The stove is roaring behind me perched on a weathered plank balanced on a piece of granite and a drift log. It's loud but it's a noise that brings comfort because of what it means – a hot drink, a scalding facecloth, clean dishes.
We're in the West Kootenays around the Nelson area . We drove from my brother's place in Procter and shuttled the vehicles between Silverton and Slocan. Then, floating between the still, 31-degree still air and the seasonably warm water of Slocan Lake, our "fleet" paddled across for about an hour making for the campsite at Nemo Creek.
Nemo spills across a bit of a gravel plain, merging icy cold water with the bath-like conditions of the lake. On the pebbly and sandy spit, a couple of canoes, a sailboat and a kayak are loading, taking with them the day trippers who have come across from Silverton. Left behind will be a dad and his two pre-schoolers and another with his toddler. Lucky kids having the chance to live this life for a few days. One paddles about close to shore, sort of fishing. The youngest stumbles along limply holding his dad's hand, way past tired and in that delirious state only another parent who has experienced it can know.
We are creatures of habit but also culture. Being exposed to things at a young age creates a framework that, if done right, establishes a comfort level that allows for layers of new experiences to be added. In the city, proximity to others, the busy sounds at night, passing a dog on the street, all are second nature to us. The readiness of running to the store is something we take for granted. Likewise, hearing the rain on a well-pitched tent can lull us to sleep. The lapping of water against the shore and getting up to silence while the rest of our chosen companions sleep becomes a new form of normal. Taken out of one existence and immersed in another is especially appealing, moreso if one finds the world of concrete and congestion wanting. Ipads, pods, tunes and phones fade quickly to sticks and stones and ospreys and fishing line. It's really something for an adult. For a child it is, for the time, everything.
I truly believe our kids still camp with us because the trip expectations are kept so simple and familiar. The three days drifted by. Breakfast, paddle, snacks, paddle. Find the best campsite from all that were awesome and set up the tents, build the fire, have supper, filter water and play the game of choice. (This trip it is Bohnanza.). Read, visit, read. We slip off to bed when we get tired and wake up when we have slept out.
We take out at Slocan, retrieve our vehicles and enjoy a tasty lunch at the roadside café, oddly named Sleep is for Sissies. Someone else's stove created the burgers and wraps we enjoyed. The memory of our own one burner blasting out the heat makes their work taste all the more delicious.
