumb out. After about 30 minutes, I saw the station wagon coming my direction. Marilyn stopped and sheepishly admitted to finding her sandals under the seat. Thank God! We made up and continued on to Toronto. The sun shone brightly and it was starting to warm up.

Toronto is a great big bustling metropolis, comparable almost to New York. Wilderness? Forget it. Great town! We hit nightspots, the sights. The Royal Canadian Yacht Club was my favorite. We had a great time, and our new friends looked after the kids and dog. The weather turned hot, but not terribly so. Just good vacation weather. Too soon, it was time to go.

We got to the border and found it was more difficult to get back in than it was to leave. After stating where we were from, the guard insisted he would have to search the trailer. “Fine,” I said. “Just put everything back where you found it.” The trailer had been parked in the sun for 3 days, locked up. Along with a full pail of diapers.

I watched from behind as he threw open the doors to start his search. His legs appeared to tremble and buckle as the odor wafted out on the summer breeze. He slammed the doors and told us to just leave. Goodbye, Canada!

We ran out of money about half way home and had to stop while I got my boss to wire an advance. And that was our last camping experience as a family.

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