Grandpa invited us (well, the boys) to their Father’s/Son’s Campout. Unfortunately, for mom this fell on Mother’s Day Weekend. We’ll just leave it there before we get her all riled up again 
. Ben and Andrew were SO excited. Thanks to mom, by Friday afternoon we had the car loaded up with just about every goody and treat you could imagine wanting along with all the gear we would need to brave the wild 1/2 mile from Mona’s residential zone.
The campout was at Burraston Ponds, which gave the promise of fishing and canoeing. Unfortunately, the sign for the turn off to Burraston Ponds was nearly blank from weathering. We were the first ones there and we were going on internet directions without the GPS. After about 1 1/2 miles into farmland I pulled over at an auto garage (seriously, I don’t know what it’s doing out there but I’m pretty sure cows haven’t learned to drive yet). For some reason, when talking to certain groups of people I alter my dialect unintentionally. I don’t know why, but it’s something I’ve always experienced. So as I approached a group of 3 guys in overalls shooting the breeze I rolled out my query in some sort of hick twang. As soon as I spoke I prayed I would be able to keep it up lest they think I was making fun of them. I had visions of getting the crap kicked out of me while Andrew and Ben watched from the car. I was kindly informed that if I back tracked to the top of the hill there would be a huge sign marking the turn-off that I would just slap myself for missing the first time.
As it turned out, when I got to the top of the hill I felt like going back to slap the guy. The ‘huge’ sign was about 3’x3’ and it was so weathered it looked like a piece of rusty sheet metal tied to the fence. If you tried really hard, you could make out the lettering that once existed.
Given that we were crashing someone else’s campout we didn’t know who to look for at the ponds. We decided to do some fishing while we waited for more familiar faces. After Ben caught himself a tree branch and we got frustrated with having left our recent fishing supply purchase somewhere other than the tackle box, we decided we could drive back into Mona pretty quick to a fishing supply store we passed on the way. Of course, it happened to be a wholesale fishing supply store that very adamantly did not sell to the public. Really? A wholesale fishing supply store in Mona? Who do they sell to? Not to any other local public fishing stores as far as we could tell.
Stymied again we decided to go for a short hike while we waited. Ben found a new potential hiking stick, but soon found enough flaws in it to discard it.
Soon after, Uncle Alex and Uncle Dan arrived and we procured a choice camping spot. We got the tent set up and went for a little canoe ride while Dan and Alex tried to figure out how to set up a tent. It did make you wonder if they’d ever really been Boy Scouts. Caden, got fed up with trying to show his dad how the tent really worked and joined us.
Having finally got a place to sleep somewhat assembled, Uncle Alex decided to sink a raft. We’re not really sure where he thought he was trying to go.
We also enjoyed fishing and smore’s and lots of good stuff.
I know that the pictures make it look like an idyllic bedtime on the campout, but that was far from the truth. I mistakenly let Andrew get overtired and ended up having to put him the car screaming so that I could take him for a drive. Luckily, that did the trick. That wasn’t the worst part of the night, however. Throughout the night we were treated to the loudest chorus of cows I have ever heard. I couldn’t stand it. Finally, 4 1/2 hours later I was up for the rest of the day. I’m now inspired to write a hit new smart phone game called “Angry Cows” where, as opposed to an existing game, the cows are NOT the aggressors. I envision it as an educational tool for kids to learn the different cuts of meat a cow can be divided up in.
Saturday, was a lot of fun. We broke camp, fished and canoed, and made official monogramed hiking sticks from rough cut maple staffs.
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