As you start thinking towards summer, and booking that campsite...
This essay ran in The Globe and Mail a few years ago, and will be the last of "The Best of Outtakes" that have been posted in this space while I've been on vacation. Hope you enjoyed them...
As enjoyable as summer camping can be, there is something about the fall camping experience that is like no other.
True, the rare but welcome salute of the songbird at dawn is scarcely heard above the drone of the portable heater one site over, but you get the idea.
Camping has commanded a certain exclusivity over our family vacations the last several years, especially while the kids were small. Come Labour Day, however, the trailer would otherwise be relegated to storage for the season. The less-hardier inhabitants of the Gibb household have no desire to be without a proper furnace in the presence of frost.
But that's fine by me. For this is the time of year when I'll pack up enough food and blankets to get me through a couple of days, and escape with my laptop and my solitude to the great outdoors. Might even take the dog for company, or perhaps I'll just go on my own. Either way it is a retreat which, at the end of the season, affords even more of the peace and tranquillity evident in the warmer months. There are fewer people around, and together with the emerging fall colours and crisp temperatures, the heightened sense of isolation just adds to the experience.
Without the buzzing of the cicada in the heat of the afternoon or the mournful call of the loon, one would expect the landscape to be far more serene in autumn.
It would, save for one auditory intrusion that is present in all seasons:
The insufferable chirp of the car alarm...
I don't have the luxury of a car alarm. My car was built before the car alarm was invented. The closest I can come to a car alarm is the fact my old car is in dire need of a replacement muffler. But if I DID have a modern-day car alarm featuring either a shrill electronic siren or a bleating horn, I think I would take the time to learn how to disable it. Failing that, I would have my key fob constantly at the ready, having rehearsed my response time in advance.
It's the least you can do in a Provincial park. A place with an abundance of chipmunks, and raccoons, and falling leaves.
The cry of the car alarm in the modern day camping experience is as commonplace now as the barking dog. A blight on the idyllic setting you have waited an entire year to absorb. And you can be sure it will always happen in the dead of night, or when the owner is out on the hiking trail or in the loo.
Yet another surrender to modern technology, I suppose. Getting away for a few days in the woods is an all-too-brief snubbing-of-the-nose at modern convenience, even if we cave to temptation and sneak in the cell phone.
And I can appreciate that car alarms have their place. If I had $70,000 invested in something that could be hot-wired, I'd be wanting an alarm, too.
But tell me, who is going to steal your SUV in campground condition (dirt, spilled soda, dirty socks...) at a provincial campground? And regardless of the privacy rating for your site, you can rest assured your campground neighbours have done a complete inventory, from what kind of trailer you have to the design of your bike rack. Think they're not going to notice some stranger hanging around your Navigator? You'll have an entire sheath of licence numbers to choose from.
The only real threat I can identify is the liquid gold sitting unprotected in your fuel tank. A short length of hose and a gas can at the hardware store is a much cheaper option, if you can find them. I've checked. I've also been noticing the behaviour of those with huge fifth wheels and RVs. Since the recent price spikes at the pumps they've been driving around aimlessly, with a look of terror in their eyes.
Beyond that, what's the worry? I mean, really.
Most parks in the provincial system put on a dandy series of presentations explaining everything from the local flora and fauna, to the history of the region and how to prevent unwanted bears and other varmints from paying a visit to your site (leave your food at home...).
Conspicuously absent is How To Disable Your Car Alarm, a polite alternative to How To Permanently Disable your Neighbour's Car Alarm. It would be the most useful item on their season program, and the bleachers would be packed.
At the very least campers could, and should be reminded at the gate to PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CAR ALARMS.
It's not too much to ask. A request to switch off the cell phone, or disable the ringer is a common refrain prior to curtain time at the theatre. And at the campground we are admonished to brake for snakes, watch for deer, yield, flush, extinguish - the list goes on. There is a summary in the park newspaper of the various indiscretions which threaten the landscape or other camper's solitude - such as yapping dogs - together with the appropriate fine.
We were so admonished earlier this year when our puppy was barking just a little too much for a fellow camper's liking. Never mind the intrusion to my solitude caused by the incessant whining, crying and shouting of their kids.
But I digress. The fact remains that nowhere, in any campground literature or rule book is any reference made, or acknowledgment given to the car alarm two sites over that woke me from a dead sleep because the owner's keys were in his other shorts.
Go ahead, puppy. Bark your little head off, I say. And when the park ranger comes calling to put me on report, he will be duly reminded that alarms are unwelcome intrusions for those of us with a preference for the calls of the wild.
Especially when the alarm doesn't come with a snooze button.