tony’s blog

With huge effort, we persuaded Sue to visit a DIFFERENT campsite for our annual camp with Bevangarth, after a couple of decades of Port Burwell. Signs were good – hot and humid weather here, so the northern cool at Killbear Point should be a tonic. True, the weather forecast said “sunny periods” … Several times Sue wanted to cancel the trip, with lots of provocation (visitors, Roz sick so us caring for Sausage, work, G20 street closures, etc), but we finally set off at 6.30pm on a beautiful Thursday evening, and Tony’s spirits rose.

Then it got dark, and difficult. We missed the final turning off the highway and almost went to North Bay. By the time we found Killbear it was nearly 10.30pm, and the whole park (880 campsites) was in the charge of just one virgin (Carolyn) in the front office. She was very sweet, but had trouble finding our reservation for site 117 on the computer – she invited us INTO the kiosk away from moskies while she struggled. No good. Then she announces in horror that our campsite has been re-sold!

Because we booked WED-Sun, and didn’t come til Thurs, the computer sold it to someone else on-line. “But we’ve already paid for it!” – ah yes, but we changed our system this year, we re-sell them. Can’t have campers at the door and empty sites a-wasting.

Tony and Sue look mutinous. Carolyn hurriedly radios to a senior, who tiredly agrees to come in. A long pause.

The senior arrives (Carolyn having very apologetically asked us to stand outside again – rules). He massages the computer keyboard with a confident flourish, and assures us that she is right – we’re screwed. Carolyn finds us an empty site (5 km away from #117). “But we’re here with friends! We need to be near them…” Can’t be done, but we can try again tomorrow – well, today (it’s now after midnight). So which campsite are our friends (the Hatts) on? Oh sorry, sir, that’s CONFIDENTIAL. (Deeeep breath, suck it up. Canada, eh?)

By this time things are so bad that we begin to laugh. We drive miles to #511, on a totally different campground, and find we are almost the only residents, no-one within earshot, the moonlit lake glimmering silently between the trees. So we stumble about in the dark, falling over and screaming with laughter, pop up the trailer, eventually find the hydro, make tea, and bed at 1.30am still laughing.

It’s beautifully quiet, just the faint sighing of wind in the trees. We sleep until 9, and Sue bounds up in alarm (must get on) … and then finds she misread the clock, it’s 7am. Ah well, nice day and we’re up now, so tea and dress – let’s go look for some Hatts. They’re up, welcoming, with coffee, and delighted with their beautiful campsite (#62), right on the sand with scenic vista of bay, islands etc. They’re curious – where are you? – and show us campsite 117 next door, which is EMPTY!!

Tony leaps up and drives off in haste to the front office. I don’t care how many people it’s been sold to – if I’m the first one here AND the first one to pay for it, it’s MINE! Different virgin all alone (it’s only 7.30am), consults computer, says no sorry it’s definitely sold. Tony changes tack. “Excuse me, but if I want to get really angry, who should I shout at?” Virgin is baffled, “What?” Tony repeats himself. Virgin stares, and says rather nervously “Er, my boss Jeremy I suppose” – and is relieved to radio him.

Another wait.

Finally Jeremy arrives, young, energetic, charming, and very intelligent. After some minutes struggling with the computer he looks up in amazement and tells Tony site 117 has been sold … to the Hatts!! Boggle. Tony assures him that these very Hatts are sitting drinking coffee in site 62 as we speak. More struggle, and the computer insists that site 62 is not available – yet hasn’t been sold to anyone. Impasse. Computer totally unwilling to change its mind (and probably STILL offering our site to other purchasers on the web).

Oh the joy of talking to the boss! Jeremy waves his hand at Virgin, orders her to make out a “manual” ticket (yes, with pen and paper) for site 62, and voila – back to tell Sue the good news … we’re going to move the trailer all over again. And we settle happily at 117.

But only just in time. Within an hour an angry man appears at #62 saying THEY booked and paid for this site. Bevangarth suddenly speak only Hungarian, with eloquent shrugs. And during the day (Friday), as the camp fills up with weekenders, 3 or 4 more people arrive at #62, glare at them angrily, then drive off. Aren’t computers wonderful?

And we’re so lucky. It rains, then rains, then pours torrents. But B&G are right there, we eat under their tarp, we play bridge in our trailer, we launch their boat during a dry spell, lots of fun. And it’s NOT HOT! (And Tony&Bev took a punt at 5 diamonds, despite both opponents bidding … and made 7).

Definitely worth the travel.