Kerri and I went to Algonquin Provincial Park for two nights earlier this week. Our site was on Kingscote Lake, at the southernmost tip of the park. Many firsts, that trip.
I will freely admit that the realisation that we were utterly alone freaked me out. The nearest dwelling was only 7km away, but it seems like a million miles when you are in the middle of a forest at 1am. Kerri kept mentioning she was scared that some kind of crazy serial killer was hiding somewhere in the woods. It sounds totally ridiculous of course, and it's clearly a result of being raised on 80s teen horror movies. On several occasions I thought the exact same thing, as it turns out. But I never said anything, because I thought that if I did, then the two of us would be completely hysterical. What freaked me out more, and what kept me up for part of the first night, were the strange animal sounds I heard outside the tent. Scurrying about, little animal noises, and at one point something actually brushed against the tent. Likely it was a field mouse or a chipmunk, but when you're high and sleeping in a tent in the middle of a very authentic Ontario forest, it's possible that the mind wanders.
Good times, though. Rained like mad during the second night, but that didn't stop us from crawling out of our tents and roasting some weiners on the fire that was slowly getting doused out. I friggin' love barbecued hot dogs.
August 26, 2004 03:12 PM PDT
man, I'm with you on that campfire-dog thing.
now, if i could only find some good hotdogs somewhere on this godforsaken island.
August 24, 2004 09:43 AM PDT
Camping can be like that! I haven't camped since I was a kid, unless you consider times in the Army camping.
And now I'm hungry.
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