The time for foolishment

It seems I am, once again, going camping.

I think it was ten years ago that I swore I never would again, that I'd had enough of being bent over 50% of the day, to stir a pot, to unzip a tent and then zip it back up...

Enough of the rising damp, of the struggle to keep relatively clean and relatively dry. Of trying to figure out what I can and cannot bring across the border.

Of the entire day it takes to set up camp and to take it down again.

But no, I appear to have taken leave of my senses once again, and Boyfriend and I are heading off sometime this week to go camping.

It'll be my first time with this particular Boy Scout, who acquitted himself admirably yesterday, setting up a tent without a picture of the finished product, the instructions translated from Oriental, and my failing memories of how the thing worked. It's up in our back yard now, having given the neighbours hours of amusement watching us setting it up yesterday. Hubby dropped by and rearranged the front vestibule poles, and now it looks truly glorious.

Today we got a spray can of waterproofing and applied it to the fly, just in case...We are waiting for the weather report to indicate three mostly sunny days to actually head out to this particular campground - Lake Carmi State Park in Vermont - where the firepit stones have moss growing on them, which should tell you everything you need to know about the relative humidity at that particular venue! Except, of course, why.

Why I would go back.

I've been asking myself that question quite a bit lately, as we spent the past two (hot, sunny, beautiful) days in Canadian Tire, buying stuff for our short trip. Boyfriend has pleaded with me not to jinx it, but I can't help wondering if the heavens will pour down on us once we get there, having spent the only nice days in preparation.

Noise has something to do with it - why I would deliberately return. Our street is quite a busy one. It quietens down about 4 a.m on a Sunday morning, but the rest of the time you couldn't call it quiet.

The city, the pavement, the smell of the heat coming off the pavement, and the noise - lawnmowers, other people's music, other people's swimming pool parties, Osheaga playing on Ile Ste Helene... unless we close the windows and run the A/C, in which case it's the sound of the heat pump running endlessly.

Yes, at the campground you sometimes get some noisy neighbours, but after ten pm you can hear the crickets and the frogs. It gets much quieter than here, and my ears are desperate for some peace and quiet.

We were supposed to have been accompanied by good friends, who unfortunately have family visiting them right now and probably won't be able even to visit, but we decided we're going to head out anyway.

Tomorrow we'll clean house and arrange all our gear in some semblance of order in the basement, ready for the weather report to give the all clear. Our neighbours are on standby to babysit the cats. I think I might end up missing my Daughter's birthday. 

But we're going.

In the immortal words of Captain James T. Kirk (though he was an Admiral when he uttered them, but that's of interest only to serious trekkies) :

"May fortune favour the foolish."