“Remoted” – Day 386 (Tuesday)

Not the actual cabins, but close enough.

At recent team meetings, we’ve been reminded about scheduling vacation time, which has me thinking about vacations to come, and vacations of ago. There have been many good vacations – defined as including any combination of fun, relaxation, and/or entertainment.

As great as the fun vacations were, the cloud of one particular vacation lurks in the background. While married to ex-husband two (aka X2), we took a vacation with his parents and family friends to Gananoque, Ontario, Canada, “the gateway to the 1,000 islands,” to stay in cabins near the water. 

The trip began with a flight from Tennessee to Pennsylvania to meet up with the in-laws, followed by a planned early morning departure by car from Pennsylvania to Canada. There were several cars in the plan, and we were passengers with X2’s parents. Everyone else had been to Gananoque and the specific cabin resort where the tidy white cabins were arranged in a semi-circle around a large grassy area. I was the newbie.

There was a hiccup at the start when X2 and I arrived at the beautiful Allentown, Bethlehem, Easton airport and our luggage did not. We were told it might arrive on the first flight in the morning, due a couple hours after our vacation caravan was scheduled to leave for our international adventure. On the way to the in-law’s home we stopped at WalMart for toiletries and pajamas. The next morning, our luggage had still not arrived, and the airline offered to deliver it to our destination in Canada. The in-laws, X2 and I drove off, a couple hours behind schedule, and half of us were missing our carefully curated vacation clothes. Somehow, the luggage beat us to Canada and was at the check-in desk when we arrived.

The week had a schedule. I was the only one unaware of any of the key aspects of the plans for the week. Every day at 8:00 am we went out on the boat and fished until noon. After a one-hour lunch, it was back on the boat for another four hours. The houses on the islands were beautiful and mink ran along the rocks. We returned each day empty handed, because except for Friday, all the fish were tossed back. I was great with the release part, but it felt stupid to bother doing the catching. It seems cruel to lure a fish with bait and a hook it by the mouth, yank it out of the water, get the hook out, and send it back into the water. Let’s just let the fish enjoy their day without the confusion and trauma.

Once docked for the night, the men played horse shoes and drank beer and hung around outside the cabins. Inside the cabin, my mother-in-law and I cooked, served, and cleaned up after dinner. Then we cleaned the cabin. Apparently, only the guys were on vacation, and the women had been conscripted to labor camp. On Friday, the fish caught on all the boats were kept and the guys cleaned and cooked them. 

Because every one else in our group of four cabins had been to the cabin resort in Gananoque many times, they weren’t interested in sightseeing. Nearly every evening, they sat around talking about all the activities done on previous trips. Once, we all went into town for ice cream, and one day I managed to stay at the cabin and not fish. The plan was to watch the Tour de France, but my rest day from Labor Camp was also a rest day for the Tour. I read a book instead. 

There was a huge temptation to run away from hard labor camp, which would have required stealing both the keys and my father-in-law’s car, and trying to navigate out of Canada without a navigation system in the days before having a cell phone. Despite the potential for great excitement and a huge improvement in my Gananoque so-called “vacation,” running away was ruled out. It was the longest, most laborious vacation ever, and I hope to never repeat it.