Sunday at Wheatley

(I`m writing this directly into Blogger and not offline via crappy Polaris Office on Android, hence the correct spacing and free flowing text as I don`t have to keep re-writing when the Android app throws a wobbly and bins my work!)


Sunday indeed. Bright and sunny out and I`ll ignore the thick layer of frost on the car. As ever with Ontario parks, the bath house here is pretty good; a major buffeting from an excitable but warm shower sets me up well for the day. So "invigorated" am I that I don`t notice the cold on the way back to the trailer.


I've left Mrs T in bed and venture out, with hound and camera, on the photographic/poop/garbage expedition demanded of me. The dog comes up trumps only yards into the walk, which is a result, so it's off to the dumpster to deposit both poop and garbage. I lift the dumpster lid, chuck the garbage and "waaah!", there's a raccoon in there staring back up at me. The dumpster is big and deep and has very little in it, so this poor critter has snuck in under the lid, dropped down inside and can't get back out! There's no way I'm going into to release the beast so I call the Park's gatehouse and let the wardens know. The girl who answered the phone seemed quite unsure what to do but I now know I can walk away in the knowledge that I've done all I could do. If I'm camping further north, I shall be wary of bears in dumpsters I think, although it's be my guess that they could get out again. Hopefully!


Anyhoo, dog de-pooped and garbage deposited (before I'd seen the aforementioned Raccoon) means that I can concentrate on enjoying the Park. It being early in the season, the camping loops are quiet, except for the sites that back onto the creek, and they're full of towering 5ers and motorhomes; I guess if you can afford that kind of RV you don't mind paying the premium for the creek-side sites.


As the sun is getting higher, the temperature is climbing nicely and I'm beginning to think that we could be in for a rain-free weekend, only the second ever in the Airstream (or tent for that matter). 

Creekside at Wheatley. You have to pay a premium for this view from your trailer window.

Back at the trailer, things are stirring and Mrs T is ready for brekkie. We both settle down, me blogging, her reading and while away a couple of peaceful hours before lunch, which is surely the joy of camping. Even the dog is quiet. Kid-free weekends can be wonderful.


By the time lunch is served, the weather is so good that we sit outside and watch the world go by. The Cardinal that's been giving both the trailer and the car a hard time all weekend continues his work of trying to get both vehicles out of his territory - or is he just admiring his reflection in windows? - and we chat with occasional passers by and stop the hound from barking at everyone. It's all idyllic and just what we are looking for in camping weekends.


In no time at all it's time to start the packing procedure and get hitched up. We hadn't seen a car go by all morning so just as I maneuvered the car into position to hitch and momentarily block the road, a brand new Chrysler Town & Country minivan comes along and the driver looks panic stricken. There's more than enough room to get by but he says he doesn't want to scratch his car on the bushes and sits there wandering what to do - what a dope. Eventually I have to move my van because otherwise he's going to sit there the whole time we're hitching up; I sometimes worry how people ever get drivers licences. 


And there we were nosing out of the campground, via the shiny new dump station and heading home. A dry weekend, a comfortable weekend and both of us wishing for a day or two more. Sigh, there are always other weekends......

Wheatley on Saturday

Six-twenty. Argh! Hello dog.  
Nine-thirty. That's better. I don't often sleep that late but this morning I did, which was luxury itself. The dog wasn't hassling us, either, stretched out in a luxury state all her own. Mind you, my movement was the catalyst for the look that says ít's way past my breakfast time'. Up I get.
Saturday is gloomy and cold. The north wind has given way to an easterly and the temperature is stubbornly low. The hound doesn't care, though, as she wolfs down her brekkie and looks to me for the post-meal poop excursion. Hat and coat donned, we hit the campground trail; poop, pee, poop again - it must be the fresh air!  
We venture down to the lake front, across the alarmingly wavy bridge, and stand for all of ten seconds as the wind whips in off the lake and causes a cacophony of noise that spooks the hound. It's not doing my lungs much good either as they don't like being force fed icy air at 50 mph. I probably exagerate but it was a tad nippy there.
Back at the Airstream, we decide a run into Wheatley will do us good and set off in search of baked delights. Wheatley fails to provide said delights so it's off to Leamington, Tomato Capital of Canada, to try our luck there. With its Italian tomato growers, Mexican migrant workers and American Heinz processing plant, Leamington strikes quite a multicultural pose in deepest South Western Ontario. Alberto's European Bakery provided the bread and the Lakeshore Bakery provided the cakes, so we left Leamington fairly happy, if a little cold.  
Back at the Park, we stopped to photograph the Trillium, Ontario's Provincial Wild Flower, and very pretty it is, too. You see it growing beside the highway but we'd not been in amongst it before, and it was a treat to see spread out in front of us in the woods. Then it was time to indulge in the bread and cakes - well, you have to, don't you?
We took a more prolonged walk around the Park in the afternoon, back to the lake front (which was no less windy) and around the campground loops, partly to look at the sites and, of course, partly to eye up the other trailers. There area a couple of fifth wheelers here this weekend that look like two Airstreams, one of top of the other, so huge are they. I'm glad we're not towing such a thing around.
Whilst the weather certainly wasn't getting warmer, back on the campground we were at least sheltered from the wind and, keeping our coats on, we sat outside, had a hot chocolate and finished off the cakes; just in case they spoiled, obviously. Willow the hound was tethered on her 15' leash, patrolling the area, when she decided to start barking at some poor innocent passers by. I know she defends her territory at home but here? She obviously has a passion for staking our her own ground and protects it with a vengeance. Fortunately, said passers by were not concerned by the rantings of the demented dog and smiled benignly; well they would, they were the owners of the 34' Airstream parked around the corner.  
Supper was late in the evening, which had nothing whatever to do with us being stuffed full of bread and cakes from earlier, nothing at all. Well, maybe a bit. We finished watching the DVD we failed to finish the night before and decided to turn in at a respectable (for us) twelve-twenty.   The dog, who had spent most of the evening crashed out on our bed, was remarkably obedient and retreated to her own bed when we settled down, which was comforting. Anyway, the Airstream was warm and cosy and I don't think she was bothered where she managed to get her next batch of eight hours sleep.    
I've been moaning about the cold but I should mention that thus far, the rain has kept away. Sure, there were a few flecks in the wind but two days rain free? Too good to be true I reckon. What will Sunday bring? Rain? Hail? Snow? Anything is possible when the Toads are abroad!

The Trillium

Wheatley Provincial Park

So, the Airstream is all gussied up, restocked and ready to go. The kids are off with their dad and the dog is getting really suspicious about all the extra activity. It must be a camping weekend!   We're set for Wheatley Provincial Park, a new one for us, about 50 Kms south west of Chatham and on Lake Erie's shore. It's good to get out in the Airstream again, although I'm not sure what the dog thinks about it, and hitching up (in the dry!) was quite exciting, even if I did leave the keys on top of the propane tank cover, an error discovered (and rectified thankfully) a few hundred metres into the journey.  
The drive down was uneventful, which is always the best sort in my experience, and it was in remarkably quick time that we were positioned on site 134 with Towed Haul's legs extended and were munching our way through baked potatoes and baked beans. We do enjoy roaming in the gloaming so we took Willow out for a swift recconoitre of the place as the light faded, discovering a few trailers lurking amongst the trees (including a 34' Airstream Classic) and even a couple of tents about, despite the single digit temperatures. Willow the Crazy Greyhound was in sensory overload with all the new sights, sounds and smells; indeed, she wouldn't have ner nightly pee as she was so distracted by all the rustling and snuffling wildlife in the bushes round and about.  
Once settled inside Towed Haul, with the heating on, we loaded up a DVD and started to watch but, as is often the case on a Friday evening, we both started to doze off. It could have been the food, it could have been the beer, but it was probably exhaustion after our long day's spent with our noses on the grindstone. OK, it was the beer.  
Tomorrow is another day (an insightful saying if ever there was one) and we only have plans to find a local baker and plunder his cream cakes. I hope it warms up a bit, although I'd rather have cold and dry than warm and wet; or was it the other way round?

Expertly positioning to take on water