After two trips to Cape Cod to iron out all of the wrinkles that are inherent to buying a new (used) camper, we figured we were ready for the big leagues. Brooke's parents Phil (whom you might recognize from our fishing trips) and Donna were interested in coming with us, so Brooke flexed her vacation planning muscle and reserved a site at Mohawk Trail State Forest, in far northwestern Massachusetts just south of the Vermont border.
We headed west right after work on Friday and two hours later found ourselves setting up the camper with our headlamps on. Dark or not, it still only took ten minutes or so to position the camper in the optimal spot in the site, set it up, and crack a cold beer. We sat around listening to the flow of the Cold River for a few hours before crawling into bed for the night. It was a cool night, in the low 50's, so the flannel sheets on our bed felt like a million bucks.
Hunter woke everyone up a little after seven o'clock but unfortunately didn't offer to get the coffee started. I was more than willing, though, so I quickly brewed up two carafes of coffee on the two-burner stove while Brooke made blueberry pancakes on the griddle over the fire. Once breakfast was over and the dishes were washed, it was time to commence our day. We all hopped in my dad's Tundra and drove fifteen minutes away where Phil and I were dropped off along the Deerfield River to fly fish for trout. We donned our waders and gave it the ol' college try for three hours before calling it a day. That, and our ride had arrived. Hunter, Brooke, and Donna had walked around the neighboring town of Shelburne Falls, MA while we fished, and now it was time to return to the campground for lunch. Once back at the camper, Donna and Phil prepared our lunch of lobster rolls, chips, and cole slaw while Hunter and I threw rocks in the river behind our campsite. As you can see below, throwing rocks quickly transformed into a full-on swim for Hunter and despite water temps that had to be no warmer than 50*, he was in no rush to get out. We spent the remainder of the afternoon sitting around the campsite and just enjoying our setting. Before dinner we were treated to a few rounds of shrimp and scallop shish kabobs before tossing some behemoth t-bones and corn on the cob on the cast iron grate over the fire pit. In between courses, Donna managed to figure out the enigma known as our awning. Problem solved! We spent the remaining hours after dinner doing what we do best - imbibing. We were forced into the camper a little prematurely when the heavens opened and it proceeded to pour for the majority of the night. Bed time came early after such a busy day, and for the second night in a row our flannel sheets proved worthy of every dollar we spent on them.
The rain subsided a little before daybreak, which allowed us to escape the relative confinement of the camper and make breakfast and enjoy our coffee outside at the picnic table. It was Brooke's turn to "throw rocks" with Hunter down at the river while I brewed coffee and cooked our breakfast of scrambled eggs with peppers and onions and some homefries. Phil and I broke everything down and packed up the camper while Brooke and Donna washed the dishes and tidied everything up. We said goodbye to a campsite that's now an instant favorite, and my teary-eyed son waved goodbye to his new best friend, the river. Ten or so miles down the road, we pulled off and parked in a turn-around so Phil and I could fish for another hour. The girls let Hunter run around the sandy edge of the river while Phil and I cast our lines with the assistance of a steady tailwind. We managed to keep our cold streak going strongly, so at the urging of our better halves we put the fly rods away and continued heading east towards home. We stopped halfway in the town of Erving, MA (pop: 1,467) for lunch and were in for a surprise - the good kind. The Box Car serves a pretty mean BLT and mushroom and swiss burger!
As you can tell from the write-up above and the slideshow below, this camping trip was as good as we hoped when we bought the camper earlier this summer. We might not get out again this year, but when 2013 rolls around we will certainly find ourselves back at this campground at least once.
We headed west right after work on Friday and two hours later found ourselves setting up the camper with our headlamps on. Dark or not, it still only took ten minutes or so to position the camper in the optimal spot in the site, set it up, and crack a cold beer. We sat around listening to the flow of the Cold River for a few hours before crawling into bed for the night. It was a cool night, in the low 50's, so the flannel sheets on our bed felt like a million bucks.
Hunter woke everyone up a little after seven o'clock but unfortunately didn't offer to get the coffee started. I was more than willing, though, so I quickly brewed up two carafes of coffee on the two-burner stove while Brooke made blueberry pancakes on the griddle over the fire. Once breakfast was over and the dishes were washed, it was time to commence our day. We all hopped in my dad's Tundra and drove fifteen minutes away where Phil and I were dropped off along the Deerfield River to fly fish for trout. We donned our waders and gave it the ol' college try for three hours before calling it a day. That, and our ride had arrived. Hunter, Brooke, and Donna had walked around the neighboring town of Shelburne Falls, MA while we fished, and now it was time to return to the campground for lunch. Once back at the camper, Donna and Phil prepared our lunch of lobster rolls, chips, and cole slaw while Hunter and I threw rocks in the river behind our campsite. As you can see below, throwing rocks quickly transformed into a full-on swim for Hunter and despite water temps that had to be no warmer than 50*, he was in no rush to get out. We spent the remainder of the afternoon sitting around the campsite and just enjoying our setting. Before dinner we were treated to a few rounds of shrimp and scallop shish kabobs before tossing some behemoth t-bones and corn on the cob on the cast iron grate over the fire pit. In between courses, Donna managed to figure out the enigma known as our awning. Problem solved! We spent the remaining hours after dinner doing what we do best - imbibing. We were forced into the camper a little prematurely when the heavens opened and it proceeded to pour for the majority of the night. Bed time came early after such a busy day, and for the second night in a row our flannel sheets proved worthy of every dollar we spent on them.
The rain subsided a little before daybreak, which allowed us to escape the relative confinement of the camper and make breakfast and enjoy our coffee outside at the picnic table. It was Brooke's turn to "throw rocks" with Hunter down at the river while I brewed coffee and cooked our breakfast of scrambled eggs with peppers and onions and some homefries. Phil and I broke everything down and packed up the camper while Brooke and Donna washed the dishes and tidied everything up. We said goodbye to a campsite that's now an instant favorite, and my teary-eyed son waved goodbye to his new best friend, the river. Ten or so miles down the road, we pulled off and parked in a turn-around so Phil and I could fish for another hour. The girls let Hunter run around the sandy edge of the river while Phil and I cast our lines with the assistance of a steady tailwind. We managed to keep our cold streak going strongly, so at the urging of our better halves we put the fly rods away and continued heading east towards home. We stopped halfway in the town of Erving, MA (pop: 1,467) for lunch and were in for a surprise - the good kind. The Box Car serves a pretty mean BLT and mushroom and swiss burger!
As you can tell from the write-up above and the slideshow below, this camping trip was as good as we hoped when we bought the camper earlier this summer. We might not get out again this year, but when 2013 rolls around we will certainly find ourselves back at this campground at least once.