Today, when snow and ice are on the ground and the wind is blowing (it’s December 29) my mind wandered to several summers ago, when we traveled to Killbear Park in northern Ontario for a long weekend. My memories of Killbear Park reach far back, to when my parents were very young. They ran with a group of friends who all had young children and camping was such an easy way to give the kids (and adults) a wonderful summer break with water, sand, fresh air, sunshine, and room to run and play.
I say easy, but I remember that the lead up to departure date was fraught with lots of organizing and packing. There was a long list, and my father, after testing the tents out on the lawn and making sure that the car had been checked for gas, oil and and whatever else needed doing, sat patiently in the living room until my mother had given the green light that the last tin of food, table cloths and towels had been packed, and we were ready to go.
The Drive up was almost as wonderous as the actual camp grounds. Living in the city meant that we rarely saw this different topography. It started with the long highways and slowly transformed into wetlands and Canadian Shield rock and pine trees. I loved the stops along the way at the rest stations where we could stretch our legs and get a drink. We were so full of anticipation. As we got closer and closer there might even be a Moose sighting. It was all very exciting.
Once we arrived, my father would begin the task of setting up the sleeping tent and the dining tent (with only screens on the sides so that you could keep out mosquitoes yet still see the beauty all around you), and my mother would unload the car and start beautifying the campsite (she had a way to make even a campsite seem glamorous). We had a mirror hanging from a tree for washing up, flowers for the picnic tables and a mat for wiping our feet before entering the tent, clothes lines for hanging wet clothes and flashlights and lanterns for the night walks and coolers for food and drinks, wine and beer.
My sisters and I, and the other children, needed nothing more than a pail and shovel, bathing suits and our bicycles. The adventures were in our heads and all around us. After a full day at the beach, we washed up, had dinner and were tucked into our sleeping bags to fall asleep to the sound of the adults laughing and telling stories around the campfire. It is to this day, one of my happiest memories.
Several years ago, we traveled back to Killbear Park for a weekend, to try and replicate the magic. It was not hard to do. The beach, the smell of campfires and pine, and the cliffs where the older children would jump from into the water far below each evening while families congregated to watch the sunset together, were all still there. We will return again one day.
