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| "Camp weekend"
I have said a number of times that living in Atikokan is like living a year at camp. I haven't camped, really camped in a long time. As a family, when my daughter was little, we had a VW camper van and we went across Canada in it. To this day, the noise of an old VW engine raises all kinds of nostalgic memories. I have visited camps, and stayed the night in a couple (most notably, on MacKenzie Point outside of Thunder Bay, on the granite rocks bordering Lake Superior). So I know the feeling, the slow, restful pace of camp life, when the biggest decision is whether or not to move the chair to follow the sun, or to rest in the encroaching shade a while longer. Having no camp of my own to go to, I awoke Friday morning and thought to myself, "Self, it is time to go to camp for a long weekend". What does this mean, when you have no camp to go to? You make your home your camp. Off went the radio, on went the loon CDs, on went the soothing sounds of a table-top fountain. Already, the feeling was beginning, like I was stepping outside of time, into the laziness of a summer day. A piney incense, a good canoe chair for sitting out on the back landing, a tall glass of iced tea, a good book. No computer, no phone, no tv. Just me, blissful, and the gently flowing stream of time. There was food in the fridge, cold drinks, and when I tired of the loons, a selection of summer-sounds on CD. Gabriel Fauré's Berceuse, Beethoven's Pastorale, Debussy's Afternoon of a Faun, some slow, smokey jazz saxaphone, even some old Bob Seger and Eagles – whatever my little heart desired. And since I had no demands on my time, I let my whims guide me – a bike ride out to the Caland turn-off, over the moistly popping bodies of countless army worms, and on the way back, stopping off to talk to Ruby a while, taking it easy, taking it slow. What else goes into a weekend at camp? Well, since I don't have a lake in my back yard, fishing was out, but an extended outing was – what would it be? A trip to the pits, a hike? The phone rang – decision made for me. Jacqueline called suggesting a hike out to The Pines in Quetico Park. Sure, I said, so innocently letting myself in for a significant experience. We drove out, me wearing a sleeveless top and shorts (first mistake – way too much skin exposed), carrying a belt pack with bug dope (thankfully), some gorp and two water bottles (not nearly enough). Jacqueline, a veteran of this particular trail carried hot dogs, buns, matches plus her water bottle and bug repellant. We set off. We saw such wondrous little beauties: jewel-like star flowers, lady slippers and kilometers and kilometers of wonderfully chaotic boreal forest. And what is in the boreal forest right now, you ask? Bugs, mosquitos, army worms. About halfway out, I realized what mistake number two was. (Note to self: when going on a long hike, do not wear new, unwashed wool socks. The sizing reacts with the sweaty feet to produce a burning sensation made all the worse on the downhills when you have to exert so much pressure on the balls of your feet.) Now, did I mention the bugs? ? On we went, up , down, over rocks, into damp, somewhat swampy areas, and we were rarely alone, accompanied as we were by the most friendly bunch of mosquitos I have ever met. Every one wanted to be our close personal friend. Add to this the gentle rain of worm poop and soft squishy falling bodies – oh boy were we up close and personal with the wild. In hindsight, sitting here, on my back landing, sun-drenched, with a cool drink by my side, I ask myself, were they really that bad? Really? Yeah, they were, but was the hike worth it? You bet. Coming out at the beach at Pickerel Lake, with massive white pines stretching to the sky behind us, the sun sparkling off the water, the beach teeming with clumps of yellow tiger-striped swallowtail butterflies, standing barefoot in the cool waters – it doesn't get much better than this. Jacqueline quoted a Bruce Cockburn lyric... "all the diamonds in this world that mean anything to me are conjured up by wind and sunlight sparkling on the sea " which pretty well sums it all up. We toasted the hot dogs over a small fire, ate them bare in their buns. Ever notice how great food is when you've worked really hard for it? And then this little, tiny voice inside me just barely made itself heard. "How the heck are you going to walk all that way back when you're dog tired already?" Jacqueline sagely pointed out when I admitted how tired I was already, that I really had no choice, and besides, if she left me there, the mosquitos would drive me batty. I can totally understand now what drives moose to stand in the middle of a highway. You really lose touch with reality with so many creatures out to get your blood. When we got back to the car, my feet have never been so sore. When I woke up on Sunday, I groaned as my feet touched the floor. Thankfully, I had one more day at camp to recuperate. A quick bike ride out to get the Globe and Mail, my Sunday reading, brought back memories of the time in the middle of a blizzard, I made the same trip on snowshoes. Doncha love summer!?? After an impromptu game of Pooh Sticks off the white bridge, to the haunting call of a loon, I was back by 11:00 and the big question of the day presented itself: "Is it too early for a wine spritzer, out on the back landing, with my Globe?" Not at my camp it isn't (remembering that Sunday was a very warm day). Then followed an afternoon of reading, dozing in the chair, finally giving in to the necessity of a short afternoon nap (a nap being another essential element of the camp experience) and a supper barbecue at a friend's house. The " camp weekend" concept was so successful that, as I prepared for bed on Sunday night, I had that end-of-vacation-gotta-go-to-work-tomorrow feeling. It's funny what you can fool your mind into thinking. I must give kudos to Jacqueline for putting up with the whining of a city girl. You were most patient, Jacqueline, sympathetic no, but patient, yes. It was, indeed, great fun, all in all. Oh, and guess what? I did have to go back to work the next morning. The Mining Attraction is open again, from 10:30 to !:30, Monday to Friday. The hours will be extended when we hire our summer student. |
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 Butterflies on the beach |