The kids and I had a pretty spectacular weekend camping in Canmore. I’d post pictures, but that would require digging out the card reader and that sounds like too much tech after a glorious (mostly) tech-free weekend.
I AM BASKING IN THE GLOW OF 72 HOURS OUT OF DOORS.
When was the last time you spent three consecutive days entirely outside?
I feel like I got a complete reboot.
I only had one episode of panic of being outnumbered 2:1 by small, needy creatures, but I tempered my expectations and powered through. Plain boiled pasta is a perfectly acceptable supper when it is 11 p.m. and you are cooking on a single burner campstove with one baby on your back and another who apparently has night vision. She must – how else could she be navigating tree stumps and bushes like that in the dark?
We drove down (up?) to Canmore on Friday to encroach on my friend’s campsite. Pitched a tent, had a campfire singalong (OF COURSE) and shivered through the first night. Spent Saturday strolling downtown Canmore and soaking up tunes and folk-festival-feelgoodness. YES. Repeated it on Sunday with added rain (OF COURSE) and wrapped up the spectacular weekend with pancake breakfast, dance workshop, and David Francey on Monday. Also, popsicles. Homemade, “artisan,” and so good I had to try every flavour. (Raspberry Hibiscus won out. OF COURSE).
There were random acts of high school acquaintances…
Said me to she: “You look like you’re having a lot of fun!”
Said she to me: “You look like you have a lot of responsibilities.”
There were random acts of Halifax musicians. Super Duper!
There were a billion Chariots in all directions.
There were bug bites and downpours and dancing. If it weren’t for the backdrop (towering mountains! Snow-capped peaks!) I could have been at the St. John’s Folk Festival. (Which is happening this weekend, y’all should go!)