Sunday, June 7, 2009
286: Nerstrand Big Woods
Indeed, the flu has not fully left my body, but I / we did survive the weekend, and after a full day of rain, that is no small accomplishment. On the drive home from our camping trip, Ryan and I were speculating as to whether or not any of us would have remained if it weren't for the group--for us, anyway, it was the commitment to the weekend (third annual: first year was Frontenac and second year was Jay Cooke) and the company.
Friday was a typical camping night: the set up, the gathering around a fire, the falling asleep to the rustling sound of dogs settling and birds twittering. Saturday the sun rose and the rain began to fall--and did not stop fully until, perhaps, when we went to sleep again. We listened to the pock-pock-pock of water against nylon ceiling, and for me, much of the afternoon, for me, spent huddled against the ice fishing heater, my copy of The Pillow Book wrinkled from a night beneath the drip in the tent, my writing notebook splayed open for random thoughts. We managed a fire that night, despite the mist and slight spattering, and the next morning, we woke, having survived rain-camping, and went on a walk to spot the hidden falls. Our company continued on, but my digestive system had been acting up, and, upon nearing the campsite, proved good reason for not seeking out more miles in the park.
It was a wet trip, and I admit to moments of misery, protesting the cold (I wore strange layers, mittens, cap and hoodies) and wet, my feet soaked, the dogs browned with mud and swiping us in every turn around, but I'm glad we kept our annual venturing date. It's good for us and important, and I had a lovely time with our friends.
Favorite bits: Ryan's small (and large) kindnesses, the robin's nest at the base of a tree on our site, the warmth of our little family at night, passing saki around the campfire, the pheasants along the side of the road as we drove home, reflections in pools of water, staying when so many others were leaving, giggling (especially over "short fork"--poor Angie continually breaking plasticware perhaps not manufactured for reuse).
More photos here. [will add link as soon as I upload to Flickr]