We've already been back from our week-long camping trip for 5 days, and yet I keep putting off writing about it. Part of the reason is because I forgot my camera, so all the photos are on my sister's camera, and I don't have the files yet to post along with my entry. But the bigger reason is that there is just so much involved in writing a post of this magnitude that I really don't know where to start.
I guess I could start with 21 years ago. That was the first time I went to Six Foot Bay. My Nana and Poppy took my sisters and I for a couple of weeks to this camping/mobile home/golf resort. Two years later my Poppy passed away, but Nana continued to take us, for the next 10 years. I have so many wonderful memories of those vacations, and to be able to take my own boys was another memorable experience.
The campground is much the way I remember it. I knew immediately what was the same and what had been changed (most notably the addition of a salt-water pool - yay!). I could write paragraph after paragraph as a travelog, but instead I will just include some impressions that I have been left with.
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I rediscovered my circadian rhythm. Our bodies are tied, without a doubt, to the rising and setting of the sun. I enjoyed lying in bed as the sun was just about to come up, listening to the symphony (cacophany?!) of birds. It was more than a chirp and a caw from a few different varieties; this was entire flocks coming together to herald in the morning. I thought it was beautiful. James moaned at being robbed of another few moments of sleep before the boys were up. I recall the first morning laughing silently until I ached as James gave a sarcastic commentary to the birds' performance.
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One of the best things about my years at Sic Foot Bay was the friends I made. The first day we were there Colin met a little boy, 4 years old, named Cole, who was camping beside us. The two were joined at the hip for the rest of the week. They played and created and laughed and conversed seriously, living exclusively in the magical world that belongs to one who is four. When we drove back into the campground on the second last day (having gone to my Nana's to escape a storm) and we saw Cole's camper gone, all of our hearts broke. They had left a day early because of the weather, and Colin had not had a chance to say goodbye. I was teary myself at his loss.
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I took along my guitar, and although it was too hot for campfires (it was hitting the mid 40's with humidity!) I did manage to pull it out now and then for a few songs. It didn't quite have the same effect I was hoping for, but I love music in any form, in any place, and so I enjoyed it nonetheless.
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Much of the time was spent in a lazy, loose schedule that revolved around mealtimes and swim times. Our minimalist camp style meant that there wasn't tons to do to keep tidy or clean up from. It made me long for a simpler existence at home. Bigger home + more stuff = more to clean.
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I used cloth diapers for much of the time. It was much easier than it sounds. When one was wet or dirty, I rinsed it out and laid it in the sun to dry before packing it away for washing. One mid-week wash was all that was needed to top us up. I'm fairly committed to cloth diapering now for Caleb, although I still haven't been converted for Benjamin. Breastmilk poop 6 times a day is not conducive to cloth diapering, in my opinion.
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Although I sorely missed the sand beach that had been done away with, the new addition of the pool was fantastic. To everyone else's dismay, but to my delight, the temperature of the pool was warmed nearly to a cool bath temperature. I am not one who likes to be cold, and pools generally send me into an immediate shiver. This one, however, was delightful, which meant that I spent much of the week swimming. It was a blast to swim with my boys, watching Colin paddle and kick as hard as he could to keep up with his friends, seeing Caleb go from clinging to my arm to jumping into the water on his own. Even Benjamin enjoyed nestling in the crook of my arm while I waded around, or sitting in the wading pool and splashing up a storm.
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Despite the late nights (no one could even try to sleep until the sun went down and the tents cooled), Caleb was still rising with the sun. Each morning I would rise with him and Benjamin and we would walk the campground. We fed Fruit Loops to the fish (who didn't eat it) and a chipmunk (who didn't eat it). We played at the park. We had serious conversations sitting out on the pier. We ran about on the mini-golf greens. We even beat all the joggers and golfers out. It was a serene and peaceful time to be up.
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We enjoyed several Kawartha Dairy ice creams. If you have not tried it, you have not eaten real ice cream. They have a myriad of flavours available. About 10 years ago I discovered Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake. Whenever we visit the Dairy in Bobcaygeon, I generally get this flavour. Often before arriving, I try and convince myself that I should try something different, but it never works. Now I know why. My first cone this time I decided to branch out. I was sorely disappointed. I have arrived at the conclusion that there are not that many flavours so that we change it up each time. They have created that many flavours so that everyone will be able to find that one flavour that is perfect, that is the exact combination of ingredients that sends your tastebuds into a state of ecstasy. There isn't any point in trying anything different - nothing will please my mouth so much as a bite of Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake. I had a second cone last week just to make up for my erroneous choice.
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Much of the days were passed in conversations. It's funny how as a kid I can remember passing the days in play. I had a vague notion that the adults were all just sitting around, but I didn't pay them much attention. Now, as an adult, I understand what they were doing. At different times during the week I found myself one on one with different family members, or in small groups, or all gathered together, doing nothing more than shooting the breeze. I didn't feel any pressure to make every minute count during this brief visit of my parents from Australia. We all simply fell into a way about life that was just the same as when we all lived together growing up. That is what family is all about.
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All too soon the week came to an end. I will remember it always, stashed along with my previous memories there. I learned on the last day that next year there will be very few camping spots available, as they convert for space into little cottages. It may even be that we never get back there again. I am grateful we were able to get up there this year as a family (my parents, my sisters, my kids) and create one more memory.
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