Pooch Guilt

Now here's a quandary. We've booked to go to a couple of Provincial Parks out of our immediate region, without the Tadpoles, but do we take the hound?

She's no great trouble when we're camping but she is a little limiting. We can't, for instance, wander into a little restaurant somewhere, nor a museum or a shop, at least not without one of us standing outside with the darling doggie. On the other hand, is it harsh to put her in kennels whilst we're out gallivanting? 

On balance, and knowing that we have a very good boarding kennel close by, we've decided to go dogless. Sure, it's not a cheap option, but Willow's previous stays at Fargo Ridge have been successful, and she is deemed to be a star by the owner, Mary-Lou, and her kennel team.

So, Willow gets to visit Mary-Lou for a week whilst we get some unfettered adult time in our lovely Towed Haul. I may not be so sanguine as I drop the hound at her hotel, but it is for the best.

What do others do with their hounds? 

Wheatley's Behind (Us Now)

A Local Campground For Local People

Sunday; waking up with seventy pounds of dog resting on your legs isn't something I'd recommend. She's hot and heavy, which isn't a great combination when you're tying to get some shut-eye.

So, Wheatley on a windy, wet, but warm morning isn't such a bad place to be. The awning was blowing about a bit so that was stowed, but not before putting the patio table and chairs away first. I'm getting better at this camping lark and realised that when I rolled up the awning, copious amounts of water and shredded foliage would drop onto the aforementioned chairs and table. I'm sharp as a tack, me.

People do like to make an early start and even at eight in the morning there was lots of activity with people packing cars and putting stuff away. We tend to take a more leisurely approach and even though we were planning on leaving slightly earlier than usual this weekend, we still had breakfast and ablutions to deal with and no one rushes us on those things. 

I don't often use the Towed Haul's shower, on account of there being a limited supply of water and a limited space to store it when used; the campground's showers are normally host to my daily lavatorial routine. However, as we'd abluted at home on the Saturday  we had water and tank space a-plenty so into the cubicle I went. Given that it all runs off the little electric pump that works all the water systems on board, the shower gives a remarkably consistent flow. The six gallon water heater seems to be plenty big enough and  the little device on the shower head that allows you to interrupt the flow for short periods turns out to be a real water miser, which is good, of course. All in all it's an excellent shower and I'm looking forward to all those full-service campgrounds in the summer when water and waste is plumbed from the outside and more or less limitless!

Breakfast of croissants and jam was dispensed with in short order and we set about "tearing down" the camp. I used the quotes because that's a local term and I always think it sounds a bit destructive; I tend to say "breaking camp", which is a tad more, er, English, don't you think? I'm so refined, as you know. We're getting quite good at tearing down and we were packed, hitched and ready to go in good time. That was until we hit the back of the queue for the dump station. You can't not dump your waste tanks as you mustn't leave poop or old shower water in said tanks otherwise your lovely Airstream starts to smell somewhat agricultural. There were no alternative dumping places nearby so we had to sit and wait. The big issue was the people in front of us who were allowing their dog to travel in their hot and bouncy trailer, and their women who had to travel in a separate vehicle to the men. The women sat in their truck behind their men for about twenty minutes before deciding that they could probably motor off ahead - I'm not sure why it took them so long to decide. The men, or one of the men, was new to camping and didn't negotiate the tight turn into the dump area very well, so his more experienced friend had him backing up towards us (panic!) then getting a better run at it. I guess you have to learn at some point but on a busy Sunday at the poop dump? Still, it was entertaining watching them go through the process, without gloves, which was nice.

So, some forty-five minutes, a few more mossie bites and a slick dump (if you'll excuse the expression) later, we were on our way. Wheatley is a lovely park and we'll be back there before long, I'm sure. We'll have to do something exciting next time, though, just so that I have something to write about. TTFN.

Still Local, Fortunately

The small Tadpole had camped with us overnight but this fine Saturday morning meant that she was all set to depart to Jasmine's birthday party back in Chatham. Don't speak it too loud but unwashed, we all piled into the Toadmobile and set course for home, via a McDonald's Breakfast I will admit. Once back at the ranch we ate (always first), washed and dressed and then dropped said Tadpole at her friends for her overnighter. We, on the other hand, made our way back to Wheatley, albeit via some delightful sandwiches in The William Street Cafe.

Back with Towed Haul, the weather had changed as the wind had come round from the north to the south west, bringing warmer temperatures but also some clouds. Not that it stopped us living it up on the patio mat underneath the awning, drinking and eating as is our wont. Yes, I did take the hound for a walk but other than that it was all systems camp.

Wheatley is a nice little Park. There are four campgrounds, only one fully electric and one partly electric; can you guess which campgrounds were the fullest? We Ontarians (and a few US visitors) do like our electrically powered home comforts. There were a few hardy souls out in their tents but mostly it was us trailer trash occupying the place. The sites themselves are, for the most part, roomy and flat even though after last week's rain some of them were a little boggy. Children have been very evident this weekend, skidding around on their bikes and generally having a good time. There is a beach here but it's at the base of a steep muddy bank and isn't, by any stretch of the imagination, a beautiful white sand strand, which is probably why the chief occupation here seems to be angling and bike riding.

The hound has been attracting attention, too. Variously mis-recognised as a Great Dane or a Whippet, she is always made a fuss of, even when she's being her most unfriendly. We're always asked if she's a rescue dog, which she is, but I'm far too polite to point out that all Greyhounds are rescue dogs; to be churlish isn't in my nature, so we smile and say yes, she a rescue. I think Willow enjoys these weekends away as she likes to gather new smells for her database and snuffle about in the weeds. That said, she's always quite keen to head back to Towed Haul and can get quite agitated if we take a turn away from our site rather than towards it. Of course, the way to tell that a Greyhound is OK is to watch the poop; if it's runny then she's stressing. I can report, dear reader (because I know you want to know) that all is well in that department.

Being active types, we both took a nap in the afternoon. We read, too, and we had a supper of Tortellini Soup and bread and even (gasp!) had a walk to the lake in the start of the evening's rain, hardy people that we are. The bugs have been busy this weekend and despite taking precautions, we're still mottled with bites; given the time of the season and the recent rain I suppose we shouldn't be surprised but itchy legs are the order of the day.

We decided to settle into the third season of Breaking Bad on the DVD in the evening, only to find that the disc wasn't in the box; cue disappointment on a grand scale. We did settle to watch old Denzil in The Manchurian Candidate and I enjoyed it so much that I slept through four fifths of it and suffered some staggeringly bizarre dreams into the bargain. Such is the life of the weekend camper.

Our final activity of the day was to walk the hound, which is always nice at midnight. Most of the campground was in darkness but there were a few people out under their awnings playing cards and inhaling wood smoke from their camp fires; there's no rowdiness, though, as these parks are patrolled and folks in this part of the world are mostly law-abiding. Mostly.

As we retired we knew that we were in for some rain in the night so I was hoping that it wasn't so stormy that I had to go out and fetch the awning in at two in the morning. Still, as I have already said, we're hardy folk and campers to the core so it's all part of the adventure, isn't it? I wonder if I'd be as positive whilst wrestling with the awning in the dark?  Let's have a quiet night, please!

Local Locale

We're on the road again, dear Toad fans, only this time just down the way at Wheatley Provincial Park. It's still lake-side but a few kilometres west of Rondeau, our usual weekend haunt. This was a last minute decision because I've only just returned from the Motherland and the smallest Tadpole has a 24 hour birthday party to attend; but that's the beauty of being in a local localem isn't it? We can drop the aforementioned sprog at the aforementioned party and head back to the peaceful setting that is the Provincial Park.

I hadn't had much of an opportunity to prepare Towed Haul so she was a tad scruffy, inside and out, as I hitched up and loaded the car in the pleasant sunshine. Twenty-two degrees Celcius is comfortable when labouring around the trailer and she didn't look too bad despite the lack of attention. So it was that we rolled into Wheatley at six-thirty, along with a long line of other happy campers. As I checked in, the young Park employee kept tell me how everything was "Ar-sum", including my signature apparently, and I knew we were in for a "great" evening because she told me; more than once!

Escaping the "Ar-sum" Gatehouse, I realised, dear reader, that I should have filled the fresh water tank prior to leaving home. Dragging 450 lbs of of water that short distance wouldn't have mattered and we'd not have been in a long line to fill up at the one and only tap! Hey ho, you live and learn.

We threaded our way through the woods to site 134 in the Middle Creek Campground and were happy that it looked spruce and clean. When we'd backed in, we opeted for a slight lift of the trailer's left-hand side by driving it onto the Lego blocks we have for that purpose, but I think we overdid it and we're now camped with a slight lean to the right. Stephen Harper would be proud of us. Another live and learn moment methinks.

It certainly was a lovely evening, and very English in that the temperature started to drop off and dew began to form as the sun began to set; often it stays hot at night in these here parts so it made a nice change to have a gentle northerly eddying around the site. I took the hound out for a constitutional and to eye up the other trailers and ended up talking to just about everyone I met; these Greyhounds are certainly discussion topics. The water in the creeks surrounding the campgrounds was very low, leaving big muddy banks visible, which made the place look a bit sad I thought. Mind you, the Snapping Turtles were out in force and enjoying sitting on the mud doing what Snapping Turtles do, which is probably snapping things; who knows?

We had Tuna Gloop for supper, washed down with Guinness, for me and the small Tadpole at least, which was very enjoyable; that could become a camping staple I think, providing Mrs T doesn't find it too fishy of course.

As so it was to bed, a la Wally Byam club rules - "Early to bed, early to rise". That we were knackered had nothing to do with it!

More to follow Toad fans. Saturday looks interesting, well it does to me, so keep an eye for for the next thrilling installment of this Captain's Log.

(A side note: I'm going to try inserting a photograph directly into the Blog using the camera on this Tablet PC. What are the odds that it will work, I wonder?)