So I went camping last week, or as I should put it, "camping." The only flora of note was trampled grass and the only wild fauna were high school students. Those come in two subspecies: drunk and sleeping.
The tents held up in the little mild rain and wind there was. The Tarn 2 was remarkably easy to set up. This was only the third time I had set it up and already had shaved ten minutes off the assembly time. Actually dismantling it is more of a bother since tent poles with shock cord tend to whip you straight across the face like a woman in a bad vaudeville play.
It was a pretty bad weekend, most especially because I accidentally fell asleep on the beach and woke up with awkward splotches of significant sunburn dotting my body. I'm so polka-dotted that if my skin colour were a pattern I'd be a hit on a Milanese runway.
My next camping trip - and I'll likely wait a few weeks when I'm Caucasian again - will be more authentic.
On another note I finally received my Bruce Trail guide in full, a terrific binder with maps of every trail section and side trail, reroutes, settlements, backcountry campsites and any significant point of natural beauty. My hat's off to you BTA for putting together such a comprehensive guide, certainly no easy feat for something as long and awe-inspiring as the Trail.
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