My brothers are set up with a fire going when we arrive. It’s still raining so Brenna and I decide to visit the nearby campground shelter before trying to set up ourselves. Inside we find a hot stove tended by a thirty-something Canadian couple. Our gear has kept us dry but it’s still nice to peel it off and feel the radiant heat.
The Canadians have had dinner and are now using a pie iron to cook “apple toasties” in the embers — apple pie filling between two butterd slices of white bread. The lady is eager to make Brenna comfortable, offering her one toasty after another and an oversized sweatshirt to keep.
“Canada: cold winters, warm hearts,” the lady explains with a smile.
It is so nice by the crackling fire out of the rain that, once the couple have left, I bring all our gear, not just what we were wearing, in to dry. Brenna has the idea to actually set up the tent with sleeping bag and everything inside it then carry it out to our site. She’s a genius.
The tent poles flex just enough to fit out the door, her on one end, me on the other, carrying our pre-set-up tent out into the dark and rain.