Every year, we rent a cabin on a lake about 45 minutes from home. It’s an odd little camp. There are no beds, no stove, no couch. There is electricity, running lake water, and a refrigerator. The beach is spectacular!
We load up the family grocery-getter and pack off into the woods for a week. It’s the usual excursion, especially when you need to bring beds, bedding, cook wear, food, clothing, and gear for the five of us plus two dogs.
It’s worth it.
There’s no TV, no internet, no nothing of the sort. It’s great for the kids. We cook everything outside in cast iron pans, and make S’mores nearly every night. We come home smelling like fish and campfire smoke, and it takes nearly two weeks of laundry and scrubbing to get the stink out.
Still worth it.
Jake and camp are an interesting combination.
On the one hand, Jake hates the lack of routine, the removal from his favorite things and places, and the ability to get clean feet. They’re always covered in sand and pine tar. Nobody wears shoes at camp.
On the other hand, there’s nothing better for Jake than hours of swimming and kayak paddling. It’s in the snug fit of the life jacket, the pull of the paddles, and the feeling of relative independence and freedom as he moves further and further from shore. It’s the all-around compression of the water, and especially his dive mask, as he works on holding his breath.
There are some problems, of course. He relishes in the freedom of getting to do his own thing, but gets anxious when the other kids do the same. The “buggies” bother him, and he doesn’t like sleeping in a room that’s not HIS. This is assuaged somewhat by the fact that the whole family’s nest of cots is within eye (and ear) shot.
He loves peeing in the woods, and he doesn’t seem too too bothered by using the port-a-potty for his other business.
He hates wearing around a wet bathing suit, so he cycles between three or four. When he gets out of the lake, he just changes into the closest one to dry before he lopes around the camp yard.
He likes fishing, but hates to do it from the tight confines of a boat. He much prefers casting from shore.
We’ve got some sparklers that I’m hoping we can light tonight, and that’s always a crap shoot. Wish us luck.
I’ve got to work this week, so I’ll be relying on Beth for anecdotes, but stay tuned. I’m anxious to share in the experience.