Prologue
In one of my previous posts, I went on and on about how great it was to stay in a house and be able to explore Cape Cod. I might have even mentioned some foolishness along the lines of “I’m never camping again.” However, camping is $17 a night and the cape house would normally cost over 1800 a week, so guess who camped on the cape again?
Journal
We have an annual trip that we take as a family ever year. We used to have several, but many of them have fallen by the wayside for one reason or another. Some I miss. I really like Emerald Lake in Vermont. Some I won’t. Grand Isle State Park is a beautiful park, but in October, all I remember is that it is cold. Some never quite materialized. We went to a condo in Jackson, NH one Christmas and received some comp time due to a malfunctioning shower that we used the following summer. The boys loved the trip and want to do it again, but it’s on the expensive side. However, through it all, for the last million(?) years, we have camped at Shawme-Crowell State Forest in Sandwich, MA.
We’ve camped with friends. We’ve camped just the two of us. We’ve camped for one week. We’ve camped for two weeks. Due to working restrictions, Christine and I only camped for two long weekends this year. I know. It’s a damn tragedy. We’ve camped when we were the only ones in the campground. We’ve camped during the 4th of July holiday week and will never do that one again. Heck, we’ve even camped in a damn hurricane. Nothing has kept us from this trip year after year.
It’s gotten to the point where I feel like the place is home. I will often make jokes on Facebook about “those damn tourists” or that we are “going home for a few days”. Christine and I talk more and more regularly about getting a place on the cape after we retire. I’ve said this before and I’ve even made jokes about it on my Facebook and elsewhere that I was going to start a fund raiser to help me retire down there. As the years pass and we vacation at other places less and the cape more, it is looking more and more likely. However, that’s a discussion for another time.
What do we do that is so great that we want to keep coming back and maybe even devote the last 20+ years of our life to living there? Well, this time, nothing. Not a damn thing. Remember last time when I made the argument for doing nothing? Well, it wasn’t quite that level of nothing. But, because Christine and I both worked this summer, these trips were definitely about refreshing and recharging. Even the boys, who usually aren’t impressed by our busy pace, mentioned that we didn’t do much during these weekend trips.
It might be argued that we are just bored or burned out with the things to do down there. This is an understandable assumption and entirely plausible. However, we went into the vacation with the idea that we would do things like go see a Cape Cod league game (which we haven’t in a few years), travel to the National Seashore beach again (which I suggested as a change of pace and because it was really much cooler than our usual beach), and travel to Wood’s Hole (one of my favorite places on earth) for a day.
We only actually did the last and that was on the very last day that we were there and after much procrastination. No, we were neither bored nor burned out on activities. We were just mostly tired from having worked all week and she just wanted to spend time on the beach. Me, I’m not much of a beach guy, but I will often accompany the family because they find ways to make it fun.
There weren’t any seal sightings at the beach like there were at the National Seashore beach. I didn’t strap on the wet suit, flippers, and snorkel to swim a ridiculous distance on the search for…well, I’m not entirely sure but we were supposed to know exactly what it was when we saw it. That refers to an adventure from a couple of years ago with a friend who used to live his entire life that way. Perhaps as I become more accustomed to posting to this page, I will either try to remember back that far or, more likely, just try to recreate it. We didn’t get caught on a disappearing/reappearing island and have to wade through a rapidly increasing high tide to get back to shore. That one was my own idea and we’ve been back to the place a few times. Once was to get on kayaks and get a lecture from my friend mentioned earlier that I should lay low and not piss off any fishermen. In his words, “I know you have no sacred cows, but this isn’t your domain anymore. Just follow me and be respectful because these guys don’t care out here.”
I won’t go into detail because, hey, it’s another potential essay at a later point in the page’s history. But, I will say that we didn’t get killed or detained by pirates. We did ogle huge boats in a marina that we paddled through. Well, during our most recent trip to Cape Cod, we didn’t even do that much. Though, we did see a huge shipping ship come through the canal during one of our nightly trips to the bike path. So, not even our beach visits led us down a path that ended with what anyone would consider “a good story”.
I mean, there was the one night that we traveled to a “different” beach for a fire at night with my sister-in-law and her family. The “different” beach was simply another stretch of the usual beach that we go to farther down the shore and on the other side of the canal. It was still fun as we sat there in the dark like a bunch of teenagers, constantly looking over our shoulder and joking that at any minute the cops or firefighters would show up to break up our little “party”. The funniest part was wondering what they’d say when they discovered that the “party” was me and my kids trying to throw rocks into the ocean from as far away as possible while one of my young nieces ate sand and the other fell asleep in her father’s arms. Oh, those raucous summer nights.
But, hey, not all adventures are about the adventure. Sometimes you just need a weekend or two to unwind. You are reminded what and who is important in life. Sitting in a campground or on a beach, riding a bike on a path along the canal, eating an ice cream (or in my case, drinking a milkshake) around a campfire either on the beach or at the campground, or hanging out with the fisherman on the jetty can all serve to flush out the bad and allow some good to flow back in to your brain, soul, humors, mojo, or whatever it is you believe that drives life and keeps you tethered to an increasingly bizarre reality.
Epilogue
Now that I’m thinking about it, this summer has been full of those types of adventures. We have spent a considerable amount of time at home instead of traveling. When we traveled, it has mostly been to either familiar or safe destinations. Maybe it is because we both worked this summer. Maybe it is because we have a big trip down the east coast and ending in Florida planned for next year. Maybe it is just because every so often you have to reboot the system. Whatever the reason, it has still been a great summer and I’m ready to head back to school for the fall semester.