I’m not much for camping, having already gotten it out of my system in a former life. Unlike most vacations where you leave everything behind, camping requires you bring it all with you. The food, the accommodations, the bug spray. And you leave all the amenities behind. Hot showers, electricity for reading at night, ice cubes.
Nevertheless, Earl and I leave tomorrow for a style of camping I find most rewarding and relaxing. We’re taking our annual few days at Wollaston Lake Lodge in upper Saskatchewan. It’s a fishing lodge plunked in the middle of northern Canada several hundred miles from the closest paved road. But, it’s directly under the Aurora Borealis so there’s the potential of a nightly firework show presented by the Creator. I’d give up hot showers for that.
Except I don’t have to. This lodge is definitely five stars. We have our own cabin replete with hot showers, electricity, and ice cubes. In the main lodge, we have a chef who prepares gourmet dinners and a staff that does the dishes. Should I also mention the masseuse and the pre-dinner appetizers and the hot coffee delivered to your cabin in the morning?
Each day is occupied with fishing with our own guide in our own boat. At lunchtime, he cooks a meal fit for a king over a campfire, while we loll around taking in the scenery. If we want a beer, it’s there for the asking. If we want second helpings of anything — beer or victuals — they’re available too.
This was all Earl’s idea, because he wanted to fish in northern Canada while I preferred to visit museums in big American cities. So he researched various lodges and came up with Wollaston because it was “female friendly.” The first year we went, I was skeptical. But, after five days in the pristine wilderness, I was the one who signed us up for a return visit before we left to come home.
We live on the St. Joseph River in Michigan, and I would no more drink that water than I would drink sludge. But when we were at Wollaston we could dip a cup into any body of water we were fishing in and have a wonderful, cold drink. That’s what real camping, regardless of the accouterments, is about.
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