Day 1-2
The trip began on Tuesday morning, bright and early. Chris’ brother Andy slept over so we could get going by 10 at the latest. And we actually stuck to this ETD—or at least within an hour of it. We packed all our camping gear, including our trusty tent and foldable camping chairs, some food and beverage and Miss Marley, and were on the road by 11. Prepared for an eight hour drive, we were pleasantly surprised as we tore through Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania, and found ourselves in NY at the lake house by 7 p.m.
We had hoped to get there in time to take a dip in the lake after setting up camp, as I have always wanted to camp on a packed-sand beach where you could have your campsite right at the shore of a body of water, into which you could jump in and cool off throughout the day. But alas, I don’t think those sort of setups exist anymore, at least not in a state park, which is where we were. The lake was close by though so it was just a short walk. But I think we were all a bit disappointed that it was only of wading depth.
We set up our camp in the backyard of the Taft Cottage, the (very) rustic house shared by Chris’ Aunt Janet and Uncle Peter and their two lovely daughters, Kate and Laura. And of course their beautiful mutt Miss Holly. Think classic New England clapboard cottage except without any luxuries or accoutrements. Just walls, bathroom, kitchen and windows, some of which had screens in them. Chris had other family members staying in the house across the street: Aunt Lou and her family, and Uncle Paul and his. My mother-in-law Kathy was not due until the next day.
Night fell shortly thereafter and so we sat around the campfire with the Wessels, catching up and enjoying some bratwursts and whiskey. And I had my first S’Mores! We hadn’t yet been affected by the heat or bugs, and simply enjoyed the company of fun relatives we don’t get to see enough.
The next day was long and active. When you are camping, or even just vacationing in a rustic lake house environment, mornings start with the rising of the sun. There are no curtains on the windows to block the sun’s morning rays, so when the sun rises, so do you. Especially if you are in a tent. The morning heat in a weatherproof tent can be stifling. So that first morning found Andy, Chris and me up at 4:30, all for different reasons. Chris was just hot. It was too hot to get in your sleeping bag, but too chilly to stay out of it. Andy was sleeping out in the elements, and awoke due to a combination of bugs, heat and dehydration/gnarly mouth due to alcohol intake. I too awoke from a case of dehydration and gnarly mouth. Nothing tastes worse than whiskey breath in the morning. But what else is there to do around the campfire at night except sing Kumbaya??
When I wake up like that, the only thing that would even possibly put me back to sleep is a hot shower and a toothbrushing. Here’s where that lake house came in handy, for sure. I went inside, brushed my teeth and couldn’t find the shower upstairs in the dark, so I put my head under the sink in the downstairs bathroom. This would at least give me that just-showered feeling for the top quarter of my body. Enough to allow me to doze off, it turns out, as I spread my sleeping bag out on a couch with a busted foundation in the middle (think V-shaped) and tried to doze off before the house awoke. I knew I had a big day ahead of me so I knew I needed at least some true rest. I must have dozed because the next thing I remember were the sounds of the morning. Holly charged downstairs, her super-long leash clanging the whole way, and Uncle Peter began getting the coffee ready. Time: 6:30 a.m.
Chris and Andy were up soon thereafter, and after some eggs and green tea, Aunt Adele and her kids walked over and the day’s agenda began to develop. First stop: somewhere for Marley to go swimming. She loves to swim and was itching to get in the surrounding water ASAP. We headed out with cousins in tow, and found a little nook that worked perfectly. The kids got a kick out of watching Marley swim out a fetch her stick. She goes long before you even throw the stick, and only her little tail sticks out of the water as she swims back with it in her mouth. I love to watch her feet work like a duck's under the water. I know I’m biased but she’s the cutest dog ever. (Holly, you are a close second.)
After Marley’s swim, Chris and I decided to beat the heat with a swim of our own. We changed into our swimsuits and rode our bikes down to the lake area. There’s an East Beach, and a West Beach, and only one was open for the day. And it didn’t open til 10! It felt like we’d been up for a while, but it was still so early. We probably finished Marley’s swim around 9:30 or so. So we had to hold off on swimming.
Uncle Paul had rented a rowboat and two kayaks for the day, so we decided to go watch them in the pond. After they shipped out, there was an extra kayak paddle. Chris and I took a canoe out of the lake (which I don’t think we were technically allowed to do) and used the kayak paddle to row across. What a great workout that was! I did most of the paddling — ahem — and did very well for someone who is rather un-athletic. But I’ve realized I am more athletic than I thought. Maybe I could have been some great crew star! I don’t lack the physical ability to participate in sports, but rather the competitive drive.
After the pond, I wanted to go to the beach, and Chris of course had to fit in a ride. So I walked over to the lake and sunbathed for a couple hours. It was nice and relaxing, until the incident. I went out in the too-shallow water, and desperate to cool off my whole body, did a surface dive. It was a poor decision, and I obviously didn’t have the clearance to do so, as I scraped my foot alongside the bottom and took off a too-long toenail. It’s still on there but I keep a BandAid on the toe in hopes that the skin or nail will just regenerate itself and stick back on or something. Understandably I don’t have the stomach to just rip it off.
Adele, Lou, et al. eventually joined me at the beach so we got to talk and stuff before the kids wanted to go over to the high-dive area. This was a body of water I will not soon forget, and I use the term “water” rather fluidly. It was a canal of stagnant, algae-topped water that was deep enough to dive into, so kids love it. After watching all the fun dives, I decided I was already dirty so what’s the difference if I jump into this dirty water. I am envious of kids because they don’t think practically. They only see the high-dive board. I see the brown bubbles that surround the body that has just cannonballed into the water. Gnarly, but fun indeed.
Once Chris came back from his ride it was time to start thinking about dinner. I can’t remember what exactly we dined on, but it was an early night. Kathy arrived in the late afternoon and again we closed out the night by hanging around the campfire outside the house. The kids played Apples and Apples and made more S’Mores while others chatted and applied bug spray. The party broke up around 9. Everyone was tired from the first big day, but also the bugs were becoming a nuisance. I should have known better at that point, but I continued to wear my beloved flip-flops throughout the trip, traipsing through the infested grass with nary a care in the world. I had no idea was a living, breathing chigger feast.
Day 3
When we woke up on Thursday, Andy, Chris and I all were hurting a bit. The heat, long days and less than ideal sleeping conditions were starting to take their toll. Also, we were slightly sunburned so the thought of more outdoor activities was unappealing. We decided to get showers and head into town for some AC.
Upon arrival in Oswego, we walked around a bit, made a quick stop for a souvenir and then hit up the local Friendly's. I had not had a Friendly's sundae since grade school, and the Tank boys had never been so it was an easy choice. We enjoyed the AC, greasy food, sweet and gooey ice cream, and of course the local patrons. That's the best part about going to small towns--the peoplewatching. And I mean that with all due respect to the great citizens of Oswego.
When we got back to the house, it was still freaking hot. So now we were all full on sugar and fat, with Andy and I awaiting an inevitable crash, in a hot house. We each found a couch or chair, some reading material, and just let the heat put us to sleep. Which is fine, as I love to waste the day sleeping every now and then. But when you wake up, you're still hot and there's nothing going on, it can seem kinda bleak. So we decided to lather up with sunscreen and hit the beach.
After applying a *thick* layer of 50 sunscreen on Chris and not rubbing it in all the way to prevent any further burning, we joined the rest of the crew at the lake. When it's hot like that, you definitely don' t want to be inside so it was really the best decision. Thankfully, some clouds rolled in soon thereafter and we could enjoy the beach without worry. (Even though I did get a richer tan through the overcast--I love it when that happens!)
That night, our last night there, it was Mexican night for dinner. Getting a vibe that there was not enough alcohol or ground beef to make Mexican night tolerable for Andy, Chris and me, we jetted over to the Cask and Flask to pick up some provisions. It was there that my left hand was nearly taken off by a Springer Spaniel in heat. I'm a dog lover so I was understanding but had it been someone more argumentative, they could have had some trouble on their hands.
We got back to the house with 1.5 pounds of extra ground beef and one mildly tender surface wound to find that we had missed Mexican night. Timing is everything, and when your eating with a crowd of 20, you better be there when it's served :)
Day 4
Friday morning we awoke to first thunderstorm the whole trip. We had sustained general rumbling in the skies and a brief shower here and there, but Friday morning the sky opened up. I was up super early in the house, as Miss Holly was freaking out, which had Peter and Janet downstairs around 6. I imagined Marley was surely freaking out outside in the tent, so I ran out there (barefoot! stupid!) to grab her while Chris finished putting the rain fly on the tent, which by that time contained him *and* Andy. Awwww!
It was assumed the rain would let up as it had done all week, but alas, it did not. Andy said later it sounded like the tent was under fire the rain was coming down so hard. Peter and Janet were up but I just couldn't stay up at 6:00 am. I grabbed my sleeping bag and Marley and went to lay up on the floor in Kathy's room, and just listened to the rain, which quickly lulled me to sleep. Chris and Andy came in from the storm shortly thereafter, having pushed the contents of our campsite under the sun shelter and resigning to just let what may get wet, get wet. Chris joined me up in his mom's room and we got one of the first instances of cozy sleep we'd had all week listening to the storm.
The problem was, we had to be out of the house by 11 am, and the rain was not stopping. We (but mostly Chris) had to break down the campsite and pack up the car in the rain. We were all soaked as we got in our cars and headed to Buffalo for the second leg of the trip. Final destination, Peter and Janet's house to unpack, and then off to Grandma Kay's to visit before dinner: the Fish Fry.
"Fish Fry" was the term I heard used listening to Kathy and her sisters make plans for dinner. "I was thinking we could just do a Fish Fry," said Aunt Lou. "Fish Fry?," I asked. "What's that? You mean like a clambake? Frying fish outside?" Adele, Lou and Kathy couldn't understand how I'd never heard that term. Turns out it's a Catholic term, stemming from the Lent tradition of abstaining from meat on Fridays and thus eating fish instead. Kathy tells me you don't even have to eat fish at a "fish fry," and if you do, it doesn't have to be fried. So I ask, "isn't that just called going out to dinner?" Somehow now. Me partaking in a Fish Fry then became an exciting premise for Kathy, even though I had had fried fish and french fries (fish and chips where I'm from) countless times in my life. I even discuss that in my honeymoon/Vancouver entry, about what an afficionado I am. Even still, when I ordered my fish and chips and then again when they arrived, Kathy got a look of excitement in her eyes as i was about to experience a "Fish Fry." While very good, it tasted like many other fish and chips in my life. Driving out of New York, I saw that term outside of a few restaurants; I think that's just what they call Fish and Chips up north.
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