Site 23

I could never forget the first camping trip I spent with my father at Campsite 23. I learned so much about who he truly is, and I learned a lot more about myself as well. On that first morning on the first day, I woke up before he did to the sound of birds chirping above our tent. I look over and he’s still dead to the world. He doesn’t usually sleep in but now we’re on vacation and he’s earned it. So, I spend the next 20 getting up as slowly as I can; pulling on my clothes a few inches at a time, and when I unzip the tent I do it in bursts that last a few seconds, so I don’t wake him up. I zip, then look over my shoulder to make sure he’s still sleeping. Then zip and do it again. Repeat until there’s enough room to slip my leg through and leave the tent; we’ve probably all done it. And when I finally managed to crawl out of the tent and step into the early morning air, I just breathe a sigh of awe and relief when I look around at the world. This is exactly what my dad and I were looking for in a campsite. Beautiful trees with the scent of sap and pine needles. The sun had just started to rise, sending a golden wave across the site. Big Gull Lake was the perfect choice; its waters are a mirror glowing pink in the early morning light. I wish I could take a snapshot of this in my head, so I never forget it. My father and I had worked all summer so we could afford to live; my Dad has been driving trucks for a job for the last thirty years, and he’s been to cities all over the world. But there’s nothing he loves as much as being out in nature. And I feel the same way. I’d been saving to go to Toronto for university in the fall, and I really did feel ready to go, but not before I got to be out in the woods for a little while and make the most of the time I have to do nothing.

I sauntered to the end of the camp to answer the song of my grumbling stomach. But as I got closer to the water’s edge, I realized breakfast was going to be a lot more complicated. We had stored our cooler full of food in our canoe last night to keep it safe from animals, then tied it to a rock on the edge of the shore for good measure. But the only thing still sitting on the shore was part of the rope we used, and it looked ‘recently nibbled on.’ I don’t know how I’d missed it before, but after I found the rope, I turned my head up and I see our canoe sitting on the water about fifteen metres from the shore. Before I really got a chance to ask, “what the hell”, movement rocks the boat and a small raccoon poked its head above the edge of the canoe, looking at me as if he’s saying, “Thanks for breakfast lads!” We’d let the canoe float on the water to keep it safe from animals…morons.

It looks like Dad’s not going to be sleeping in. At least he was a good sport about it, after I explained we might starve. He got dressed quickly and I brought him to the shore so he could see for himself that we’d had a thief in the night. He said that one day that we’ll laugh about this… but probably not today. We grabbed the remaining rope we brought with us and prepared for a fun morning of animal wrangling. I’ve been raised to know better than to mess with a raccoon, so we knew we’d have to get the boat ashore first and then worry about the stowaway. We took our other canoe, and as we began to drift silently towards our little friend like the least impressive poachers in the Amazon, my father walked me through what I’d have to do to tie up the canoe. I didn’t think that would work very well though, since the little guy had already spotted us and showed no fear. He looked weirdly confident, like he’d already thought three steps ahead of us. Also, he had the advantage of not being hungry. Dad showed a lot of patience, but knot tying is my least impressive camping skill, and I was trying to tie a rope to the very edge of a floating boat, while leaning over the water, without putting my hands in reach of the animal that had placed himself right where I needed to be. And lucky for me my Dad had awakened his inner gladiator and came to my defense…by lightly batting at the raccoon with his paddle. But that just made the canoe rock even more, making it even harder to tie my knot, and the raccoon was just having fun at this point. So, after getting soaking wet from splash back and frustrated from many failed attempts, I just barely managed to tie the knot between the boats and head back to shore. I was soaking wet from lake water and smelled like a swamp, which Dad found hilarious, bless his heart. I’d tell you that the real problem for us after that was how to get the racoon out of the boat, but that actually didn’t matter. As soon as the boat hit the land, the raccoon hopped right out and took off into the forest. I’m not Doctor Doolittle, but I know I heard him laughing.

Dad and I took a look through our cooler, and we miserably found out that half our food was gone. We were supposed to be there for another five days, but now our trip just might have to be cut short. It was supposed to be our last little hurrah before I left to live in the city for who knows how long, and it would have broken my heart to have to end our camping trip early. And maybe that’s what my father had picked up on in that moment when he looked me in the eyes and asked me if I wanted to stay. I think we both started to hear the call of the wild that all nature lovers understand. My father doesn’t think he’s achieved much in his life. He’s had to give up a lot of what he’s wanted to do for his family, so he could raise us away from the city. But he did it so he could have the life he does now, and I think it’s a pretty good one. If I learned one thing from him, it's that it’s better to be a little hungry in a place I love than very full in a place I hate. Our resolve was stronger after that day than it ever had been before to make the most of our time there. We stayed for the full week we’d planned to, only eating one meal a day and having more fun than we’d had all summer. We went hiking, boating, and spent each evening just sitting at the campfire talking and making jokes at each other’s expense. We were at home. And on the last night as we made our final dinner and sat around the campfire, my father said one last thing to me to sum up everything we’d been through on this trip. “Remember who you are.” It wasn’t as impressive as when Mufasa said it, but it got the message across. No matter how far away I go or what find in the city, I can always find my way back because at heart I’m still just a country boy. And there were no regrets when we packed up on the last day because our struggles didn’t matter when we were doing what we loved!