Unhappy Campers
It was the summer of 1980.
Anne and I were spending our holidays in Vancouver with her family.
We were child free.
When fall approached, we settled on a novel way to return to our home in Quebec City, opting for Canada DriveAway . Ever heard of that blue-ribbon organization?
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In our case, being a Canada DriveAway vassal entailed ferrying someone else’s ritzy, over-sized car from Vancouver to the east coast, enabling the closest thing to a cross-country road trip… with a built-in excuse to avoid camping at every stop—because, hey, we were working!
Both of us realized how much we despised camping; the bugs, the odiferous latrines, the ritualistic, labour-intensive wrestling with the tent, the vagaries and perfidies of the elements, the all-enveloping primeval darkness, and the seeming omnipresence of ferocious wild beasts, red in tooth and claw, gave us both a first -degree case of the heebie jeebies.
Besides, in a former life, I had come within a whisker of being devoured by a rabid bear and was clearly PTSD.
The Bear Essentials June 1972 – Robert McBryde
So in spite of having been loaned full camping gear, we looked for every excuse not to camp, and succeeded masterfully in crossing our fair nation, sleeping off the rigours of the daily drive in the modest confines of cheap motels in places with euphonic names like Moose Jaw and Wawa.
Our ultimate destination, which we attained after an obligatory overnight stay in Saint-Louis-du-Ha! Ha!, Quebec, was Cape Breton Island, where friends awaited us in their cabin in the woods.
We arrived in one piece, staggering from our vehicle in Cape Breton’s Margaree Valley, after over a week on the road.
Anne was first out of the car. She was wearing a white cotton tee shirt.
And there, live and in technicolor, our friends and I watched, appalled, as in the space of about two minutes, her white garment was spattered and pierced by a myriad of bright red pinpricks, as the voracious blackflies of the Cape Breton forest drew copious first blood.
This was our summer travel adventure of 1980.
Anne was already pregnant with our son Dan when the bugs descended upon her like a swarm of remorseless, blood-thirsty harpies.
We got married a couple of weeks later, on August 30, 1980. No cause and effect implied.
The advent of a new life.
Your friend,
Robert
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/
