It has taken almost a full day, but I am finally starting to feel relaxed - camping is working its spell. Perhaps I need a prescription for that! Hummm... I wonder if full-time rving would do the trick, or would it become the same as regular life in a sticks and bricks?
No deer on our walk this morning, but LOTS of deer flies. I hate deer flies, and so do the dogs. Luckily there have been only a few at our campsite. The majority of the walk is very relaxing as we pass no campsites (once we get to the other road), and today there were no bikes, nor any vehicles. We also saw a few gaggles of geese with their goslings. Not close enough to take a photo, although I did have my camera slung across my chest. The walk is less than an hour, but the dogs are showing their age, and lack of fitness. I'm not sure how the walking will go at Presquille this summer - some of the hikes we normally take are pretty long. We'll all have to get onto the treadmill!
We didn't let the excuse of camping keep us away from our dance class tonight. We drove the extra distance (and passed 3 deer on our way home), so that we could be humiliated yet again. Tonight the young woman wasn't there, instead the young man's mother took her place. We'd seen her at the dance studio before, and it was obvious that she knew some steps. I felt older than ever - I'm pretty sure she is younger than me...
This afternoon a trailer came in across the way from us with just one person; Carm was talking with the camp host who told him that the fellow's wife had passed away a few years ago, so now he camps on his own. I made a point of going over later to ask him if the dogs had barked while we were out for a bit (they didn't), just to start up a conversation. It turned out that he knew the people in the next two sites, in fact used to camp with them with his wife. He was waiting for the two couples to come back from their day trip... hoping that they'd be glad to see him.
As the evening progressed I caught sight of him standing just outside the circle of friends, part of the group, yet separate. When the group dispersed for supper, he went to his camper alone, bbq'd his supper, then disappeared inside to eat by himself. The sight of his camper's bedroom window cracked open caused a wave of sadness - he'd be going to bed alone, with not even a dog as a companion.
So often we go though the motions of our life without thought of what we have. We take things for granted. Would I camp if Carm was no more? I certainly wouldn't keep this giant camper, but what would I do instead? On the surface I think that I would continue to camp, but imagining myself in our neighbors place I'm not so sure that the loneliness wouldn't kill me.