All Used Up

The view from our campground.

Many years ago, when my family and I were camping in a beautiful French town, along the winding Dordogne River and below an imposing Medieval castle, I told them in a calm, loving voice that I was done with camping.

"If you love me," I said, "you'll never ask me to camp with you again."

DW was disappointed but stayed quiet for several years. When she wanted to go camping, she took the kids and didn't involve me in the plans.

In 2020, when we bought our kayaks, DW and I planned several outings at various locations. "You know," she said to me as we explored the many waterways, "some of these places can't be done as a day trip. If you want to go there, we need to do an overnight stay."

I searched for nearby motels but found precious few.

Reluctantly, I agreed to return to camping. "But I don't want to camp more than three nights."

"Three nights per trip?" DW asked, excitedly. "That opens up all kinds of possibilities."

"Not per trip," I corrected her. "Three nights per year."

Feeling somewhat defeated, DW reluctantly agreed.

We did our first overnight kayak trip in late June, in Algonquin Provincial Park's Achray Campground. And while I didn't care for the camping aspect of the trip, I can't deny that I loved the kayaking adventures and acknowledge that we couldn't have done them without staying in the park for the night.

With the pandemic, two other planned trips were cancelled by the parks themselves. We did do a long day trip, back to Algonquin Park, where we paddled the Barron Canyon.

Barron Canyon.

Last year, DW made four reservations for campgrounds: again, because of the pandemic, one fell through. DW pushed her luck with the three that weren't cancelled. The first trip, in June, was a two-nighter at Samuel de Champlain Provincial Park; the second, back to Algonquin Park, was also a two-night stay; and, in August, we spent three nights at Killarney Provincial Park.

One of the islands in Georgian Bay, near Killarney Provincial Park.

Admittedly, because of the distance from home, it made sense to stay longer. We needed one day to get there, two full days in the park, and a day to get home.

But that was seven days of camping in one year. Had our first reservation not been cancelled, it would have been nine days. That's three years' worth of camping in one year.

Over the past couple of weeks, DW has been making plans for camping in 2022. "Count me out," I said, "you've used up all of my camping days. Maybe we'll go next year."

She's going without me.

Her first trip is at the end of May. She's managed to get our friends, Nina and Brian, to join her. And she's planning to ask our dear friend, Russ, an avid canoeist and camper, who knows Algonquin Park like the back of his hand, to join her on an expedition.

Bon voyage is what I say.

I'd like to paddle the Barron Canyon again, possibly in May or early June. Hopefully, the bugs won't be bad (we had almost none when we were there in October of 2020). But camping is out. I'd rather save my vacation days for the fall, when we plan to travel to Europe.

With four walls and a roof over our head each night.