a peek inside the fishbowl

Solo camping was almost entirely an impulse decision. I’d had half an eye on Fitzroy Provincial Park as a potential camping destination for Mark, Sunny, and myself. Sunny has never camped overnight in a tent (only a yurt) and I thought that trying out a site close to Ottawa for a night or two might be a good idea in case she was barky, naughty, hard to manage, or all of the above.

So, yes, Fitzroy. About a month ago I decided to see if there were any last-minute spots available, and there were. And THEN I thought, most selfishly, WHAT IF I TOOK THAT FOR SPOT MYSELF! (?)

** Before I go much further I should state for the record that our definition of camping is decidedly CAR CAMPING at sites that have – at a minimum – potable water and vault toilets. Just so you can get a more fulsome picture of where I’m coming from here.

So the idea of solo camping has really only been a ghost of an idea, but when it occurred to me it took hold like few things have this past year.

We’ve camped for many years as a family and as such it’s not a completely foreign exercise, but could I do it by myself?

To many, I’m sure, car camping 45 minutes outside of the big city is not really a big deal. The number of Things That Can Go Horribly Wrong are minimized simply because you’re not far from civilization. But the way I saw it, this COULD represent a baby step towards bigger/longer/harder solo camping trips.

Will it build resilience and aptitude? Possibly.
Am I a tougher cookie than I was last week? Absolutely.

—

I worry about things, and sometimes that worry tips into fear territory.

Perhaps surprisingly, here’s my list of things I wasn’t overly worried about: chainsaw-wielding maniacs, peeing in the woods, running out of food, falling off my paddle board, various bugs and critters, death and dismemberment.

(Speaking of critters, a sign near the park entrance warned of a bear sighting at the day beach of all things… basically, the most populated area of a campground BY FAR.)

And here, my friends, are the things I was worried about.

Getting lost 

I worry about getting lost, like, in everyday life, and, while this is the flip side of the same coin, I also worry about not knowing exactly where I am.

I have amazingly poor orientation skills. I never know which way I’m coming and, worse, which way I’m going. North, South, East, West? I only know it as Never Eat Sour Watermelon and that’s about the extent of it. (Oh and the sun rises in the East and sets in the West.)

The invention of the GPS was a godsend. If you can believe it, I even turn it on when I navigate known roads here in the city simply because it brings me comfort. But campgrounds, they are a different beast. Campgrounds are purposely designed as a geographical tapestry of narrow dirt roads, some of which are, understandably, one way loops… which is great for pedestrian safety but almost guarantees that I will be revisiting that loop again — and again —  as I try to get my bearings. And adding to this confusion, the maps rarely match the scale in my mind.

You know what? During this camping trip I did not get lost! I did get mildly turned around when I was returning from a hike on the first day but I always found myself where I wanted to be.

Adding to this, I also did not get lost on my hike. Phew.

Setting up the tent by myself

In our family’s history it typically takes at least three people to set up a tent. Mark and I, and one or more of our (now adult) children, who have excellent patience, memory, and puzzle-solving abilities. But here I was, with a relatively new tent, and only my own foggy puzzler to work it out. Thankfully, the instructions were pictograms that were literally sewn into the tent case. I took a deep breath and took it one step at a time, taking short breaks to enjoy the view. At one point I was really struggling to bend the end of the (semi-flexible) tent poles into the grommet it needed to go. As I did so I remembered the scene in The Odyssey when the suitors had to string the bow (if you know, you know) BUT I flexed my muscles and DID IT.

Tornados (a minor fear)

In my list of things I wasn’t afraid of I mentioned death and dismemberment but I didn’t mention THE MEANS. Given the summer we’ve had — and the fact that the tornado warning we had this week actually mentioned Fitzroy Provincial Park by name no less — it did cross my mind.

Sigh.

Seeing this all written down, it is clear that my fears aren’t exactly rational. Most fears aren’t, I imagine. But the way we deal with our fears is by, er, dealing with them. Call it exposure therapy, but the more we do something that worries us the more easier it will become. This is a big part of the reason I embarked on this solo camping trip to begin with.

A bit about Fitzroy Provincial Park

Fitzroy PP is a pretty spot, and very accessible for young families and campers who don’t have a lot of experience. It’s not as wild/remote/nature-immersive as Algonquin Park, but everyone has a different comfort level with this. I get it.

This is the camp store, by the way:

(Funny story: as I was leaving with my two bags of wood an older fellow remarked upon my ability to carry it! Yessir, this is why I go to the gym!)

My site (285) was right on the Carp River so I spent a lot of time sitting and staring at the water and into the trees. (Here’s a quick video walkthrough if you want to see what it looked like.) It was fairly quiet. There’s a campsite through the trees on the left but nothing on the right.

There were bats and fireflies, frogs and dragonflies. No shortage of nature to watch in wonder.

The Carp River Trail is a must-see. It’s short, and so pretty I had to go back the next day.

If you know me you know I have a thing for mushroom spotting, and there were plenty of those along the trail. These two photos ain’t the half of it but I didn’t want this post to be about mushrooms. :D

Paddle boarding along the Ottawa River was a highlight and I wish I could have lingered longer on the water and on the beach.

I launched from the small beach (aka the “Camper Beach” which was a short walk away from my site. The water here is shallow and calm; perfect for a slow and restful paddle. I had some record wildlife sightings too: a mother deer and her two fawns on the shoreline, and lots of cool birds.

No camping trip is complete without a hot dog (or two) roasted over the fire. I am a fan of cutting them spider style for the extra browning that occurs. There were no marshmallows for me, unfortunately, as I ate an entire bagged salad and was so full I couldn’t eat another bite. (Overall I brought too much food. I came home with about half of everything. Lesson learned. But then again, a gal likes to have some CHOICES amirite?)

This was my breakfast the next day. Glorious.

I think I may have watched too many old movies as a kid and this next part is going to sound koo koo krazy coming from an adult but I’ve always secretly wanted to try sleeping like a cowboy… yes, on the ground next to an open fire. This was prime time for the Perseids (an annual meteor shower active from July 17 to August 24) and I struggled to stay awake in my camp chair so I just spread out a picnic blanket next to the fire pit and covered myself with a second warm and fluffy blanket I brought with me. Guess what? The ground is very hard! Those cowboys didn’t have it easy, eh?

As soon as I started to fall asleep I moved into my comfy tent. The air mattress was so comfortable – or maybe I was just so so tired – that I dropped on top of it and fell into a deep sleep. I didn’t see any shooting stars, but I did see a night sky that took my breath away.

Solo camping has its pros and cons for sure. For starters, it is a workout and a half. It was up to me to lug the bags of firewood, the cooler, the paddle board. I set up the tent myself, and, I took it down too… in the pouring rain. There was no other pair of hands to lighten the load.

It also felt a bit sad not to have someone to share the experience as I was living it. At one point during my stay I looked out over the Carp River and saw a large heron taking off with what I can only describe as raucous dragon-like squawking. The sound that come out of this elegant waterfowl was so surprising, but who was there to hear it other than me? No one. There was no one to turn to with wide eyes and say OMG did you hear that? Part of the joy of camping for me has been sharing that joy and surprise. BUT BUT BUT there is also something to be said for solitude, and for quieting a chaotic brain. I have to figure out how to balance that all out.

The rain came right at the very end of my stay. It was a bit annoying but also kind of perfect. I feel like I experienced everything a “proper” camping experience had to offer. And even though I drove home with a trunk full of wet and dirty gear, it felt good.

My only regret is only booking the one night. 24 hours is not actually a lot of time but at least I got a taste of everything that encompasses a typical camping experience: sun, rain, sand, the smell of woodsmoke and hotdogs over a fire mixed with a whiff of bug spray. Nature. Mushrooms. Water. Is there anything better? I’m not sure there is.

Will I go solo camping again? I am planning on it.

(Questions? Thoughts? I have comments turned off on all posts but you can send me an email.)