For weeks, and perhaps months we have been anticipating a camping trip with our good friends Ben and Jane and their kids Mary-Jane, Quinten, and Morgan.

Our destination, Tuckahoe State Park, home of the famed tire park of which we have shared many photos in the past. Of course, our adventure began there.

First August conquered the tire swing/hammock thing on his own.

Then consented to share with his siblings and friends. He is reasonable and he is small. Which means consent is the advisable path.

After playing a bit, we rented two canoes. Robbi and I would take the boys. Ben and Jane would take the girls.

While our complicated ten-person party got fitted for life jackets, I spent time with Morgan.

Contrary to how it might seem, Morgan really likes me. She thinks I’m great. She just prefers an understated approach to her affections.

When I could not convince her to join me in smile…

I decided to meet her halfway. Which, of course, she loved.

Once we were all safely life-jacketed, we launched our sturdy craft.

There was great enthusiasm. I asked Robbi to sit up front so that I would have something nice to look at throughout our journey.

I show you this photo to give you a sense of the nonsense happening inside the canoe.

I can see why the folks at the rental place were so insistent on the life jackets.

Ben and Jane are seasoned outdoorspersons. So we followed their lead as they paddled from the lake upstream into a tributary stream.

We saw turtles. Many turtles. This was our first.

We saw birds and bugs and water plants.

As was my plan, I saw a lot of Robbi.

At one point, we saw a pileated woodpecker. In my enthusiasm to watch his flight above our heads, I flung my precious oversized sunglasses into the stream. It was a sad, sad moment.

But Kato seemed to enjoy it.

It was a minor setback in a two-hour excursion that featured many more turtles. We counted, of course, but the final tally is somewhat in dispute, depending on whether one is permitted to re-count the same turtles going downstream that we saw on the way up.

Two hours later, we were back on dry land. It was time to pitch our tent.

Being non-seasoned outdoorspersons, it took a little doing.

And a little coaching from the peanut gallery.

Eventually, we had something resembling a passable shelter for the night.

But then we remembered that our ridiculous, discount-rack tent has not one, but two domes, the second of which is a screen porch, perfect for containing the peanut gallery.

And for delighting the spoiled and lazy dog.

The two sections connect through a sort of zippered breezeway.

The pride we felt to have accomplished this marvel of tent setup was not insignificant.

It was roughly equivalent to the pride Quinten felt upon successfully righting this heavy log.

Once we were all set up, the  Swanson kids learned a thing or two about lacrosse.

And August learned a thing or two about shucking corn.

From his mother who is, if you did not know, something of an expert in enthusiastic shucking.

A ritual of eating followed.

Followed by more lacrosse. And more enthusiasm.

Followed by the sole meaning and purpose of camping, as far as Alden is concerned.

August was not just content to roast the marshmallow and place it on a bed of chocolate and graham cracker. No, he needed to properly lounge while consuming it.

It was a good day with great friends.

For everyone except for Iggy, who has no friends at all.

We stayed up late and got up early. August awoke with cheer, briefly disappeared, and resurfaced underneath a picnic table.

Not long after, the moms and the kids took a hike in the woods. 

They came to the end of the trail and had to turn back.

But not before pausing to reflect on the nature of nature, the friendliness of friends, and the fashion-forward impact of an orange-on-orange scheme.

Kato is the true trailblazer.

Before heading home, we drove back to the tire park for a bit more fun.  In the parking lot, we found a turtle in need of rescue.

And so we took him to the edge of the water and reunited him “with his family.”

We are home now, unpacking and organizing and collecting ourselves for the week ahead.

Those of us still clinging to consciousness, that is.

Tuckahoe is a great place. Grab some good friends and give it a try.