To impress a selection of war criminals, our government recently spent a small fortune on an artificial lake and some wooden deck chairs.  Since the wife and I are not war criminals (yet) we were not allowed anywhere near this costly display.  So we decided to accept the next best thing: A trip to the Muskokas.

We were surprised to discover that real lakes and chairs are much larger than their fake counterparts.

Size is relative.

The trip was partly a much needed vacation and a chance for my wife to spend some time with my family so that she might ally with them against me.

How a real lake looks.

A few years ago, my parents sold their palatial Victorian mansion in Newcastle and moved to a resort compound in Huntsville.  Not only had the upkeep of their stately home become  difficult for a couple in their declining years, their rural deadwater of a village had become too populated.  What had once been a place where no buses ran became the end of the line.  It transformed from a bastion of rednecks into a bedroom community for Toronto.  My every childhood haunt has either been torn down, burnt to ash or turned into a subdivision.   Sometimes all three.

But the local Kick and Stab, where I was so routinely punched in the face, still remains.  I will dance on its grave yet.

Young Ryan Oakley in a favorite climbing tree.

There is something of a misconception amongst city folk that everyone who was not raised in a city is a suburbanite.  There just aren’t enough rural people in general and certainly not enough in the city to convince them that there is such a place as the country and that it has nothing to do with the suburbs.   It’s a hopeless sort of urban elitism as the word “sub” should attest.  But I am a country boy; raised around septic tanks, cast-iron stoves, farmland and forest.   I am relieved that my parents once again live in the boonies and that I can spend some time out there.

I occasionally crave that.

This was one of those moments.  There were factors known to all – the G20 etc.-, factors known to some -my roommate’s broken leg- and some altogether private reasons but this was a good time for me to get the hell out of the city.  Frankly, for the past month, I’ve wanted to walk into the woods with a knife, some matches and a fishing rod.  I would return when I felt good and ready to return.

Things did not come to that.  Instead, the wife and I got some bus tickets and headed north.  I was just as excited for her as for me.  She arrived in Canada some time ago and still hadn’t seen its natural beauty.  (Unless you count a day-trip to Hamilton.)   Being stuck in the city, she has developed a warped understanding of the Canadian character.  That’s not to assign a higher order of authenticity to country folk –I know them too well for that and, at any rate, this is Huntsville we’re talking about– but it is to say that one must see different things to get a complete picture.   She was going to see a lake, do some fishing and get bitten by a few mosquitoes.  All that is as Canadian as apple pie.

The parents and I took her fishing off the dock and she caught her first fish.  I caught my millionth.

Funny enough, that’s not her first fish.  Her first fish was much larger than that and escaped my grip before we could get a picture.  That was, however, about the biggest I managed to catch.  But what the fish lacked in size they made up for in abundance.  We caught quite a few and returned them all to the lake.  It was great fun and the wife posted some pictures, which I retweeted.

Doing that somewhat predictably resulted in this.

Which my wife saw.

Suddenly the golf game I was trying to avoid seemed like a marvelous idea.

This also made it very clear why Tiger Woods is so motivated to play this ridiculous ”sport.”

I’m no sort of philander (one woman is more than enough) and actually enjoy being around my wife (for most of the month) so my golf game is terrible.  By the fourth hole, I’d completely given up keeping score.  I’d lost count of my number of shots right off the tee and it just seemed pointless.

I’m a bit better at swimming and enjoy it far more.

And my expertise in both sitting and standing beside a lake is unparalleled.

Though, I must admit, I had some stiff competition.

By evening, the wife and I were able to put aside our sitting contest and enjoy something she had never really seen before and I never get to see enough: The stars.  The night sky is the one thing that I constantly miss about the country.  Aside from being beautiful, the stars remind me of the utter futility of all human endeavor and the complete stupidity of all our problems.  When faced with the vast nihilism of space, the complete apathy it has for anything as insignificant as a planet full of humans, I always feel a mixture of humility and exaltation.  Exalted because it’s quite clear that every problem and solution we have is ours alone; humble because the outcome is so totally irrelevant.

I’m also reminded that space is massive.  Much bigger than an elephant, which is easily big enough.  It’s also quite old.  I think that the amount of time we have alive as measured against the age of the universe is about how big our bodies are when measured against its size.  And yet people are obsessed with living for a slightly longer period or extending their control over a bit more space.  They do some pretty awful and cowardly things in pursuit of both aims.  Seems absurd.

I stripped naked and went for a midnight swim, looking up at these stars.  No pictures of that.  There’s some things that a camera just won’t do justice to and other things that cold water shrinks.

Although I forgot to shave for the duration, the trip was a good one.  It’s always a pleasure to see my family.  this was even better than usual as it allowed them to get acquainted with the family’s newest member.  You basically don’t get enough of these pleasant moments.  And you won’t.  No matter how you cut it, the bulk of life is going to be unpleasant or indifferent with occasional periods of bad.  So, when things go your way, you’ve got to enjoy it.   The rest of the time, endurance is key.  Having some happy memories is a good way to get through.

Because, fuck it, one day we all wake up dead.

Not really dead - just napping on couch after work.