Of caves, smoke, rain, and 'coons

Life and limb intact, I am writing this post from the warmth and safety of my bed. What a delightfully dry and stable place bed is! I'd never before contemplated its lack of damp, but today that is the characteristic I am most grateful for.

This story begins at least a month ago. For my job I was required to take a group of young teens camping for a night. My two colleagues (I'll call them Cristiano and Joe) and I wanted to find someplace that would offer a real camping experience - surviving by our wits, cooking over an open flame, battling the mosquitos and horseflies and all. We found a place that offered the added bonus of cave exploration as well and reserved a spot right away. As I began to do some research into this place, I also began to panic a little. I thought these would be caves...you know...Batman. Large. Sure, dark and all, but large. As I saw pictures, and read stories, it became clear that these caves were not going to be what I expected. These caves were going to be stoop-over-watch-your-head-duck-under-water kind of caves. Not terribly appealing to a clausterphobe!

Because I am truly dedicated to my job (my boss reads this and I'm looking for brownie points here) I decided to attempt the hike to and through the caves on my own. It made sense that one of us knew what we were doing before we brought the young people along. (The real reason was that I needed to find out if I would end up making a fool of myself in there by freaking out). It was a very hot and very humid day, and it threatened to rain the whole time. It never did rain, but it sure was a long walk through that steam bath, through the clouds of mosquitos and clydesdaleflies (one step up from horseflies). What I'd read online was that it was an easy walk. On that day though, the hills seemed near vertical ascents, the slopes should have had handrails, and the hour seemed to stretch on for days. The last kilometer was nearly entirely uphill, with rough stairs cut into the hillside. The cave wasn't terribly well marked...I was looking for a big entrance you could just walk through, but it turned out you had to scamper down a rocky incline like a mountain goat, stoop under a rocky overhang, wade through water and so on, just to come out about 50 feet away, soaked to the waist, and having to clamber up another mountain side, only to have to tackle the hour-long trek back to the starting point. I endured it all...except I wasn't able to get myself down into the cave.

I went back to the office two days later, and told the boys (Cristiano and Joe) what I had discovered. (I'd spent the entire previous day in a hot bath, trying to encourage my body to become mobile again) I was imagining bodies lying twisted at the bottom of a ravine, or a corpse washing up at the other end of the cave tunnel. They didn't seem to think much of my imagined drama, so we stuck to our plans for fun and frolic up in the hills of Quebec. But then Joe was sorely injured during a hockey game, and I thought: Aha! This surely will save me from having to undergo that wretched experience again! (a little later on I was able to think of his suffering, but my first consideration for myself. I feel I must be completely frank with you...I am not a nice person)

As the day approached, supplies were purchased, equipment was gathered, and plans were finalized. It seemed inevitable. But then Environment Canada came to my rescue...or so I thought. Rain and thunderstorms were forecast. That seemed to put the caves to rest, for Cristiano also said it would be ridiculous to undertake such a thing in a thunderstorm. Phew!

The day before the expedition, I found myself driving for 18 hours on quite another mission altogether. I knew I was going to be very tired, and more than a little stiff, but I was imagining myself tucked up snugly somewhere in the hills, being quite unmoving while the kids did their thing. However, on the day everyone was very keen to go for it, and the sky was clear (darn that weather man, anyway!) So off we went. And you know what? The hills were about half as steep, half as frequent and half as long. The rock wall wasn't anywhere as difficult as I remembered it being, and I didn't even notice the mosquitos. Our group was fabulous: determined to have fun no matter what. Once at the caves, I did try to go in, but in my anxiety I broke my sunglasses. I decided to stay up in the sunshine and open air. Someone had to guard the stuff anyway.

It began to rain just as we decided to head back to base and set up camp. It kept on raining as we set up the tents. It rained while the kids ran through their activities. It rained while we sat huddled in the wooden shelter, trying to play cards by the light of one tiny candle and a flickering flashlight. It rained some more while we tried to cook spaghetti and sauce over a smokey, smoldering fire with damp wood and no kindeling. I set up my big, cheerful beach umbrella over the hibatchi so helpfully provided by the campground in an attempt to protect the fire. What it did was funnel the smoke down and around those of us trying to cook; two days and a good shampoo later, I still smell of woodsmoke. The sky really opened up and the rain came straight down fast and furious, accompanied by thunder from right over head when we played a game of spoons. Little rivers gathered into lakes, but fortunately the tents seemed to be on the one patch of high ground on the whole site. Let me cut this short: it kept on raining. Sure, it let up enough that we could go out and inspect the tents, to discover that the girls' was leaking. So they were going to sleep in the shelter. A raccoon unzipped the boys' tent to get at their snacks, and kept going back for more, so they slept in the shelter. Cristiano and Joe saw the 'coon go into their tent, so they too, slept in the shelter. Mine was taken down by a raccoon, so I slept in my car, but all my things were absolutely drenched. Including a library book which I must now return in its soggy condition. My sweater was wet enough to water the Sahara with. Taking the tents down the next day - in the rain - was a treat. Everything was not only wet but also covered in bits of twig and mud which stuck to our hands and clothes.

But you know what? Not one person complained once, not about anything. They had a great time, even the girl who had never been camping before and didn't know what to expect. They roasted marshmallows, made banana boats, talked, played games, sang songs...what a good group of kids. The three of us, Cristiano, Joe and I were exhausted and almost at our limit, but those kids made it all worthwhile. All the same, this bed of mine is the best place I can think of to be right now - at least until the sun comes out. When it does...anyone want to go camping?