Itchy feet & lobster by Barbara Edwards

I’ve mentioned before that my husband gets bored when he doesn’t have anything to do. The heat wave we’ve been experiencing made it impossible to do outside chores and he already painted the living room a lovely shade of ivory. 

He asked me if I’d like to take a ride to Maine for fresh lobster. Since it’s difficult to write with him pacing through the house I agreed a lobster dinner would be terrific. The trip  is about four hours from where we live in Connecticut. 

Main coast

I assumed a drive up and back along one of the scenic routes.

Whoops. While I packed my laptop, he loaded the truck camper on our Dodge Ram. He mentioned casually that I should take a change of clothes. Thankfully I interpreted that to mean three days. 

Off we went. Then he says he reserved a campsite. Okay. I sit back to enjoy the ride. For some reason the traffic past

Boston and Cape Cod was light. The roadwork that seems a constant repair, slowed us for very little time.

We set up in the campground and headed out for dinner. I had this picture in my head of lobster.

There are lobster places all over. Lobster rolls, lobster bisque, mac and cheese with lobster on signs galore.

Here is the big but. These are your usual tourist eateries geared to handling the summer crowd. You walk in, stand in line, order over the counter, pay and wait for your tray. You take it inside in the AC or out on a patio, usually overlooking the water. I’m ready. 

My husband wants a restaurant. A sit-down, waiter, table with tablecloth restaurant. 

He didn’t find one. Not on the first cruise through town. Not in the second town.

I’m hungry, but I know better than to ask when we’ll eat.

He’s on a quest.

He doesn’t want to eat outside in the heat. He wants what he wants. I don’t care. I just want lobster.

Today we’re stopping at a lobster pound, getting them steamed, grabbing side-dishes from the supermarket and eating at the campground. 

To keep me happy. He drove to the oldest lighthouse in Maine.

Beautiful park maintained by volunteers from town.

I’m glad we went. I got two thousand words done on my WIP and lobster.

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Squirrelly Spring Season by Barbara Edwards

I love camping and have since the first time I went as a Girl Scout. There’s a freedom to being in in the outdoors that can’t be matched. I’ve camped in a hurricane while hiking the Appalachian Trail, been snowed in by a blizzard in Connecticut and dry camped in National Parks. Every experience was special and lead to more stories than I have time to tell.

I have a routine. We set-up the camper, then make the campsite comfortable. A screened room sometimes is necessary to escape the bugs. Definitely need folding chairs and fire wood to enjoy the evenings under the stars.

So we come to this story. Next it’s time to arrange the picnic table so it’s easy to use. I have a plastic tablecloth that covers the entire surface. It’s easy to keep clean and I clip the corners down to beat the wind. This time I noticed the clips must have slipped because the corner had been torn ragged. I adjusted them and told my husband we’d need to buy a replacement.

The next morning the other corners were shredded. We exchanged puzzled glances. Maybe the raccoons? The dog would have barked, wouldn’t she?

We watched for a week as pieces of the tablecloth disappeared. It looked really the worst for wear, but I wasn’t ready to get another until I knew what was happening.

I noticed a squirrel sitting on a nearby pole late this afternoon. He eyed my table with longing, looked around then hopped over.

Within seconds he’d flipped the cloth up and was removing the soft flannel lining with his teeth. I’m using the universal ‘he’ since I don’t know if this was the mommy squirrel or the daddy. My husband grabbed the camera and took pictures through the screen door.

Looks like I’m not getting another tablecloth until the squirrel nesting season ends.

Visit me at my website www.barbaraedwards.net or http://www.barbaraedwardscomments.worpress.com for other adventures, opinions and a few reviews.

    

Camping At Its Purest Form

Laura Breck

Have you ever camped in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness? It's over a million acres of untouched wilderness on the Minnesota-Canada border, abutting Canada's Quetico Provincial Park.

Motorized boats are not allowed into the BWCA's inner lakes, and there are over one-thousand of them! Which means, you carry everything you need in a big pack and 'portage' between lakes with a pack on your back and a canoe over your head.

When we were (much) younger, we'd travel into the BWCA every year in early August. The days are hot while paddling and portaging, and the nights get so cold, your deodorant freezes! But it's worth it. Once you arrive at a campsite, chances are you're the only person on that lake. The quiet and fresh air are restorative.

 

No cell phones ringing (as of today - but there's a movement to plunk a tower in the middle of the area.) You can rent a satellite phone (satphone) if you feel the need to have a phone, in case of an emergency. We've sustained our share of injuries - and I have scars to prove it - but never anything life threatening.

The last time we went in, we took a long portage - 360 rods, which is over a mile. And the topographical map showed plenty of lines crossing the path. Way, way up we went, then way, way down again to the next lake. The difficulty of the portage evidently kept other campers away because we had the lake to ourselves.

Or, it could have been the bears. I ran into a bear at the top of that portage. Hubby had already gone ahead with the canoe and I was trudging a ways back. The bear crossed my path, I banged the aluminum canoe paddles together, and made really good time down the second half of that portage.

All these experiences helped me write my upcoming release, Wild Temptation, which is book one of a series of stories about the BWCA.

Here's a little excerpt to give you the flavor of what it's like to camp in the BWCA. Hanna's trying to temp Cord into a hot night in the cool north woods:

Hanna busied herself settling their packs next to the logs surrounding the iron fire ring, kindly provided by the Forestry Department of the State of Minnesota. She walked down the gentle slope of the rock and stood at water’s edge. The sun would be gone soon, but the air was hot, still, and steamy and she felt grungy. Maybe a shower?

"Hanna, help me find firewood." They trekked into the forest in different directions.

She came out a half hour later with an armful, he’d already gotten a fire started. The grate over the top held a big pan of boiling water. She dumped her wood in the pile that was double what she'd found. "Soup?" Her stomach rumbled.

"No. I thought you’d want to take a shower before we ate."

His kindness almost brought tears to her eyes. "Thank you, yes."

He’d already set up their pup tents. "Your clothes bag is in the tent on the left." He gestured to the half-full shower bag hanging from a tree behind them. "You remember how to do this?"

"Yes."

He picked up the pot of water and carried it to the shower bag, dumping it in. He moved the bag deeper in the woods, and hung it higher in a tree.

She shivered at the lovely thought of warm water as she slipped inside her tent and found her swimsuit. The tent was a long, thin triangle, and she had to lie on her sleeping bag to undress and redress. Fastening the teeny black bikini top at the back of her neck, she crawled out of the tent.

Cord had his back to her, sitting on his heels by the fire, facing the lake.

 

She posed. "Okay, here I go."

"Uh huh." A distracted grunt, and he didn't even look back at her.

She'd hoped to shock him a little, and impress him a lot, but he stayed focused on whatever he was doing. Hanna set her soap, shampoo, and towel by the shower bag, and made her way past Cord, down the rock face of their campsite, and stood with just her toes in the water. The sun was down, and dusk skated over the lake.

She turned her head to look at him. Now she had his attention.

Cord's stare was intent on her butt. Or maybe it was her thighs.

She made a quarter turn, showing off her breasts and flat stomach. "Care to join me?"

A loud breath left his lungs. "I'm busy right now, thanks." He wasn't too busy to gape at her.

Facing the lake, she screwed up her courage, ran five quick steps in, and dove under the water. She popped to the surface a second later, barely able to breathe from the shock of the cold water. "I hate this part!"

His laughter rolled across the water, warming her from the inside.

She made her way out of the lake and dripped as she walked to where her shower awaited.

He stood and turned his back to her. "We need more wood. I'll give you some privacy." He walked into the woods on the opposite side of the campsite.

In her private glen, Hanna stripped off her bikini and hung it on a tree limb. She quickly soaped her body, shampooed her hair, and opened the valve on the shower bag.

Cord had mixed the hot and cold just right, and the warm lake water sluiced over her. She worked quickly and saved half the water for him. She dried her body and flipped her hair forward meticulously toweling it and finger combing through the long strands. It would get cold tonight, and she didn't want to go to bed with wet hair.

After about ten minutes, his voice called from the woods behind her. "Are you done?"

"Yes." She wrapped her little towel around herself, tucking it in at her breasts, and walked back to the campsite.

He came out of the woods, his arms loaded with a mountain of wood, and stopped abruptly when he saw her. "Jesus, woman."

She smiled. "What's your problem?"

"I thought you were done." He walked past her and dumped the wood. "Are you planning on putting clothes on any time tonight?"

"Or we could turn this into a nudist camp."

~ ~ ~ ~

Hope you're enjoying your summer!
Laura
~Smart Women ~Sexy Men ~Seductive Romance
LauraBreck.com
Dancing in a Hurricane is available in digital format at Amazon and in paperback at Createspace

Try Camping by Barbara Edwards

Camping opens a whole world of new experiences. Maybe instead of camping month it should be camping all year. For a writer, camping appeals to the need for quiet time to find the inner muse.

Camping exposes you to scents, sounds, touch that the ordinary life doesn’t have along with a variety of interesting people. I could tell you about the places I’ve camped, but I already do on my regular blog, http://barbaraedwardscomments.wordpress.com.

 My first time camping was with the Girl Scouts in a canvas shelter on a platform. Not too wild, but the air was clear. At night I needed a flashlight to find the path to an old-fashioned out- house.  Yep, I remember that trip as the scariest in my life.

Since then I’ve camped rough, with a sleeping bag and a water-proof ground cloth.  It had its moments as we watched meteors burn into the atmosphere in August. I backpacked the Appalachian train with a tiny tent that had flexible poles. That time we got caught in the remnants of a hurricane and hunkered in the tents until the trail dried.

I camped in a blue canvas tent at a Camporee with the Boy Scouts. Ten thousand boys, two thousand male leaders and two women together in that tent who shared the fun over a long weekend.

Then I started Civil War Re-enacting with the Third Florida, Company A. Our Captain believes in as authentic a portrayal as possible. For years we set-up a six-foot canvas A-frame just like the ones used by Confederate troops.  I learned that if you touch canvas in the rain it leaks like a sieve. It can be warmed with a kerosene heater. To be cool, you leave the flaps open and hope for a breeze. It is glorious fun.

The next logical step was a tag-a-long trailer. I found a small trailer the incentive to kill the person I shared it with within a month.  

The next year we bought a fifth-wheel that is hitched to our pick-up truck. Roomy enough for our big dog, we have traveled to Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, the Florida Keys, Charleston and twenty years of Civil War battle re-enactments.

We’ve talked about getting a RV like the Holiday Rambler or Prevost, but I like smaller. 

Maybe a class C or even a Truck Camper with a slide. We’ll see.

I hope I let you see how much I love camping. I hope to see you there, exploring the world.

Check out my website: www.barbaraedwards.net  

Camping in Yosemite by Jannine Gallant

I’m going to combine two of this month’s themes – Great Outdoors and National Camping Month to show you what I consider to be one of the most incredible locations on earth. Of all the places I’ve camped (and there have been many over the years scattered across a good portion of the country), Yosemite is my favorite. It doesn’t get any more beautiful than this magical park filled with granite peaks and cascading waterfalls. It truly takes your breath away.

I’ve camped in Yosemite off and on since I was a teenager, experiencing its beauty with my parents, friends, my husband, and my daughters over the years. There’s something about the continuity of coming back over and over to a special place that feeds your soul. And the best thing about the great outdoors is it’s always changing, offering something new and different with each season.

We camp the old fashioned way—in a tent. When I was young and a little more energetic, we escaped the crowds with backpacks, heading into the backcountry where we only came across an occasional hiker or bear. With young kids, we settled for camping in the more traditional manner, but we found a way around the hassle of reservations acquired months in advance (when luck was with you.) Camp 4 is a walk-in

campground, no reservations taken. Each site holds up to six people, and it is favored by rock climbers. You leave your car in the lot and haul your gear to the site. Sometimes you share. Everyone is very friendly. Our favorite time to go is mid-week during spring break in April. The waterfalls are raging, trails aren’t as crowded, and campsites are relatively easy to get. It’s cold during the evening, but not too hot during the day.

The only problem – no dogs on the trails! So maybe Yosemite isn’t perfect after all. I hope you’ve enjoyed the photos. For information on my books, visit my website, or purchase them from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online sites.