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The Art Of Being A Great Canadian, Eh?- Part 3

By Grant Gibson
Posted May 23, 2012 in Lifestyle
Rain is a master of great trepidation to the great Canadian camping spirit. To master it requires ingenious wit and a great sense of twisted humor. Only a true Canadian knows this. With a true sheepish grin, the master watches the weather channel endlessly every day for a week prior to the joyful day of departure noting there is a large high pressure ridge blanketing the entire country. Slowly a reality check comes into play. When the day arrives for departure to your ‘special place’ you note a small ridge of clouds appearing low on the horizon. Being the master Canadian camper you are, in your mind you say ‘no way, that isn’t real clouds, someone is playing a joke eh, and further the weather channel has protected my special week of glory. Putting on the radio station to a distant channel enhances the experience of the drive as you proceed to that special land of Great Canadian Kings, the campsite. In this case, Sunridge Point Creek picked from many options because of the name, just in case. Upon arrival the first order of business is the Great Canadian tradition and corresponding camp ritual. The champagne of choice- into the cooler to pop the lids off the first round of many six-pack of good old Canadian beer. Joey six-pack has nothing on us Canadian boys, eh! Nothing happens around the site until ‘a few are kicked back’ to size up the kingdom and note what kind of residents you have in close proximity to the fee simple domain reserved especially with your name on it. A minimum of one hour must pass of pure gulping pleasure mixed with belching / gas releasing. This edges on the perpetual amusement of acting silly which every Canadian knows builds the energy form around the site before your entrance has formed your special valid spirited imprint. Then everyone in the group homes in on their area of ‘expertise’ in the duty of camp preparation; the design, positioning and placing of every piece of campsite material must be perfect. By the time the last flicker of the campfire signals and reinforces the coolness of the surrounding air the perfect plan is now in place, the perfect week placed into motion.
It is sometime in the middle of the night when you awaken to that first strange apparent sound somewhere towards the top of the tent. It is just a slight tickle of a sound. You know it’s a dream, a teaser, a fool playing with a master. A little time goes by…then another…then another…then some more. That cannot be…that can’t, that isn’t…that dreadful four lettered word that has been a thorn to more camp relationships, marriages, illnesses, food poisoning, you name it. Oh my god, it really is that god awful stuff…r…a…i….nnn!
The rest of the night is put into motion from planning where to keep the socks from getting soaked to not rolling in your sleeping bag to attract every molecule of H2O in the great heavenly Canadian skies destined for your campsite tent only. Then the great gods of the universe above Canada unfolds a new possibility from the raindrops into the mind with a great idea, no, plan, eh? Every great Canadian quickly embraces, no, knows, the only option truly available as restitution for such a state of affairs is to stay awake all night to be sure you are the first out to sneak out of the site quietly at first light to get the best seat in the local pancake establishment. Now that is where every smart Canadian camper knows to find true warm cup of coffee, all you can eat for under $10.00 Canadian loonies and a new sense of good old canadian worth. Never mind the tiny bit of redemption offered by your spouse and kids for this whole madness and plight of the search for happiness in the great Canadian wilderness to reinstate the master into his rightful place, slightly embarrassed but back in the saddle of kingship of his kingdom and true domain... the great Canadian wilderness. You know what I mean, eh? Stay tuned for more plights...

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