I know it seems a bit mad after the night before (see "Saturday"), but waking up in a tent with a sunburnt nose and two days' worth of campfire hair really calls for a swim.
The day before Sara and I had a great swim down the rapids, but today I kept hearing that little guy from "The Princess Bride" say, "Watch out for the shrieking eels, princess!" I couldn't bring myself to jump in with limited visibility. (Again, see entry entitled "Saturday.")
So I scouted out a swimming hole sunny and calm enough that I could see to the bottom of and went for it. There was an even prettier one down the river, but I had to swim to get to it, so I can't show you a picture. Such is life.
I made it out, unscathed by shrieking eels and feeling much more awake, although my eyes don't seem to be totally opened here. In the city, especially on Sunday mornings I have long
dreams about swimming underwater in the sunlight, and I'll be damned if some fifty year-old flesh-eating eel is going to take that away from me.
By the time I got back to the campsite both the younger (Bella) and older (Mom) generations were getting over camping so we packed up and headed for a more luxe outdoor site. These are the vines at Mount Michael vineyard, just between home and the farm.
They have a pool too.
This is more Mom's kind of camping.
Here Bella really lives her dream too, luxuriating with her marmite sandwich in the water. So that's how we beat the heat this weekend.
To each her own.