Recently I burned about eight gallons of diesel brushing-out 3.5 miles of trails, a six acre wildlife opening and the ancestral campsite. Campsite, you ask? Yup; in the early years it was there we camped. Eventually we purchased a park model trailer home, The Villa, adjacent to Potawotomi State Park and commuted back and forth from there to here and back. Yup; we lived in a trailer park too. And then eventually built a house (second home) and finally moved here permanently.
Over the years the Missus and I have been acquainted (and married) we've done a great deal of camping. We've camped across the breadth of Canada, south to the Gulf of Mexico, all of the southwestern US, most of Wisconsin and we even took a Jeep trip off-road across the rocky mountains.
With two homes, a tree farm to maintain and the creep of maturity and eventually retirement the camping itch doesn't need much of a scratch. Nevertheless, from time to time and on special occasions we'll still pitch a tent, and cook over a fire or a camp stove. We've saved all the camping gear and have our own private campsite down by Silver Creek.
I can bake a campfire dutch oven pizza, the best pudgie pie on the planet and have special kind of s'mores recipe in case you're interested.
Anyway, the ancestral campsite has been cleaned-up. A rough-cut with the Rhino bush hog...
Followed by a trim with a weed whacker...
The original picnic table from more than three decades ago has been returned to its proper place. I even added a Leopold bench for good measure.
We don't have electrical or water hook-ups. But we have clear dark skies at night, no bothersome drunken neighbors keeping you up until 2 AM and all the free firewood you need to roast a wienie and keep your tootsies toasty. We even have a shitter. You have to bring your own roll; butt the view is spectacular. Pun intended.
Think of it as the first iteration of glamping.
Raising a toast to fun times out-of-doors and around the campfire.
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