Went camping again, most likely the last time for the year. I’ve discovered that I’m too much of a city slicker to keep up with the others; I miss showering too much. The campground was nice, but the paved roads and washing machines sort of took away from the entire outdoors experience. Of course, we also had comfort stations, lighters, pre-chopped firewood, and fresh water taps, so it’s not like we were hardcore camping anyway. It’s good to be able to get away every once in a while, to places with no computers or cell phone service, but once or twice a year is enough for me.

The woods were great. Trees stood taller than any I’ve ever seen, and the made the surrounding areas thick with vegetation. The entire campground was gigantic, with multiple beaches, quiet areas, rock climbing, and cliff diving.

And Aaron pretended to be a trucker. The story behind the hat: Trolley got a free Hurley hat with a purchase he made. Trolley hates trucker hats though cause he can’t pull them off, and was going to sell it on eBay. Aaron saw it one day when he was over, and tried it on (cause he always tries on the most ridiculous things as a joke). Somehow it works for him, although the hat must be worn high on the head and slightly tilted to the right.

There once was a kitten who enjoyed sleeping in a little wicker basket on the top shelf of my desk. I bought her a green pillow that had a removable case, and stuffed it in the wicker basket so she would be more comfortable. She was very happy in there, with her birds-eye view of the entire room, and would spend hours upon hours in the lofty enclosure.

Soon, however, she noticed that the basket was getting smaller. It got harder and harder for her to jump in without knocking other things over. Eventually, she stopped sleeping in there altogether, as she outgrew the basket and wouldn’t fit in its sheltering walls.

Eventually, I moved the pillow to my bed, without the wicker basket, and the cat, no longer a kitten, resumed her naps there. The pillow, on the other hand, remained the same size, and no longer supports the sheer girth of the once tiny feline. However, she continues to enjoy sleeping on it, and has no problem accomodating for space restrictions with an uncushioned limb or two.

Went to Sandbanks on the weekend. The weather was good, but danced from one extreme to the other along the course of the day. It was Trolley, Tomacini, Kate, Adam, and Eric on one site, Aaron, Karen, Nick, Alison, and me on another about 20 paces away. It was quite a different crew from the one I’m used to, but definitely the one I was most comfortable around. These are the people who never ask for money, who talk to you like you’re family, whom you can depend on to find some orange juice if you’re having a bad trip. We only got in trouble one night, but we were admittedly loud. Our attempts to thwart such problems by introducing ourselves to neighbouring campsites proved fruitless, as we were informed that the noise we were producing was being heard in a larger radius than expected. I took up position as the token Asian guy (keepin it cool) and Adam resumed his usual role as the token homosexual (keepin it fresh). The weekend went by quickly.

Aside from steak, the best part of camping is the campfire. When the deciduous trees flicker orange and the stars normally hidden by the city light show themselves against the navy blue sky. There’s something about the heat and the atmosphere that puts the mind at ease. Nobody cares if one speaks too much or too little, puts on some headphones and listens to music, intoxicates, or pulls out a book and reads. It’s where everyone can do their own thing, together.

Sandbanks has an amazing beach with large sand dunes, which makes it one of the most popular campgrounds, as well as one of the hardest to reserve a site on (Trolley and I had this weekend booked since January). The sand is extremely soft and smooth, and the beach ended up being the only refuge for a loud group, especially at night. It’s also where Adam was paid to market Gatorade to the homosexual population (and the funny thing is, Adam did his absolute best not to look gay in the photograph, but succeeds only in the doing the exact opposite.) The caption for the magazines would be, “ALL I DID WAS DRINK THIS GATORADE AND HOT GUYS STARTED LICKING STUFF OFF MY LEGS!”.

Aaron made his contribution to the Ministry of Silly Walks.

At one point, Aaron and I had to steal some firewood from the other site. We decide to give them some flowers in return as a joke. Aaron just happened to pass by a bunch of daisies, and plucked them from the stem as we were leaving our area. Unfortunately, the entire plant became unrooted with almost no effort, from the flowers to the roots. After a quick twig-splint used to fix a mangled stem, we planted the daisies in the middle of the other campsite. They stood out considerably, since they were over four feet in height, with nothing else around but gravel and dirt. In return, Adam planted a little vodka garden outside our tents.