Camping Was Fun For This Puppy Lover

Although I’ve forgotten about him, the memory of the trip lives on.

Ellie Jacobson asks, “Tell me a camping story.” She said it could be about a love of camping, but my best camping story has an added dimension. One of my favourite camp-out trips involved a case of “puppy love.”

In 1980, my mother’s colleague invited her to camp in Tobermory, Ontario, one summer. She liked the idea, but only if I came along. Although the two shared a platonic relationship, I often wondered, did he want more? My mother was beautiful and genuine and recently divorced.

I had a crush on Sid (not his real name). So I looked forward to our adventure because, if nothing else, we’d all get to spend time together with a web of secret desires kept under lock and key.

We arrived at the campsite and set up our tents — one for the girls and the other for Sid. The tent was big enough for two, but things were going to get squishy.

Everything was dry when we first got there. Things were looking like it was going to be a sunny-filled weekend getaway aside from the dew.

There were many things to do at Cypress Lake. There was hiking, rock climbing, and swimming in the lake. We planned to partake in all three; lazing around wasn’t in the plans.

On our first night, we laughed and sang around the campfire. We guzzled ice-cold beer and watched flames sear fluffy marshmallows to a golden tint, the perfect treat for making s’mores.

When it was time to say good night, Mom and I retreated to our tent. We thought Sid had retired to his, but we soon learned that we were wrong.

We straightened our sleeping bags and noticed Sid lurking around the tent. He postured himself to look like a bear in the shadows. We snickered under our breath and couldn’t help appreciating his playful side.

Then, seconds later, we began screaming. Sid became frantic. He felt terrible thinking he had scared us, but once we urged him inside our tent, he saw the intimidating spider hanging overhead.

Like the valiant protector, he scooped the arachnid and tossed him out of the flap. I think my infatuation grew tenfold that night, but I kept it well hidden. I’m sure he didn’t notice. There was no point in embarrassing myself. Despite being nineteen years old, I was a kid in his eyes.

On the first crisp morning, Mom and I awoke to a glorious smell. What was that wafting past our nostrils and filling our tent? It was sizzling bacon! And was that Sid out by the fire, singing a cheerful tune?

Mom and I joined Sid for tasty bacon and scrambled eggs for breakfast. The coffee was delicious, even though it was instant. There was a drizzle through the trees, but it didn’t dampen our spirits.

Was breakfast each morning a sign of things to come? Sid was eager to shower Mom and me with his culinary talents. From breakfast to dinner, he had things under control. I was further smitten.

That day, we went to the lake for a swim. I remember the shimmer of the sun reflecting off the gentle waves and radiating off my face. My reddened cheeks resulting from that were a stinging reminder of the fun.

My mom occupied a raft on the water, and I pushed her. Slowly, we left the shore and headed out toward deeper water. When the water level reached the base of my neck, my mother suggested we turn back.

“Karen, we’ve gone too deep,” Mom said. “Remember, I can’t swim.”

At that moment, I stood up from my knees and showed her the water was only thigh level. We chuckled at my unintended trickery while marvelling at the shoreline off in the distance. Never had we seen a lake with such a large shallow end.

The next day, we saw rain. It was nothing major at first; it was a refreshing drizzle, so we donned garbage bags as rainwear and headed for a hike on the Georgian Bay trail.

Later, we scaled mountains without safety gear. Oh, what it is to be young and foolish.

On our last night, my boyfriend and his friends came to Cypress Lake and joined us. We feasted on ribs, chicken, corn on the cob, salad, and baked potatoes—a feast fit for royalty.

But then all good things must end — there’s always the clean-up.

That camping trip will always hold special memories for me. I loved spending quality time with Mom, Sid’s humour and attention, roughing it, and being pampered. Although Sid didn’t reciprocate my affection, sometimes the unattainable is what becomes the most appealing.

Here is the wonderful prompt.