Stolen weekend

It should not have been so nice. Unheard of. The air was so warm, you didn’t need another layer as we scooted along the lake. There was not a drop of rain.

Must be hard to guess where I was, surely nowhere near the Coast. Yet, only 3 hours from door to door. A place where you can cross into the USA and not need a passport.

Web_Floating stall

Ross Lake campground is on the Canadian side, nestled into the North end of Ross reservoir. The mountains rise sharply from the lake like fjords, along all sides, so crossing into the USA is not possible. All the park rangers for the US camp sites come around through Canada to enter their park. (A weird piece of trivia).


The reason so many people visit this park, is the ability to enjoy the back country in a relatively pristine state. Something that is becoming harder to find in North America and impossible in Europe. It is areas like this that we treasure.

Web_Glacier water

We went early Saturday morning. Friday night was a pre-teen dance that could not be missed. Gone are the days when the adults set the schedule. However, we managed to be up early and arrive by mid morning. The sun was warm and welcoming.


But something else was waiting for us. The mosquitos. Oh my gosh, these were crazed little bugs. They gathered in swarms and could fly faster than you could run. Clearly they had missed the memo – it is too late in the season for such vicious insects. (Just had to stop and madly scratch my ankle). Apparently the mosquito takes no notice of the date on the calendar….hello…it is September, back to school, no biting insects allowed! (have to stop scratching soon, there will be blood otherwise).

Web_fall leaves

After the blissful hours in the sun and running the gauntlet back through the forest path to our camp, the typical evening rituals were enjoyed. Nice smoky fire, cooking dinner on a stick, swapping stories. It was most pleasurable to hear my children tell their jokes and indulge us in their secrets learned in camp and other places over the summer.

Then it was winding down. Time for bed. This is the part of camping that always makes me so happy to be home. But my husband insisted that we sleep in our HH Warm baselayer, sleeping bags and extra wool blankets. Once I was in my cocoon, I found it extremely comfortable.

I guess the expectation and preparation for bad weather, the menacing bugs, the love of nature and the need to spend time outdoors, are all things that make us Canadian. In fact, it is probably what most people have in common, or at least the ones that are lucky enough to experience it.


4 thoughts on “Stolen weekend

  1. Reading this makes me want to find my sleeping bag and head out! We have salvaged enough firewood for a good blaze in the new fire pit; but have to be able to stay up late enough to enjoy it. Hasn’t happened yet – 😉

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