Bumpkin Island

So I got invited to go kayak/canoeing/camping this last weekend for Saturday.

I hummed and hawed about it the entire week and had to have several pep talks to convince me to come.

Because truthfully, camping just usually isnt my thing.

But I kept getting asked what part of camping I didnt like. Was it the outdoor activities? No I generally like the outdoors. Is it the not showering? Please. I have no issues with that... well issues - but not in the minding dirty hair side of things. Are you worried about the kayaking? Yes but no. I actually really like water, despite that new things make me panicky. Am I picky with camp food? Good gracious no. Everything tastes better via camp fire. There's something completely magical about camp food. 

So in the end (and I mean Saturday morning at 9am when we were leaving at noon) I agreed to go. But my anxiety over camping didnt really subside.

Cause yes - I'm a total stress case sometimes.

We drove, rented a couple kayaks, loaded the canoe and set out.

I paddled my little heart out against the ocean breeze that was a little breezy for my liking and decided to confess my non-camperness mid-paddle.

"I have a confession to make"

"Confess away"

"I'm actually not a camper"

"(Sassy tone) Really? I never would have gotten that from all the convincing it took to get you here and the fact that you've been anxiety-ridden since I picked you up"

"Ok, I guess it wasnt much of a secret"

Bumpkin Island was pretty cool tho.

Its a super small island in Boston Harbour. And we (a little crew of like 8 people) were pretty much the only people there since the season is pretty much over. But the weather was great. The island has all these campsites/random old buildings and this super random path that all the sudden is just covered in an explosion of bricks with a brick seating area in the middle. 

We wandered the paths a bit, and the beach. 

And we played on this awesome dock. Cause in prime summer season a ferry docks on the island (or something like that). Brent tried to skip rocks off the top of the dock (which was pretty high in the air mind you) which was an epic fail.  

And then he jumped from the top of the dock (a good 20 feet probably) into the water. Yes he tried to convince me to jump - and no I didnt think being soaking wet was high up on my list of things to do.

The funniest part of the night?

A group of us went for a walk - because in low tide a strip of land opens up that connects Bumpkin island to the mainland and you can walk across it. Well on our way back we ran into this random old guy and his two kids. They had the most hardcore Boston accents ever and the father told the son to tell us a scary ghost story - but to keep it short. Well the kid instantly put his ghost story voice to work. And when he finished his dad goes "Oh but you gotta tell them about the stone that rolled across the floor by itself." So the kid gets right back into to it and tells us in his spookiest voice that the lady in black haunted a room and pushed a stone across the floor until no one would go in that room anymore. 

Hilarious.

I did eventually discover why I am not a camper. Its all about sleeping. Cause remember how sometimes I turn into an insane insomniac and become all finicky with sleep in my nice and comfy bed? Ya - turns out, even with all the blankets we had available to act as a cushion, a great sleeping bag and Brent's pillow (which he was kind enough to let me use since I forgot one), I slept wretchedly. Like woke up every half hour and didnt sleep soundly at all. And that folks is why I dont camp. Sleep is much too high up on my priority list.