Walking down a dirt road to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night isn’t my idea of a relaxing vacation, but for some reason it’s what my family wanted to do this year.
“We’re going camping!” my 8-year-old daughter exclaimed about the family vacation we’d be taking.
“Three against one,” followed my 10-year-old son with a sympathetic smile, already knowing I wasn’t keen on the idea, but that I’d agreed to go with the majority.
This little discussion happened six months ago and I had high hopes they’d change their minds. They didn’t.
Setting up camp on the beautiful Skaha Lake in Penticton, B.C., I tried to be helpful to my husband as he unpacked and set up our temporary home for the week. The kids immediately jumped in the lake and I poured myself a stiff drink.
The first day was rough. Even though my husband did most of the work while I drank with the ducks, I felt stressed by the work involved. The play wasn’t much better.
“Get your bathing suit on,” my kids instructed once we were all set up. “We’re going in the lake. As a family!”
“But it’s not even hot out,” I objected as the wind whipped my hair around my head and I looked at the choppy waters of the lake.
“We’re not going swimming, Mom!” my daughter said. “We’re going in these!”
“You mean these floaties with the big circles in the middle?” I asked in horror. “Won’t my bum touch the cold water?”
“Yah!” she said excitedly. “Come on!”
As I floated around with my smiling family, bracing myself every time a boat went by because of the extra waves they created, I wondered how I’d endure a full week of this. I was relieved a few hours later when it was time for bed.
The next morning I woke up early to the sounds of jet skis and speedboats and immediately remembered where I was.
Paying a dollar to shower with three spiders in the public washroom, I resigned myself to an almost see-through curtain and experienced a weak spray of water that alternated between scalding hot and freezing cold. When I finally got the temperature of the water to a tolerable level my money ran out and I still had a head full of shampoo. Requiring another loonie to rinse it all off, I searched my bag as a fourth spider ran over my foot and I screamed so loud I scared myself.
It hadn’t even been 24 hours and I was already feeling as ridiculous as Paris Hilton in an episode of The Simple Life. Though I’ve never even seen that show, I would have given anything to watch one of its reruns curled up in a luxurious bed in one of her granddaddy’s hotel rooms at this point.
At the time of posting this article most of my camping trip still lies ahead. Be prepared to hear in the next article how I embrace the outdoors, make friends with my neighbouring campers and bond with my family. Or, at the very least, survive the week and live to tell about a spider bite or two.
Lori Welbourne is a syndicated columnist. You can contact her or watch her Daily Dose videos at www.onabrighternote.ca.
