Camping weekend 2- Day 1

As we near our destination, Steve & I reflect on the previous weekend camping at a mountain bike festival, having running water, playground & surrounded by other campers, some we hope to never camp near again. I blurt a random statement, that sounded like an elderly lady, "I'm going to write about our adventures this summer on 'the blog' thing." Steve's response is a chuckle & "go for it."
We are headed to a private piece of land, that was once a boys camp in the 1950's. Its now an artist retreat for a few summer months a year & the owners have known Steve's family for a few generations and are nice enough to let his family continue to enjoy its beauty. We always pitch our tent close enough to the river to fish first thing in the morning & enjoy its soft flow at night (along with a frog and cricket lullaby).
I am a mildly experienced camper. I might be able to start a fire on my own, but there is no guarantee. I think I remember what poison ivy looks like, i know the rhyme! Leaves of 3 leave it be. I would prefer to have a toilet and shower, but I can't help feeling like a bad-ass once a year "roughin' it." My car is nearby, I'm not in the middle of the woods hanging a bear bag or navigating my way with a compass. It's as near to roughing it as I am willing to be at this point in my life.
It's been raining & the river is high. The kids are ready to jump in, not caring about the rapid current. Have to keep extra eyes on Odin, a 4 yr old with minimal fear and an adventure streak. Darby (aka D) feels that her experience in swim school will outmatch the pace of the rivers flow. Even with being denied access to their swim suits they have found other means of entertainment. Watching leaves and sticks flow under the bridge, and the ever classic  "throw rocks in the water".
Thanks to Steve's Dad bringing his weed-whacker my utter fear of getting my first tick is slightly calmed, for now.
Tent pitched, kids fed, book in hand. Aaaaaah.
3 hrs later. An unwanted monthly visitor. Of course, and no bathroom nearby, even better.
My loving husband helps his dad with the camper canopy and a I happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and a rush of water from the canopy rushes down my back. Cursing at Steve & laughter from us all sets the pace for a fun weekend regardless of any circumstance.

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