Not just any island, but Wellesley Island, way up in the St Lawrence. My scout troop used to go camping up there every year, the weekend of Thanksgiving. Yea, it was in the cold of November, but there was a bonus.
It was dead empty. In all the years we went there, we
- Always had the same campsite for some reason.
- Never once saw another camper.
I came to appreciate that. But I also haven't been up there since the 90's, so when my wife started talking about camping, and more insistently, I suggested that. And off we went. We had a nice little site on the water that our kids enjoyed, and I recognized exactly nothing. Of course, we weren't in the same campsite I used to be in, because I couldn't find it.
I looked. I certainly knew what to look for, but it's like it wasn't there. Did the roads get moved? Sure the trees have changed, but the giant hill with the big rock? Or certainly half the buildings I would have recognized.
The kids loved it. They all wanted to stay. Alas, we had to go. I opted to drive around the camp a little bit, just to see everything. It was like the old campsite we stayed in never existed. I know memory is a fickle thing, but half the landmarks I was expecting just weren't there.
Regardless, everyone had a great time. Such a great time that they all fell asleep within an hour of getting home.
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