All summer long, my dad has been trying to get me to go camping with him.
|Good morning, empty lake in the middle of paradise!|
I love my dad.
I love camping.
It's just that, when you are the captain of an army, the boss of the land,
the event coordinator for the group home,
you can't pick up and leave very easily.
I had to keep telling him no.
Finally, this past weekend, when he invited me once again, I had no good reason to not go.
My family rallied and sent me on my way.
Our first stop was the grocery store, which was an hilarious experience in and of itself.
Dad doesn't buy generic things and I'm used to buying by the truckload.
Also, Dad hates the idea of getting out into the middle of nowhere
and wishing he had a particular type of food.
The total came to $147 . . . for three meals . . . for two people.
He made me steak and I nearly cried.
Do you know how often I get steak?
It is too expensive for me, but a daddy spoils his daughter when he can.
We watched a campy western while we ate our dinner
because that's the kind of movie I watch with my dad.
After dinner, we needed something sweet.
"How did we spend $147 and not get any cookies?!" Dad pouted.
Not a sweet treat in the house.
And it WAS a house!
My dad isn't one for sitting around on vacations, so as a child, any time we went camping, the only way we could get to our destination was if we had a pack on our backs. Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall, we hiked or skied into the back woods to get away, literally, from it all.
Now, this old dude camps in a house!
It was the easiest tent setup ever. No broken tent poles, no forgotten sleeping pads, no roots digging into our backs, not even a tiny, one-burner stove to take 9 years to heat up our dinner!
He's gettin' soft, I tell ya'.
After our feast (wherein Dad did eat a pile of vegetables, Mom), we walked down to the lake.
It was still and clean and open.
It is a small lake, so noisy watercraft are not allowed.
I could feel my soul rejuvenating.
I slept awfully comfortably in a bed and the next morning,
Dad made his specialty:
Eggs, sausage, mushrooms, green onion, and cheese all mixed up together
with raisin toast on the side.
Clean up was quick and easy in his sink! and we were off, back to the water.
We paddled around the perimeter of the clear, deep lake.
The temperature was that of a perfect September day.
We have so many lakes in our area that water property isn't always unreasonably priced. That means many of our lakes are built up with fancy or enormous lake houses. You don't see many of the lake cabins anymore, the A-frame, one-two room types, that is. This particular lake had only those types. I loved coasting along the shore, looking deep into the woods to spy the mossy roofs, the pine-needle covered decks and the secluded fire rings.
That is me, a ways ahead.
For the record, paddling a kayak on a perfectly still lake is not difficult, whether you are 62 or 38.
He could have kept up if he had wanted to!
In fact, he did eventually catch up and we moseyed our way back to the truck.
It was a restful, enjoyable 18 hours or so.
Thank you for your persistence, Dad. Thank you for finally getting me out there.
I loved it.
I love you.