watch out for bears though

amateur camping advice from a world renowned expert

You already know that I am the world’s least renowned expert in golf. 

But you may not know that I am also the world’s least renowned expert in camping. When it comes to survival in the outdoors, I really do not know shit about fuck, which is really excellent since it gives me a chance to use my favourite meme of all time. 

[BTW, if you were looking for the story that I unscheduled last week, that’s still coming but I need to sit on it for one more week. Today I woke up feeling like an actual human for the first time in ages, so I decided to calm down with all the sadness for one fuckin’ second and write a nice swear-y email that hopefully makes you laugh. Stay tuned for more sadness. I have a hundred episodes of Sadsack Weekly left to write.]

Back to our scheduled programming: camping 🏕

Because I am so more-than-ready to be reborn, I’ve decided to pull a Cheryl Strayed and go on a solo camping trip even though I am, as they say in Rome, a total camping neophyte. (Side note: I haven’t actually read Wild but I checked it out from the library. I assume Cheryl is a fellow divorcée because who else goes on a 1100-mile hike if she isn’t running from something?)

While at the library I also checked out some real books about camping (not written by another sadsack camping novice going through a divorce), one of which turned out to be an actual children’s book. HA! I read it cover to cover two times and actually learned a few things, like about digging a “cat hole” which is the hole you poop in, how to tie a bow knot and that you should always read the directions on your bear spray before you leave the house, so you know how to use it when a Grizzly bear tries to steal your Sweet Chilli Heat Doritos. (YOU MEAN I AM GOING TO BE CLOSE ENOUGH TO A BEAR TO SPRAY HIM?! WHUT?) 

Canadians who don’t camp have no idea the level of digital infrastructure that people who camp have access to. The Parks Canada and Ontario Parks websites are a living archive of hundreds of thousands of campsites, including backcountry sites, all with photographs for chrissakes—sometimes multiple photographs from different angles! It tells you how shady the site is, how many metres from the bathroom, from running water, or the beach, whether or not it’s private, if it has a slope, whether or not there’s cell coverage, plus like ten other things. It was like discovering Narnia right there on my laptop. 

After approximately forty-five-thousand hours of clicking through a gazillion campsites on the booking page, I booked a site on Beausoleil Island in Georgian Bay, big enough for six people because I am a diva like that. 

Here are some of my favourite reviews which, unbelievably, are direct quotes.

“Great outbuildings with bear proof lockers!”

(Or, as they call them in Rome, Dorito lockers.)

“The island is infested with gypsy moth caterpillars that poop all over everything.”

“Listen for rattlesnakes on the trails.”

(Wait…rattlesnakes actually rattle???)

“Negative: Lots of cigarette smoking around the dock.”

(Not so negative for me, Bob!)

“Big 40 feet boats ran generators late into the evening killing the peaceful atmosphere. If you like camping go elsewhere.”

“There is poison ivy literally everywhere.” 

You can see why the location was so irresistible. Plus I didn’t want to disappoint Cheryl Strayed by making it too easy. Before confirming my booking, the website made me click about twelve different buttons to confirm that, yes, I understand the island is only accessible by boat and I cannot bring my car. 

I tried emailing the water taxi people but I guess Georgian Bay folks don’t do internet because not one person emailed me back. All that’s left to do is figure out how to get to the island, buy a car (I’m currently driving a borrowed Impreza from 1982 that is literally held together with duct tape) and get a roof rack for it, find someone to loan me a canoe (the water is apparently colder than the arctic which is awesome since swimming is my #1 favourite camping activity), buy and break in some hiking boots, decide which is more important: books or food, memorize what poison ivy looks like, learn to fight bears but also figure out what a “bear can” is, and also what is the deal with tarps because at some point it will probably rain and I think that’s what tarps are for maybe? 

Like I said, world’s least renowned expert. If at some point in September you stop getting emails from me, please take the initiative to send in the rangers. I’m probably already dead tho.

And if I don’t get a New York Times bestseller out of this experience, I’m coming for you, Cheryl Strayed. 

xo,
Tarzan

Facts about this email:

1. I looked it up and confirmed that yes, Cheryl Strayed was indeed suffering from a case of divorce when she decided to hike the Pacific Crest Trail and write the book Wild—I hope her book is better than her website because yikes.

2. Not sure about bear CANS, but according to Wikipedia, bear SPRAY is an aerosol-spray bear deterrent which is highly irritant and is “used to deter aggressive or charging bears.” (Aggressive or charging bears!? R U KIDDING ME?)

3. I am, as they say in Rome, a complete plagiarizer and copycat. I stole the Rome joke from my Alex Dobrenko of Both Are True. I can’t get enough of it, as you can see.