Da Do Ron Rondeau (Again)

Tuesday

Hot, hot, hot. It can't last. Loading and hitching not only in the dry but in the heat meant that perspiration was the only thing getting my t-shirt wet; hurrah!

Taking four bikes, all the food we needed for the entire trip and a tank full of fresh water meant that we were as heavily loaded as we were ever going to be and we readied ourselves for the second trip of the year to Rondeau Provincial Park, only 37 Km away but the home of great beaches and swimming from the original (well, maybe not original) dock of the bay. It took us an age to get to the point of leaving, not very well aided and abetted by two very lazy Tadpoles who's idea of helping was to look glum and reluctantly ask if there was anything they could do. It's no wonder Mrs T and I are always exhausted on the first night.

On this trip, I was trying out an adjustment to the weight distributing hitch, in order to get the back of the Sienna a little higher. Canada's towing guru, Andy Thompson, had sent me a photograph of how to make the adjustment and had suggested a two-thirds link uptake. Naturally I knew better and only did one-third and guess what? Once on level ground, it turned out that the great Mr Thompson was right! We were sitting better, but not quite right. That'll be something to do on our return I think.

So, off we went in glorious sunshine and temperatures above 30 degrees Celsius, which for us was a first.

We know Rondeau well and cruised around to our designated camp site. It’s a shame that we didn't know the individual plot so well, though as it turned out to be quite small, on an uphill and sideways slope, with an access area that didn't allow us to put the trailer at the best point on the plot. It was pretty busy there and there wasn't a lot of hope of swapping sites so we looked at it as a parking challenge and, after much too-ing and fro-ing and using a heap of levelling blocks, we arrived a sufficiently level attitude. We won't be booking site number 46 again!

We were all feeling the heat by the time we were unpacked so we set off for the beach and some cooling lake water. Because it was late afternoon there weren't many people on the beach and we were delighted to find that the lake was really quite warm. The Tadpoles were off in a trice and we old 'uns paddled, as old 'uns are wont to do. I'd forgotten the sand flies that nip your legs incessantly if you're more than a few feet from the water so the (increasingly frail) camp chairs were placed at the edge of the water where we could both paddle and sit at the same time. Isn't getting older wonderful?

Sitting AND paddling

Supper that evening was a meal prepared a few days earlier that just needed heating through; excellent stuff for the first night. We'd rigged the bug tent and sat in there where there were marginally less bugs than outside. I do love camping but the flesh piercing insect world is really an irritant, in more ways than one (he says, scratching one of the many bites on his beautiful, Adonis-like legs). I'd also arranged an electric light in the bug tent and that, of course, had insects bashing themselves on the outside of the tent in an attempt to get in. Still, with a smoking mosquito ring and an industrial sized tin of spray (what does DDT stand for?) and we kept most of the insects at bay.

Night time was a bit sticky. We eschewed the air conditioner as it sounds like a jumbo jet taking off, and relied only on open windows. Yes, it was a sticky night. I'm not complaining, you understand, it's just that we have never had to moan about it being too hot before, so this was an entirely new experience for us.

Wednesday was, according to the Weather Nitwits, to be hot but with a chance of a thunderstorm. How accurate were they to be? Read on, dear Toad Fan.

Wednesday

The sticky night was followed by a sticky morning but, with the aid of excellent showers provided by the Park, we were all as fresh as daisies in no time. Such was the warmth that when the Tadpoles surfaced (eventually), we went straight off to the beach, afeared I think that the weather might turn. Well, the beach was hot but the water most definitely not. Some how in the night, the lake's currents had changed and moved some seriously cold water our way. Indeed, icebergs would have felt quite at home in there. This was now wet suit country and my luxuriantly hairy chest was no substitute so I settled for paddling again.

Back to the trailer for lunch (that certainly beat carrying it to the beach) and then we were off to the bay so that the Tadpoles could jump off the dock. The bay is a little inland lake, off the main lake and is shallow and warm, hence the swimming. Sometimes it's quite sheltered there but today the wind was fairly tearing across, albeit that it was warm and sunny. The dock protrudes about 100 metre into the bay but even at the end the water is only about four and a half feet deep, so is relatively safe for the little 'uns to swim. The Park has conveniently provided ladders to climb out of (or into) the water but kids are encouraged to just jump in, from a height of about six feet, which is good fun and the reason that most of the kids from the camp site were there. Still, it's fun to watch, especially the likes of the life jacket clad four year old who, having mastered jumping in, decided she wanted to have a go head first. Her supervising adult in the water nearly had heart failure but the kid bobbed up laughing, telling everyone how good she was at belly flops. Bless. Even I had a go, at swimming that is, I don't think the water is deep enough for an old git like me to be jumping in to.

Camping domesticity

The rest of the day stayed warm and we went back to the beach, twice. On one of the trips, a pair of relatively immodestly dressed (this is Canada's Bible Belt after all) young ladies, probably about 14 or 15 years old, decided to cavort in the water close enough for the big Tadpole to take some notice. One of them made her way to the water's edge and sat coyly playing in the sand whilst eyeing said Tadpole up. The other young lady wasn't so keen on this horribly unsubtle move and made her way back up the beach, leaving the one frolicker disporting herself (in a demure way) for the benefit of the boy. Two things jarred, though; one was the fact that the young ladies in question would be horribly disappointed to find out that the big Tadpole is only 12 and the other was the small Tadpole yelling out all sorts of inappropriate comments for the benefit of the young ladies. I withdrew both Tadpoles from the fray and later, when big Tadpole had been made aware of the female courtship display put on for his benefit (because he was the only one who hadn’t noticed), said nothing as he suddenly decided that he would make a trek to the beach on his own.  He didn't find his young ladies but it was fun to watch the upfront display and the subsequent failure of communication. To cheer up the forlorn Tadpole, we had an ice cream from the Park Store; well, you have to, don't you? Throughout all this, poor old Mrs T had been suffering from some chronic tooth ache, which was a real dampener for her and meant that she'd missed out on a much of the fun. The Tadpoles later discovered that it's not good to cross a Toad with toothache – words were spoken!

I took the opportunity to cycle around the camp site and eyeball the other trailers. This being the first week of the school holidays there were lots of families about, most in the pop-up type trailers with accompanying tents. A lot of these people tow with mini-vans and I'm always amazed at how much stuff they can disgorge. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you about one pop-up that had outside three laden tables, a tall shelf crammed with food, a full sized fridge, a microwave and a toaster oven. And that doesn't count all the other detritus like garbage bins and beach equipment. All this appeared to have all come out of one Chrysler mini-van! Maybe it was a magic mini-van? There was also a fair smattering of older trailers, alternately spotted green with mould and red with rust. The occupants of these, I think, were fishermen, set in for a couple of weeks of serious pescatorial pursuits. There were a few posher trailers, owned by nan and grandad by the looks of it (the sign “Nan and Grandad’s Trailer” might have given it away), taking the kids on holiday. Some of these senior folk are fearless!

With the welcome but unaccustomed heat, we did get a system going with the air conditioning that evening, cooling the trailer whilst we were outside and using it again just before bed time, thereby saving our eardrums and being able think a bit whilst being roundly trounced by the kids at Yahtzee and Uno. We may be beyond shakedown trips but we're still learning.

On our final trip the beach that evening, the big Tadpole remarked on how the waves were coming ashore at a different angle and sure enough, the wind had changed direction. We'd seen some storm clouds earlier in the day and even the tell-tall grey wall of rain in the distance. But now this new wind was clearing the sky and, as it would turn out, any prospect of a storm. Not being the entirely trusting kind I did batten down my hatches, though, using a couple of guy ropes on the big awning and putting away anything not bolted down. Need I have made these preparations? You'll have to read the next thrilling instalment to find out.

Thursday

Well, what a difference a change in the wind makes! Having put the duvet away and cooled the trailer down, I spent Wednesday night and Thursday morning in bed feeling cold. There's no pleasing some people, eh? The temperature had come right down and I awoke (quite often) to a clear blue sky through the fan opening and what felt like a cold breeze coming in through the windows. I lasted until 7 am before climbing out and heading for the shower block, thankful for the chance to stretch my back a bit. It was indeed a bright, fresh morning with very dewy grass and apparently few people about. I found out where the people were when I arrived at the shower block, though, it was teeming! Have I mentioned how early Canadians like to be for everything? Well, they do like an early shower because it was like Piccadilly Circus up there, not helped by the fact that the cleaner had just turned up. I nipped into the one free cubical before she did and heard her tut as she rattled the door trying to get in. Actually, I have no complaints about the cleaning regime at this park, it's really very good. I still struggle, though, with the thought that if you decide to clean the showers at 7 am, you are going to find people trying to use them!

As a fix was urgently required for her Hampsteads (Cockney rhyming slang – Hampstead Heath = Teeth) , I waved Mrs T off to the dentist at 8 am (she may find her way home from here but will she ever find the campsite again?) and settled down for some battery charging (me, not the laptop). I left the Tadpoles slumbering, made myself some coffee and sat back to ponder life, the universe and why the shower heads in the cubicles would be much better sited on the opposite wall.

Rousing the spawn at ten, we set off for the beach in the sunshine, wondering what the change of wind might have brought us. Certainly it hadn't brought many people as the place was all but deserted, but it had brought back the warmer water. It's truly amazing how the water temperature can switch so sharply like that. It still wasn't bath temperature but it was sufficiently warm to get me in and swimming. The wind had whipped up some feeble waves, making things a touch more interesting, and we proceeded to wade and swim out about 100 metres from shore before we were out of our depth. There was also only a surface current taking us inshore so it was safe and fun out there in the lake. The Tadpoles speculated about whether or not Mrs T would have immersed herself in this balmy delight but all I could imagine was her saying “Aaaaagh! You mean the water's still not as hot as my shower?”. I said that no, she probably wouldn't.

Swimming in lake water is never a delightful experience for me. Close in and it looks like cloudy lemonade with a green tinge. A little way out, the cloudiness goes but it only serves to emphasise the green. I know that it's only in certain weather conditions that the bacteria get really nasty but it's always there in the back of my mind, taunting me.

We gave up on the beach as the hunger pangs took hold and headed back to Towed Haul for lunch. Still no sign of Mrs T but clamorous Tadpoles do not want to wait. Mrs T did bowl up eventually, drugged up to the eyeballs and beginning to look particularly cheerful. Ah, chemical relief can be wonderful.

The afternoon was taken up with another beach expedition where we discovered both the missing people from the beach from this morning and that the wind had changed again. The evening’s supper was from the backwoods, cooked over the open fire in which we had placed yet more gold plated firewood. I know that the Park benefits from the proceeds of the sale of firewood but people don't like forking out $6.50 for a small bag so tend to bring their own, which then works against the Park because of the very real threat of an infestation of an invasive and hostile tree killing bug. Emerald Ash Borer, you know who you are!

A very handsome trailer

At this point I was reluctant to think about the weather on account of it being uncommonly dry thus far and the forecast predicting more of the same. As our evening nocturnal walk amongst the fireflies and rabid mosquitoes came to a close, the thunder started to roll and lightning flashed in the distance (actually the lightning came first, obviously). There was nothing in the forecast to suggest a storm but the big Tadpole insisted on leaving the skylight blind in the trailer open so that he could watch the storm whilst in bed; I tidied the camp, just in case.

So far on this trip we'd had no rain at all; would we survive the night? It wasn't looking good. Read on, Toad fans, the big climax (!) is tomorrow!

Friday

No rain! A very quiet night gave way to another fresh morning with steadily climbing temperatures. We wondered if we should head off to the beach one last time but everyone seemed happy to mooch around the campsite prior to packing the trailer and heading out.

Because Mrs T was still suffering with her teeth, she had to sit out all the hitching up fun whilst the Tadpoles used the Walkie-Talkie to direct proceedings as we hitched. I’d had to take a big pair of shears to some of the bushes that flanked the exit point to Site 46 otherwise the side of the trailer was going to get all scratched up as we turned out. I don’t like to hack down Park vegetation but it was either that or big insurance claims. It really was a tight turn getting out and I’ve made a point not to book that site again, it wasn’t good at all.

Then we were off to the dump station, the last and least popular task for all trailer users. There is something cathartic about getting rid of the poo but it’s still a stinky job. I blanched as I realised I only had flip-flops on my feet, which are a big no-no when using the dump station. Needless to say, I was very, very careful.

The run back home was easy and the backing on to the drive was the best yet; straight on in one fluid (if slow) movement, parallel to the grass and perfectly positioned. We almost look like we know what we’re doing!

We had NO RAIN on this trip, our seventh in Towed Haul so far. No rain! As you can see, I’m quite excited. Will it happen again, I wonder?

We have a couple of weeks before the big trip, seventeen days to Florida and back, incorporating many different stops on the way there and on the way back. We might just need the next couple of weeks to get ready!

Keep watching for further tales of the nomadic toads.