After my 7th laundry load after five days of camping, I begin to wonder if camping is really worth the effort. It is not just laundry. It’s the food prep, the shopping, the packing, oh-sweet-Jesus the packing…
Packing clothes and food and toys, not too much, but not too little either.
Then packing, (squeezing, pushing, shoving, willing) it into the puzzle that is our car. Only to be unpacked and repacked for the journey home to be unpacked and then sanitized before packing away into all the varying crevices of our home.
Sounds fun doesn’t it?
But the thing is, it really is. Fun I mean. Camping, exploring, seeing new sights, experiencing diverse landscapes. I love that in one 5 hour drive we see a bear, deer, a coyote and a mountain goat with her 2 kids.
Unfortunately, most of the wildlife is on Bal’s side of the car and he only manages some shaky, turned head shots. Though he points out that they are better admired with our own eyes than distanced behind a lens. Touché.
Leaving the westcoast moss and giant firs, we head into the pine and ranchlands of the Cariboo. While home has the grandeur of immense trees and a kalaidescope of green, the Interior’s grandeur lies more in its subtleties. Wildflowers and grazing horses. Wispy grasses blowing on rolling hills and poofy clouds rolling by open skies.
Dreamy. (At the risk of sounding all flower-child)
I blame the abundance of wildflowers as the reason I got almost no pictures of the family. My plan was to take some great photos of the girls with Gammy and Gampa and Uncle and Auntie but wildflower photo taking, pesky mosquitoes driving the girls inside the motorhome, plain ol’ laziness and booze got in my way.
Still, I did manage a few.
Sorry Auntie and Kaya, no pictures of the coveted princess craft time as it was double booked with cosmo making time…
In a haze of alcohol and idleness, I only wish I had the fortitude to get a picture of Bal’s bug-catching swing and wiggle jiggle that shockingly succeeded in catching a dragonfly. His catch did inspire movement enough to capture the aftermath though.
Could there be anything more peaceful than a canoe ride? Maybe one without kids whistling incessantly.Pissing off the loon. To be fair, we thought the loon loved us and was having a chat, but I have since learned that the sound is actually an alarm call of agitation or fear, often caused by disturbances by people. Damn.
This sound then, means ‘Piss Off!’ not ‘Nice to meet yah lads!”
She is not.The majesty of that canoe ride can not be described in mere words. Lapping green waters, musical loons, towering eagles and even a fish launching itself out of the waters in a graceful display of bravado as it whips up behind Bal, curls and dives back down into the deep. Its showmanship evident only in my eyes, the splooshing sound and ringlets of water expanding ever outwards to our canoe and beyond.
Hundreds of dragonflies hover above the water and along our glide. A baby loon plays hide n’ seek amongst the tree roots and soil of the lakeside. The sun glistens the waters. The girls whistle and giggle.
Life is good.
Life is so damn good.
If you’re still not convinced, how about campfire chatting, beneath immense starry wonder-filled skies and this haunting sound, just before closing your eyes in the crisp, fresh air.
Yah, camping, so damn worth it.