Play It Cool

Hello World, And so here I am, back safe and sound from Vacation Land, and glad of it, I can tell you that. It seemed to be somewhat odd times out in the old backwoods this time around, although not all bad, just different. I always say, after you've been going the same place over 50 years or so, you would think that all of the kinks would be pretty well ironed out by now, but that is all too often not the case. It all started innocently enough, as these things so often do, when we arrived at the campground on Saturday morning, and they assured us at the Registration Building that both of our campsites were unoccupied, so even though it was officially too early to check in, we hurried right on over there to set up our tents and assorted whatnot. (And believe me, when it comes to whatnot, we have the widest assortment in the whole darned place, and that's not just a bunch of campfire girls, by golly.) Not so fast! When we got to C-17, we couldn't help but notice a fully tricked-out motorcycle under a tree, not looking at all abandoned, but complete with helmets, clothing and supplies, as if just waiting for someone to come on back and lay claim to it. We're not pushy people by nature, so we were hesitant to start setting up our campsites around it, but we had a lot to do and were in a hurry to get going. We decided to set up everything that would be away from the bike, and buy some time before the erstwhile owner might come back and get out of our way - which is basically what happened after what seemed like hours, until the nice young couple returned for their belongings and went on their merry way. It was right after that we spotted a chipmunk gathering peanuts under our very noses, which is the first time in many years that we've actually had chipmunks right at our site, so that was another surprise visitor that we had no reason to expect. In contrast, this year was notable for its resurgence of chipmunks, but also a general lack of squirrels (last year it was the black squirrels that grabbed everyone's attention) and the blue jays, crows and grackles, compared to previous years when they were so prevalent. This should have been enough indication that we were not in for the "same old, same old" that we might have originally supposed, not by any means. After tossing up the two tents, we called it quits, and hurried to the beach for some well-deserved fun in the sand and surf, and a hearty lunch to restore our flagging spirits. Once again, not so fast! In a stupefying turn of events, that borders on the outrageous, we discovered that there is still no concession stand open at the beach, after 3 years of the nefarious boardwalk renovation project, which first snatched the yummy cheese fries from our grasp, and left us with nothing but our memories. This was a low blow indeed, and especially unforeseen, since when we left last year, it appeared that they were just on the brink of re-opening then. Apparently the ogres in the state government decided to hurl a few more roadblocks in their way, so that even the original owner of the franchise finally threw in the towel and sold the business to another company, rather than losing any more money waiting for an approval that might never come. The new owners opened up the gift shop with a table to sell small packages of snacks, and a little freezer for ice cream, but it certainly didn't measure up to what we hoped to be enjoying at the time, not by a long shot. As much as I love Wildwood beach, it frankly doesn't have enough in the way of amenities to make up for the lack of a concession stand, and especially after a long day of driving and setting up two campsites, that's for sure. It's true the water was lovely, and the beckoning sand a welcome respite for a trying day, but I don't mind saying that our appetites were downright appalled at this culinary calamity. Following in this "different is not necessarily better" trend, we found when we went to check into our motel later that not only had they raised their rates considerably, thanks not, but they assigned us a room on the second floor, when I specifically requested a ground-floor room when I made the reservation, and once again, thanks so much not. At this point, it was with some trepidation that we approached our dinner destination of Denny's in Centereach, but luckily it turned out to be the special treat that we have come to know and love in our travels, and did not disappoint. After what seemed like a long day full of ups and downs, this was a relief, and not one that we were taking for granted, I can assure you. The motel was quiet and comfortable as usual, and the benefits of having a soft bed, electricity, and shower cannot be over-stated as far as I'm concerned. But speaking of showers, here again, we came across another of those unwelcome surprises that seemed to be dogging our heels, and that was my-very-first-ever-in-my-entire-life tick, which I discovered in the shower and clinging to my bare skin with all its miniature might. Anyone who's ever tangled with these tiny rascals can attest that once they grab on to something, it's almost a lost cause to try and shake them loose, as Bill and I realized after adopting a variety of approaches to the problem without success. We were finally able to wrench it free from my body, and could only shake our heads in wonder at this new and strange occurrence after literally decades of never seeing one before. It didn't seem so wonderful in the following days, when more of them were revealed clinging to me stoutly, and although our technique improved for removing them, it did nothing to improve our appreciation of them, which was already on the negative side of the scale to start with, believe me. Luckily they all turned out to be (mostly) harmless dog ticks and not deer ticks, so there was no danger of disease or anything, but it in no way increased the happiness quotient of my vacation, which was quickly losing much of its appeal by the minute. I seem to recall the rest of the week in a blur of bug spray all over everything, which was a kind of smelly nuisance that I wasn't prepared for, but at least it kept the creepy-crawlies at bay, so that was good enough for me. The week was on the cool side the whole time (with a few thunderstorms tossed in for good measure, thanks not) with overnight temperatures that were positively chilly, hovering around 60 degrees - which is a whole lot colder in a tent than it seems out in the civilized world, I can tell you that. I learned my lesson years ago once when there was a cold snap, and I slept in every single piece of clothing I had brought with me, so now I routinely pack a warm jacket, fuzzy socks, and comforter, just in case. I was glad of it this time around, and although I admit I slept in the car during the worst of the thunderstorms, I didn't resort to going back to the motel, which has happened in previous years. Some other differences with previous trips, besides the chipmunks' triumphant return, I noticed there were no vending machines, which may have been removed when the concession ownership changed hands, and would have been a big inconvenience if I wanted a cold drink in a hurry. Even though my schedule stayed the same as usual, I saw no deer the whole week, when these were ordinarily so much in evidence as to be commonplace on any given day. I finally spotted a few blue jays and grackles, but not a single crow, and it took until the last day to see a hawk - although a bigger surprise was finding cardinals in the park, which has never happened before in all the years that I've been going there. Also notable by their absence was any sign of raccoons, and while I suspect that they were still out there somewhere, I saw no evidence of them, which is so highly unusual as to be unheard of in those environs. Even more peculiar, I never set eyes on one single solitary campsite that I would have identified as being occupied by spies, that mainstay of my camping experiences lately, and the park seemed chockfull of happy normal families, and not the lunatics and hooligans that I have come to expect, especially immediately surrounding my own site. Overall, it was all these little oddities that made this vacation stand out from what I consider the mundane routine of the same old romp in the woods every year. Bill came back out on Saturday to help break down the campsites, and managed to find one more tick - although this one was on the spare tent and not actually attached to anyone, so it was well on its way to winning my coveted "Tick of the Year Award," if only there was such a thing, of which there most assuredly would not be, I can guarantee you that. Taking down the spare tent also revealed a tiny brown frog, while the regular tent sported a small snake underneath, which were two other unexpected interlopers at the campground that I had never come across before. We went back to the beach for the last time, but the conditions were less than ideal, and it was not the glorious send-off that we had hoped for. After that, we stopped at Denny's again along the way, which made it all worthwhile, and had a blissfully uneventful trip home. I would have to say that it was not the world's worst vacation by any means, but still did manage to fall well short of perfection in many areas. Our friends at the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation & Historic Preservation made the mistake of sending me a survey asking how my vacation was - and don't think I didn't just go right ahead and tell them in no uncertain terms - so now they probably wished they hadn't, I shouldn't wonder. They were probably less than thrilled with my dreaded "Ogres of the Year Award," but let's face it, it was the best I could do under the circumstances. Elle