Dry land adventures

While FliesWithKiwiBird's away in San Diego for a week or so, and instead of writing up this year's completed-last-week Everglades Challenge, I took the WeeOne camping in our 1972 Shasta Compact. Right on our own doorstep, aside Jordan Lake--our paddling training lake--is the quite wonderful Poplar Point Campground. Half-an-hour from home, and away in the wilds of a State Park. All for $23 a night.

Timing it just right for the WeeOne's afternoon nap, we arrived. He awoke: "Are we there yet?" I remember travelling like this with my folks--no stress.

Mat laid, chairs out, bike tyres pumped. Bless his heart--not even three yet, and we spent most of the weekend cycling around the campground, exploring the lake's beaches. This time I brought my own bike. The WeeOne rides a peddle-less Strider running bike, but I can't keep up with him now, running.

We lit the obligatory fire, and scoffed S'mores well into the night. Cannot believe how many the chappie's puku quite readily took. And, yes, we are wearing shorts--first time this year.

Camping's even better when your bunk mate wakes up with a smile on his face.

Bit chilly in the morning, but not enough not to push a few trains around while mum rustles up some scrambled eggs and bagels,

And we're off again next weekend!