Scenes from a camping trip
- Drove up to Port Kent and took the ferry across to Burlington. A little faster than driving the back roads of Vermont, and I was instantly glad I did, because nothing says you’re on vacation like driving on to a boat.
- The acorns were trying to kill us. And they were doing a damned good job.
- The mosquitoes were like nothing I’ve encountered in years. Vicious, multitudinous, quick.
- The days were generally nice, and the nights were cool and pleasant. But we couldn’t sit outside for five minutes in the evening without getting eaten alive, so we slept from about 9 to 7.
- Bike tours would roll into the campground late in the afternoon, completely dominate the showers for several hours, and then leave early in the morning.
- The leftover Phish fans did not hog the showers. We wished they would. What is with the f’ing patchouli? (My hippie period lasted for about ten minutes.)
- Wakened one night by a girl on the next site, insisting to her boyfriend, “Omigod there is an animal in the tent!” They had put a screen house over their tent, so she didn’t mean it was in the actual tent, but in the screen house. “It was white and fluffy and big like a dog!” So, it was either a possum or, possibly, a dog. Much excitement.
- Speaking of which, and to paraphrase the late Sam Kinison — if you don’t trust the tent, why are you sleeping in the tent? Dozens of different contrivances, most involving some arrangement of tarp, to cover the tent and protect it from rain. It’s called a rain fly, people! And even if you don’t have one, keep your stuff from touching the walls and you’ll stay dry. Geez, this ain’t rocket science.
- Much French was spoken in the campground. I couldn’t understand a word.
- We did much biking, a little bit of beaching, and never got the canoe out. The weather was iffy, but we really only got caught out once, when we were kinda trapped down at the beach house for 40 minutes waiting for a massive storm to clear enough that we would only be soaked (rather than drowned) trying to walk to the tent.
- Never got the girls their promised fire and s’mores, though we did go to Lake Champlain Chocolate twice for the most decadent ice cream on the planet. It makes Ben & Jerry’s seem like Sealtest. Instant chocolate coma.
- The incident of the exploding stove was not repeated.
- We hardly drove. It was paradise. When I needed to go to the grocery store, I took the bike path to the Hannaford. Which had two bike racks. So did the Rite-Aid. I’ve got some letter-writing to do, ’cause when I bike to the Rite-Aid here, I have to chain up to the garbage can.