Well-formed Females

Day 1

It had been approximately one year since their last camping trip, and in that time everything and nothing had changed. It was typically the nothing that sparked intense conversation among the women, focusing on the irony and idiosyncrasies of adult life. The commonality of shared values and perspectives brought them together and would strengthen their bond over the years. For example, it was agreed upon that under no circumstance should one put their exposed feet up near an airplane window. This kind of behavior warrants public shaming, or at the very least a sneakily taken photo for Instagram with the caption “really tho?”

Mia was the first to arrive at the Fillongley Park campsite, located on the Northside of Denman Island, nestled between an old-growth cedar forest and rocky beach. She struggled setting up her new one-person tent. Not one for instructions and a self-proclaimed kinesthetic learner, she preferred the trial and error method. Fully assembled, the tent looked tiny in an otherwise empty campsite. Mia looked over her shoulder to the adjacent site and noticed a woman about the same age as herself sitting on a patio chair outside a large RV. She was absorbed in the light of her phone, surrounded by kids’ toys and an overactive Shih Tzu. The woman briefly glanced up from her phone to help her dog untangle itself from her camping chair. She noticed Mia and flashed a quick smile. Mia returned the favour and suddenly thought to herself how different her life may have been had she stayed in Alberta and married Paul, a strange thought considering the relationship had expired 13 years prior. At the time they dated, Paul was in University to become a civil engineer and checked all the boxes. He was kind, responsible, on the road to gainful employment, and funny; Paul was voted class clown in high school. Early on in their relationship, Paul proclaimed he would like to be married by the time he was 25 and Mia had scoffed at the very thought of setting a tangible goal for finding love. He married a practical nurse named Katherine just shy of his 25th birthday. Together, they executed carefully laid plans for the future, obtaining pensionable jobs and a home in the suburbs. A dog and two children would follow. Go figure.

Devon, Sydney, and Taylor arrived one hour later on the next ferry. Taylor was at the wheel and noticeably tired from her travel day, but once she stepped out of the car a wide smile emerged. Hugs and hair compliments were shared as everyone pulled their accouterments out of Taylor’s car and set up what would soon be called Tent City. Colourful buildings arose from folds of nylon and fiberglass. Bungee cords of various lengths were strung through tarps and haphazardly wrapped around tree branches overtop the tents in preparation for the rain expected to fall overnight.

Once Tent City was deemed structurally sound, the women circled around a picnic table, eager to catch up on each other’s lives.

“Hey Sydney, are you still dating that guy with two Simpsons tattoos?” Asked Mia.

“It’s over, Sydney responded curtly. He ended things by explaining I’m a four-lane highway and he only has the capacity for one lane. Then he lit a cigarette on my stove and I told him to leave.”

A collective “mmmmmm” fell over the women.

“Worst. Metaphor. Ever.” Said Mia.

“Taylor, how’s your new boyfriend, Andrew?” Asked Devon.

“He’s…” she paused, collecting her thoughts, “he’s so wonderful. For my birthday he turned our apartment into an art gallery and strung up photos of me, taking naps with his dog. He called it the Sleepy Bear exhibit.”

Another “mmmmmm” fell upon the women, this time the tone was a full octave higher.

Unlike Mia, Taylor fell subject to the box-checking relationship standards of Alberta and married her respectable engineer at 24 years old. They divorced after two years and remain amicable. Over the last decade, a multitude of boyfriends entered her life, whose personality disorders ranged from narcissist to obsessive-compulsive to avoidant. Andrew is a twofer: deemed emotionally stable and owns a Bernese Mountain Dog named Oscar, who Taylor fell in love with immediately.

“Devon, what’s new with you?” Asked Mia. “I heard you got a new job.” Devon recently graduated with a degree in Geomatics, a modern discipline that involves a wide range of methods and technologies for collecting and analyzing geographical data. Her tech acumen was often overlooked by her ability to fly drones, a skill easier to comprehend by her friends.

“I start on Monday,” replied Devon, “I’m so nervous.”

“You’ll kill it,” said Taylor. “Just roll up your sleeves and show them all your badass tattoos. It’s an office power move.”

An assortment of small, stick and poke tattoos lined both of Devon’s arms, ranging from angelic to macabre. A barbed-wire tattoo circled her right bicep, an ode to her favourite bombshell icon, Pamela Anderson. Her newly purchased Harley Davidson bore the same name.

The sky turned a shade darker and it was time to build a fire. Sydney stacked small pieces of kindling into a pyramid, carefully placed newspapers underneath, and struck a match. A silence fell upon the women as they stared into the fire, watching the flames swell. Sydney continued to pile on larger branches and logs, occasionally blowing oxygen into the glowing embers below. Satisfied with the size of the flame, she sat back and joined the coven.

“Does anyone ever think about how poorly designed the human body is?” Mia proclaimed to no one in particular. “I mean, we’re bi-pedal. It doesn’t even make sense. Have you ever seen those YouTube videos where scientists are building a robot and simply cannot figure out the weight and balance of its joints? These robots take two steps forward and faceplant. Every. Time.”

“Hey Mia, when did you take that edible?” Taylor inquired.

“About 45 minutes ago, why do you ask?”

With no further questions, Taylor changed the subject. “Sydney, have plant-based food items recently monopolized your grocery store?”

“Yup.”

Taylor and Sydney met in University while completing their Masters in Public Health and frequently used their expertise to debunk myths around the latest food and diet trends. Taylor continued to explain how ironic it is that people tout beyond-meat products with high holiness, completely unaware of the environmental impacts associated. “I mean, when you look at the back of any package, there’s like, 34 different ingredients that require their own processing and transportation, it’s truly a greenhouse gas nightmare.”

“Well,” said Sydney, “in a world divided, at least we have Oreos. Beloved by all and not a trace of discernible ingredients to be found. Praise be.”

Around 10 p.m. the wind picked up, foreshadowing rain. The flames bent and ducked with each gust.

“What if it rains so hard we all get soaked?” Asked Devon.

“We’re adults. With money. We’ll get a hotel.” Replied Taylor.

They retreated to their tents as the sky turned its darkest shade. Zippers, the rustling of sleeping bags, and the occasional giggle could be heard until the rain came down and muffled the noise.

Day 2

In the morning, small pools of water had collected in the overhead tarps from the rainfall. Despite the disorderly placed tarps and bungee cords, the contents underneath were dry and the campers rejoiced.

Devon was the first to emerge from her tent in a black mesh tank top, jeans, and converse high tops. A velvet choker with a gothic cross hung from her neck. Even after a night of sleeping on the ground, her hair was enviable, the kind of lived-in blond that Vancouver Island girls pay hundreds of dollars to achieve and even more to maintain with various salt sprays and dry shampoos. Sydney, in head-to-toe Patagonia, eyed up Devon’s outfit but said nothing.

After breakfast and coffee, all four women squeezed into Taylor’s car and headed to Morning Beach Park, located on the Northeast side of Denman Island. They all kept their eye out for artisan food stands on the side of the road that typically offer various jams, vegetables, fruit, and on occasion pie. Purchases are made on the honour system by placing cash into a small tin or jar. Today they were on the hunt for dry firewood.

A half-hour later, they arrived at their destination. Sydney hopped out of the car and opened the back hatch. She let out a squeal as her cooler - precariously placed atop her camping gear - toppled down spilling its contents. Hummus, vegetables, and cans of beer fell onto the gravel parking lot. Sydney assessed the casualties as she picked up a dented IPA and opened it with a hiss. “Impromptu tailgate anyone?” They all picked up a can and shotgunned the contents.

A canopy of Arbutus trees lined the narrow path to the beach. Their hard, gnarled branches reached towards each other like outstretched hands. At the end of the path, a long wooden staircase led them down to the beach where they were surrounded by rugged bluffs and scenic views of the Coast Mountains.

As they walked along the expansive beach, the mid-afternoon tide retreated, exposing small pools with hermit crabs and starfish. Eagles circled overhead. Nearby, a heron stood on one leg watching the surface of the water intently, hoping to catch a fish.

They continued to explore the beach in silence, taking time to tightrope across a fallen tree trunk or climb to the top of a sandstone boulder.

Nearby, an older couple pulled a canoe into the water’s edge. The husband held his wife’s hand as she carefully stepped in and sat at the bow. They slowly and silently paddled in unison along the shoreline, then disappeared out of sight.

On the way back to the campsite the women found a stand by the side of the road and pulled over. Although it looked promising there was no dry firewood to be found, so they settled on fresh heirloom tomatoes and plum jam. Taylor made dinner that night, working the newly acquired nightshades into her stovetop Dal recipe.

With a mouthful of rice Sydney asked the group “did you see that older couple on the beach today? They looked so in sync with each other. We talk about how important good communication is in a relationship, but maybe you get to a point where the best kind is unspoken.”

It was a darker, quieter night throughout the campsite, it seemed others had not been able to find dry firewood either. The women sat in a circle around the firepit anyway using their sleeping bags for warmth and headlamps for light.

Mia spoke after a long, comfortable silence. “I hate when guys wear their wedding rings in porn. I’m willing to forgive a considerable amount of nonsense from the production team in an effort to maintain the fantasy, but there’s a limit. Poor lighting? Sure. Mismatched vinyl furniture? Why not. But dude, you’re about to fuck your stepmom, the very least you could do to get into character is take your ring off.”

Hey Mia, when did you take that edible? Asked Devon.

“About 45 minutes ago, why do you ask?”

Day 3

It was a sunny morning and Tent City shone bright and glistened with dew. Mia was up earlier than her friends and walked down to the beach. 10 metres from the shore, a seal popped its head out of the water and looked at her as if to say “friend or foe? State your business.” They curiously stared at each other for a few seconds until the seal ducked underwater, resurfacing another 10 metres out. Animals don’t wait to find out if you’re a predator, they make a snap judgment, then run to safety. As a young girl, Mia was taught not to judge a book by its cover. She always hated this notion, sometimes the cover tells you everything you need to know. Mia thought about the many uncomfortable interactions she had with men over the years and in some cases wished she had ducked underwater sooner.

When she returned to the campsite, her friends were awake and had already started to disassemble Tent City. They moved quickly and efficiently, occasionally murmuring “does this belong to you?”

After leaving the campsite, they claimed a spot in line for the ferry, then walked up the hill to a coffee shop. A bulletin board hung in the front with various community events, items for sale, and real estate listings. Yoga paddle boarding classes, artist studio for rent, disc golf set for sale. 2,000 sq West Coast Modern 3-bedroom home with 360-degree forest view. 700 sq deck space with lush garden area anchored by fruit trees and flower garden with room to grow whatever you like. Indoor/outdoor living at its finest.

Once seated, the cafe door opened with a soft ring and an older man who could only be described as a psychedelic cowboy ardently walked up to the table. He tipped his hat slowly, leaned in, and said “what a splendiferous group of well-formed females, better than a black magic candy store.” They all met his remark with wide-eyed silence. Every gulf island in the Pacific Northwest contains a small population of lonely, eccentric men that feel a need to be seen and heard by young women, but this interaction was most unique.

Coffees in hand, they waited for the ferry. Devon flicked through Instagram. Sydney divided her hair into three parts and started twisting each piece into a tight french braid. Taylor looked out the window, one hand on the steering wheel with anticipation of the approaching ferry. Mia closed her book, folding over the page in lieu of a bookmark.

Seagulls circled the hull as cars filled the deck.

The horn blasted twice and the ferry slowly pulled away from the island.