Lacking the foresight to make any big plans for our time off
in July, an old buddy and I decided it might be fun to take our families
camping on a private little lake (large slough) near my hometown of Chauvin,
Alta. It was a hard sell to the wives, who made us promise to provide power,
running water and to fulfill our portion of the parenting duties for the
duration of the trip.
We pulled out on Monday afternoon, set up camp, cracked some
cold ones and watched the kids frolic in the water while we parents got some
much needed sun on our pasty bodies.
Once word of our Prairie camping event got out, several
other friends joined in, so by the third day of the trip there were half a
dozen trailers scattered around our makeshift site.
Music was blasting. Barbecues were smoking. The campfire was
blazing. Little kids were running everywhere. Before long, a full-blown redneck
family jamboree had broken out.
A few of the guys brought out their magnificent new boats
and treated us to some wake-boarding and wake-surfing action, so we were able
to enjoy a few hours on the water each day.
After much flailing and failing, I
managed to advance my wake-surfing skills from ‘raw amateur’ to ‘competent
beginner.’
On the third night, my wife left the campfire circle to
retrieve some snacks from the trailer. She startled me when she came sprinting
back, grabbed my arm and pointed back at the trailer.
“Get over there! Emergency! Do something!”
Once she had composed herself, she explained that she’d seen
multiple mice scurrying around inside the trailer. Considering her intense,
irrational fear of rodents, I feared the only course of action might be to just
burn the whole trailer to the ground – but fortunately it didn’t come to that.
I set a couple of traps, plugged a few potential entry
points and before long the trailer was mouse-free once again.
Our two toddlers had a fantastic week, smashing camp snacks
into their faces and running around like feral animals while exploring the
bushes and sandpits around our site. On the last night of the trip, I took my
son Grayson, 3, on a short ATV ride around the pasture. We stopped by the train
tracks and waved to a passing engineer, who rewarded us with a few short blasts
on the horn – an event Grayson is still raving about days later.
After five great days of hanging out with the old gang and
their new families, we packed up, cleaned up and headed back to Red Deer.
On long the drive home, I looked at the boys in the
rear-view mirror and asked, ‘Did you guys have fun camping?’
Our oldest gave a thumbs up and launched into a long,
abstract account of his week that included bugs, trains, marshamallows, bunk
beds, mice, swimming and playing with ‘cool friends.’
By that measure alone, it’s safe to say our little
last-minute redneck camping adventure was a resounding success.
Leo Paré is a former
Advocate editor. Email him at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at
twitter.com/LeoPare
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