Details as promised.

He took the day off on Friday so we could get an early start. It's a ways up to the lake, about 3 hours north of here and just 7 miles south of Canada. He has described it as a "pristine" mountain lake, with an "isolated" camp site just perfect for a family camping trip. So I said, "Great! Let's go!"

Now I'm no eco-biologist or anything, but even I know that these



do not live at "pristine" mountain lakes, and they certainly do NOT block the entrance. Unless you live near nilbo, in which case they are the governing party.

No, for those of you astute observers -- and you know who you are, Waldo-finders -- that is NOT snow you see on the windshield, it is bug guts. Yes, enormous splats of giant bug guts. **No bugs were intentionally harmed in the creation of this post, but some of them DID commit suicide in their joy to see us driving in, presumably to avoid even one more day of life near this bovine-riddled, bug-infested, wheat field-surrounded, swamp of a lake.**

We arrived, having fended off both bug and bovine, and stepped out into the balmy 100-degree heat to survey what I thought was our campsite. I'm such an amateur. Our actual campsite was obscured from view, located as it was a mere two ridge tops away at the other end of the really long lake. Not a bad day hike really, plenty of elevation gain and decline, lots of wide open fields coupled with the occasional patch of forest. But it was even more satisfying when taken in FIVE trips, loaded with tents, sleeping bags, duffle bags, campstove, folding picnic table, portacrib, cooler, bin filled with camp accoutrements like cookware, and another filled with food...and of course, a two year old who was only too happy to be confined to my back after hours in the carseat. Never-ending gratitude from that one.

And that was only Friday. Dear God.

Saturday we spent exploring our surroundings which meant different things for each of us. For LE, it meant peeing freely on unsuspecting trees, bushes and rocks. For LGE and LBE it was all about floating and fishing. For Sydney, well, it meant unfettered roaming and sniffing through cowpies and marsh grass, swimming on demand and lying about in scattered sunbeams. For Mr. E and me, it was more about ibuprofen. I also spent some quality time trying not to think about Sunday.

When the sun dawned clear and hot again on Sunday, it was with trembling that Mr. E and I greeted it's light: he, with excitement for the last early morning fishing of the trip; and I, with fear of the mortal injuries sure to be sustained during the pack-out. After breakfast and a little playtime, we broke camp and started to hike out. Four hours later, we began loading the car. No, no, Evelyn Woods, take your time and READ THAT AGAIN: Four hours later, we began loading the car. From a CAR CAMPING trip. **Find a happy place, find a happy place, find a happy place**

But despite all that, we actually did have a wonderful weekend together. So wonderful, in fact, that when Mr. E asked during the return trip home whether we'd like to go there again, LBE replied, "Are there other lakes that don't smell like a sewer?"

Out of the mouths of children...