campin'

Gven Golly and I have been camping before, so it was a minor challenge to set up the tent after dark in a light rain. We're not "serious" outdoor people, and we haven't done any hard-core wilderness survival training, but in most settings we kind of know what to do. Many factors contributed to our getting a late start on our journey from Methodistville, Ohio, to Mancelona, Michigan. We chose to stop for supper at the little restaurant at the Waters exit off I-75 just as it was getting dark. The hot pork sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy was worth the short delay.

We had breakfast at the nearby golf course restaurant/pro shop/bar by special arrangement, since we had slept late and missed the 11:00 cutoff time. They were happy to waive the restriction when we made it clear we were hoping for a real breakfast, and the ham and cheese omelet hit the spot. The lunchtime clientele was a study in Michigan contrasts: Republican retirees at their laptops complaining about how Obama wants to tax their capital gains and give it to the illegal immigrants; middle-aged biker chicks in leather leggings and plunging necklines blaring music on their iPhones; wholesome young families from Ludington on vacation up north in their school sweatshirts; and us, a couple of immigrants from Ohio figuring out what to do instead of bicycling and canoing when it's 55 and rainy.

The drizzle continued most of the day, so we checked on the property that Grandma and Grandpa Golly gave us, just to see what it looks like in July, and collected a little semi-dry firewood while we were there. We drove over to Lake Lapiz, one of our favorite spots, but it was too cold and damp to swim or canoe, so we bought a few supplies at the little store in Alba and looked for tie-downs at the hardware store in Mancelona to try to upgrade our roped-down canoe-carrying setup, but without success. If ropes is what we've got, then ropes will have to do. They turned out to be perfectly adequate, even though tying and untying repeatedly was a bit of a task - grumble grumble #&@%$!*.

Perhaps the best decision of the day was to go ahead and put the canoe in the water, rain or no rain. As soon as we started to float out the cove past the lily pads onto the lake, I knew it was the right thing to do, even as we paddled against a brisk wind across the lake - why? - to get to the other side, of course. It was instructive to see up close what people have tastefully done - and not done - with their lakefront property to keep it clean and unspoiled. The slow, steady paddling warmed us up and lifted our spirits; there's nothing like floating in a little boat to change your perspective on things.

Thus revived, it was time for dinner, so we got a fire going with a little help from self-starting charcoal - which is cheating, you know, but what the hell, it's raining - and in no time had pasta with pesto, sweet red peppers, cherry tomatoes, Jarlsberg cheese, and red wine. The cooking fire morphed into a long-lasting campfire, which gave us something to poke while listing all the places we have camped over the years.

There was Hillsville, Virginia, 1976; Strawberry Mountain Farm, Georgia, 1977, in the tent that Gven sewed herself. There was Zion, Illinois, 1978; Door County, Wisconsin, and Marquette, Michigan, 1980; Cade's Cove, Tennessee, 1981; Uwharrie National Forest, North Carolina, 1982; Walker County, Georgia, 1983; and Newberry, South Carolina, 1984. Then not so much when the kids were little; Cade's Cove again with the preteens Jessi and Zelda, 1995; John Bryan State Park, Ohio, with Jessi, 1997; then Antrim County, Michigan, 2007, 2008, 2009, and counting.

You'd think we'd have it down by now. You'd think. But no, we're still improvising and experimenting in a long-term quest to find the most difficult way to do the simplest things with the least possible preparation and minimal equipment. Sleeping on cots this year, instead of on the ground, is a major concession to modernity.

The weather broke on Sunday, so after breakfast (campfire oatmeal, fruit, coffee) we decided to go to Traverse City and up the Leelanau Peninsula. I hadn't been there in many years, and Gven was oohing and aahing half the way there, and it's true, it is a picturesque drive up M-22 along the rim of Grand Traverse Bay. There were a few sailboats out on the water, but a lot of people were just lounging on their boats sitting in the harbor and enjoying the sunshine. It's been a cool year so far. We stopped for a picnic lunch in Northport and headed back by way of Sutton's Bay. Since we were in the neighborhood, we decided to find the winery that a couple of high school friends recently bought, but as luck would have it, closing time on Sunday is 5:00 and we got there at 5:02.

I knocked on the door anyway, and who should open it but my friend Heron Sherrick, who remarkably recognized me right away and invited us in to join a wine tasting party already in progress. We met the other workers and sampled a few of the sparkling wines that are their specialty. Heron called her husband Lou Stang, also a Groves Falcon, class of '69, and Lou showed us around the place while we caught up on the last 40 years while sipping their product. It was all an unexpected pleasure, and their hospitality at the end of a long workday was almost an embarrassment of riches.

Heron and Lou recommended Apache Trout Grill, so that was our next stop for dinner. We had a view of the water from our cocktail table by the bar, which beats an hour and a half wait, and the walleye with garlic mashed potatoes was excellent. It was also fun eavesdropping on the conversations of golfers and tourists from Green Bay sharing Packers lore and other lies. We had some time to kill and were in no hurry to get back to camp, so we walked up Front Street and found a decent bookstore with a cafe and, briefly, a piano player.

In spite of our new cots, sleeping was still a challenge, more due to the well-ventilated tent than anything else. It was chilly at night, so we had to wear layers and burrow down into our mummy bags, and this is July! We also had to get an early start Monday morning for the trip home, so we decamped at first light and hit the road - but not before a ritual dip in Lake Lapiz, which was completely refreshing and made the rest of the seven-hour drive bearable. We got home just in time for me to make it to my 6:00 class in the park. Although I looked a little the worse for wear, I felt renewed and invigorated after a couple of days away.