At the last minute on Labour Day weekend, I wanted to go camping as a last hurrah to cap the summer. My parents are always up for a quick trip to the lake so they took our kids in their motorhome while my husband packed everything that we needed for a two-night camping trip late Friday afternoon while I was still working. After I came home, we loaded up the van and did our best to head out of town.
Meanwhile, my parents were headed out to Bear Lake to get us a good spot. We had previously decided on Bear Lake because it was closer than McLeod Lake and a fast drive in the evening. We wanted to get to the lake as soon as possible on Friday because no one likes to set up a tent in the dark.
On the way up the Hart Highway, I received a text from my mom: "We forgot Ducky!"
I said no problem, and we made a quick stop to pick up my daughter's "cannot go to bed calmly without it" Ducky. Onwards to the grocery store with a new text: "There are no sites at Bear Lake, going to try McLeod." Extreme panic ensues. If it's busy at McLeod, there's nothing else out north within a reasonable distance.
Normally, my family doesn't camp on the Labour Day weekend and so we didn't even think about the fact that everyone in Prince George would also be camping and fighting for the same spots.
I attempted to call the reserve line and was told there were four sites left as of an hour prior. I wasn't allowed to reserve anything because I didn't want to reserve for four days (a completely stupid rule). I was nervous because the cell phone service at McLeod Lake is spotty to non-existent and we didn't know if my parents would be able to get a campsite and how we would find each other.
The plan was we were to drive carefully on the lookout for my parent's motorhome returning to town. With nothing to do except hope for the best, my husband and I completed our grocery shopping (potato chips and chocolate bars) and other shopping (beer) and headed out of town.
Miracle of miracles, my mom called me from McLeod Lake letting us know they were in the last campsite available and it was an interesting site but that's where we were staying. Much more relaxed, my husband and I enjoyed the mini-road trip with no children crying in the car.
Finally, we arrived at the site (completely ridiculous looking) and started unloading the minivan. Our son was very excited about sleeping in the tent that night and he helped me unpack the tent bag from the van and we hiked up the stairs together.Stairs, you ask?Up to a campsite?Yep.
We were camped on the side of the shady hill with eight stairs perfect for our children to launch themselves off of. Well, beggars can't be choosers, I thought to myself as we packed up the oddly-light tent bag. A little thought was scratching at the back of my mind as we opened the bag and started to unroll the tent: why is this bag so light? Apparently, the last time we camped, my dad and I very expertly could not fit the tent and poles into the teeny tiny bag so we elected to leave out the poles.
"I'll remember them the next time we go camping," I remember saying to my dad. Meanwhile, my husband had no idea that this expert packing had occurred and brought what he thought was the entire tent. Then we got to sleep in the motorhome.
After all of this silliness, we had a wonderful weekend and I feel a little less angry that summer is gone.
I'm ready for fall and no more camping for a year.
