He tagged along once on a back-woods fishing weekend. No-where in East Coast Canuckistan is truly remote, i.e. we were only a 45-minute drive from the nearest village, we don't have vast wilderness areas like other parts of Canada. We're small, and we've been settled for a comparatively long time - when walking thru what looks like virgin forest you might see an old line fence from a farm abandoned 100 years ago.
But we've got plenty of rough country and bad roads, and it sure can feel isolated.
The drive into camp felt like a pickup truck commercial. One section had a 100-foot stretch of road completely underwater. One of the lads had to put on hip-waders and scout ahead, under the watchful eye of a moose grazing the edge of the woods. Puddles, no big deal, but I've never had water streaming over the hood before.
Anyway, we finally got in, set up our gear and got ready for fishing. Everyone changed into boots, long pants and long sleeves... except BFIL who'd only brought sneakers, shorts and t-shirts.
We had no idea BFIL was a complete backwoods virgin, he's been in the country for at least 20 years and we just assumed he'd know all this stuff. Even the softest, most effete Torontonian has probably been to summer camp or camping with the family as a kid. I can only imagine the dangerous chaos if he'd tried to make that trip with a group of immigrant buddies, throw a couple of canoes in the mix and you'd have bad news.
To make a long story short we loaned BFIL a long shirt, couldn't find a pair of pants to fit and just doubled up on the flydope. (borrowed of course, he didn't bring any...) He utterly ruined his sneakers and several pairs of socks, was completely covered in bug bites, but had beaucoup fun and wants to come along next time.
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