This weekend heralded our first backwoods camping trip as a family - and with our Brighton cousins to boot! Well to be honest, only M had ever done such a thing before.
Some places go by a shortened name they are so iconic. Algonquin provincial park is just such a place to Canadians. Primarily because of the artists in the Group of Seven. And it deserves its special place in Canadians' hearts. It was lovely.
The weather was perfect - even the heavy but brief shower that hit the lake as we paddled back to the pick-up point. The food tasted ever so good; the lake was a great temperature for swimming; we luckily/unluckily saw no large wildlife; the latrine wasn't too smelly; there were no neighbours but humankind occasionally paddled by.
Unsurprisingly, our poppets found loads to do and were never bored: canoeing, swimming, collecting kindling, playing cards, being read to, brushing their cousin's hair endlessly (more on that another time), checking out bugs, galloping around the campsite, singing songs at the top of their lungs as they headed to the latrine (scares off bears - and anything else), roasting marshmallows and various veggies, playing in the tent.
I realised during the weekend that my love and I had been somewhat creative when presenting ourselves during the early courting days. He had a food processor. Yup a batchelor in his early 20s who knew how to use a food processor (thanks G&L). Little did I know that he was one of the messiest cooks ever...
I had a deluxe down sleeping bag. Yup, a single gal with a sleeping bag that could handle 3 if not all 4 seasons of hardy backwoods camping. He didn't realise that it was meant for urban youth hostelling.
Somehow through the years, we manage to meet in the middle - low end cabins with electricity for easy food prep.
Any tales to share of massaging your true identity to snag your true love?
