Camping. And bugs. Lots, and lots, and lots of bugs.

On Saturday, sometime in the late afternoon, a friend called us up to say, I’m going to so-and-so’s cabin, wanna come along? (so-and-so being a good mutual friend of ours)

So, we being crazy people, left within the hour, after consulting first with Mom. (she decided to stay at home with Simon)

The cabin -which belong’s to so-and-so’s family- is situated on big chunk of land, with a river rushing nearby.

Since we stayed over night, and there wasn’t any such thing as a shower (There is a bathroom but it’s inhabited by a chemical toilet you’re not allowed to use, and a few toiletries. If you want to do anything so crude as release your bowels, you have to walk out to the outhouse dubbed ‘Sassy Sue’.) I walked over to said river in the morning, and plunged into it in my Pjs. (I think my scrub was in vain though, since I didn’t have any soap, and probably came out dirtier than when I came in.)

In case you’re wondering “Why the pajamas? Is the girl crazy?” allow me to explain. The pajamas were because a) I’m not a skinny dipper, b) I didn’t think to bring a bathing suit. (oh, and c), the girl IS crazy. Very much so.)

The cabin itself is used for So-and-so’s uncle’s hunting needs. (every so often they go up there and shoot at deer) And it’s this weird mixture of feminine and super-macho.

Example: My bedroom was wallpapered in a faded rose print, the bedspread was frilly (the mice poop between the bedspread and mattress wasn’t quite so feminine… but that’s just my opinion.) and by my bed was a fine old vanity style dresser. (complete with mirror.) Inside the dresser was a case of empty gun-shell-cartridge-bullet things, a couple of hunting magazines, a few hunting graphs,  (I have no idea what they were for. bullet range maps? Is there even such a thing?) so on and so forth.

Also, the outside of the back door. Painted a twee green with white trim, and lettering that states ‘do drop in’. On the inside of the door, however, is a plaque that proclaims, quite boldly, NO TRESPASSERS. VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT. SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN. Inviting, no?

The entire house was like this- My grandma (I told her about it, when we talked earlier today) summed it up quite neatly by saying that, “Looks like the Mom decorated it, and then the guys did their thing.”  Pretty much. 🙂

Yesterday, before we left, we went out for a hike. Quite pleasurable, if you discount the fifteen million bugs chomping down on us. Don’t get me wrong, we all sprayed ourselves quite liberally with something that advertised to ‘Repel Mosquitoes!’ True to it’s word, we didn’t see a single mosquito- just horseflies, and vampire moths, and….

I guess I’m complaining a lot, but it truly was a lot of fun. In fact, as if to prove how much I enjoy getting munched on by the great outdoors Dad and I are going hiking on the Fundy foot path (or the eye of the needle. One of those) on Wednesday, and I am signed up for Circle Square Ranch (due to the generosity of my Great Grandparents. Thanks guys!) from the twenty fifth to the thirtieth. (Although I greatly doubt that anyone who reads this blog is going to the same camp on the same date, if you are, than for heavens sake, introduce yourself. I’ll be the one with the long brown hair, purple glasses, and depending on the weather, probably a gray sweater with a red heart on it.)



One thought on “Camping. And bugs. Lots, and lots, and lots of bugs.

  1. So that’s why your mom said you were out of town when I called this afternoon!!!
    Your camping experience sounds worse than mine…:P
    You’re at camp 2 weeks too early!!!!
    Although…technically I should have been there the week you’re going…but the tradition of All Girls Week (5 years running) has been broken…for one year at least…lets see how creepy guys really are…*cackles*

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