New Me/New You

Goldstream Provincial Park 08/05/21- Vancouver Island, just outside Victoria

I needed to test our gear. More than that, I needed to get out of the house before I went crazy from pandemic hibernation. Goldstream would be a good test of our resolve, a low-stakes entry into spending a night outdoors and all that that entailed. It was a little stressful, a little cold, a bit embarrassing in some ways, but we got it done, the first one out of the way and important lessons learned along the way.

Goldstream Provincial Park is well known on the south island for the big salmon run each fall; for the dramatic change of fall colours; and for the start of the Malahat drive, the twisting highway cutting right through the center. It also has a sizable campground and being so close to Victoria, is a good spot for anyone in the city looking for a convenient camping spot (even if maybe camping isn’t ordinarily your thing).

We decided just to show up and see what we could see. Although the raging pandemic had driven many to take up camping driving down vacancies in general, it was also still early in the season which we figured would balance things out. And we were right, if just barely. After looping through the majority of the grounds and nearly at the point of defeat, we came across one of the final open spots. Bonus: it was right near the washrooms. 

The provincial parks in our region mirror the look and feel of many of our local forests – dark, damp, quite cool on even on a nice day. This is unavoidable and by design. The whole point of the park is to protect the natural ecosystem. Elsewhere in the province this might mean pine trees and grassland. For us it meant tall trees, sword fern and salal, nicely making each site private while also locking in the gloom. 

This was all fine. We would get a fire going, do the camping “thing” and head back to town in the morning. We would get a fire going and all would be well. Just as soon as the park operator came round to sell us the wood… First the tent. Brand new and what looked to be a simple job devolved into exasperation and cursing. Sarah brought out a video tutorial on her phone, saving the day. It was the bloody fly that was the problem. It seemed impossibly large and it wasn’t until it was finally in place that the design became obvious. We moved on to supper, trying to get over an early frustration and into the spirit of camping. Camping can be fun, I told myself. The fire remained unlit and afternoon moved to evening.

At some point in all this, we ran into some friends. They too were feeling a little pandemic crazy and looking for a last minute spot. Defying the odds, they ended up only a 50 meters away. Later in the night, we would join them by their fire for some camaraderie by the fire, reminding us what car camping could be. But first we still had to light the fire and things were getting a little desperate.

Here we began to see a stark difference in the personalities of Sarah and I. Camping was already beginning to unearth our deeper essence; we were on edge, pacing around a rapidly darkening site, sipping at our beer, waiting. I had seen the guy cruising around, even running after him at one point, looking to intercept the motorized cart and demand he sell us some wood. He had to come by was my refrain. Sarah’s universe makes no such promises. She saw a future with no fire, with us crawling into our sleeping bags at seven, of a cold night and ill-feelings toward each other. Only action could save us and so she got in the car and drove to the little store just outside the park. Of course they sold firewood and at a better price. They were still open and Sarah saved the day. I lit the fire (more than a little proud of myself), the operator came by shortly later (with his inferior wood) and we were both feeling a lot better. Finally it was time to sleep.

One important change to our camping set-up was the comfy air mattress that would replace the roll-up sleeping pads we usually deployed. If we were committing to car-camping (as opposed to say back-pack camping, with a car you can get a bit silly with how much gear you bring), then we needed the sleep set-up to match. Made up like a proper bed, we retired confident that we could be campers after all. Then the night got cold. It was still May, granted, but we also don’t live in a cold place. The ground had other ideas. On my front, under the weight of blankets, I felt fine. It was from below and the cold of the ground that discomfort began to creep. We battled this by altering the set-up: we needed blankets below as well. That helped us until that sensation, very slight at first, that the mattress was not as firm as it could be became obvious for what it was. It was leaking. Soon we were on the ground and nothing could save us from the cold seeping through the deflated mass. It was terrible.

So it was on our first camp for a long while. I’ll need to investigate new sleeping options. The mattress deceived us. There will be plenty more opportunities to test our mettle before the real thing, the big trip where we two (three with Gidget who likes camping even less than us) will be tested even greater. Best to get the bad experience out of the way early. But know too that you can come back from a brutal sleep on the ground. Soon we were home, warm and comfortable again. It’s a night out we will remember and I suppose that’s all it has to accomplish.