S'more of Ireland Lake, Please

In the midst of weddings and traveling between Merritt & the Sunshine Coast, Josh & I had failed to even get one (not even ONE!) camping trip in last summer. We promised that wouldn't happen again this summer!

Last Sunday after church, Josh & I packed up the ol' Ford 150 and trucked our way into Powell River's backcountry. Destination: Ireland Lake. Mission: First camping trip of the year.

We found our site, pitched the tent, and spent the duration of the afternoon floating on the lake in Grandpa Jack's tin boat with the electric motor. We both started out fishing, but after about ten minutes it was just Josh fly fishing and me napping (or reading). Once the sun started to set, we putted our way back to the site and roasted Smokies & s'mores.

Bears & cougars in the backcountry won't stop me from camping. However, when it's dark and you're in the middle of absolutely nowhere...sometimes it does get a little scary. I think Josh would agree because he nearly peed his pants when my stomach gurgled and he thought it was a cougar outside the tent. Luckily, he had his axe and knife ready beside him should anything actually attack (no joke).

During the middle of a game of crib, Josh felt a sudden urge that 'the big one was calling his name'. He lept up, sent one cast of his fly rod into the lake, and hooked a decent sized trout (well, in comparison to the minnows he'd caught earlier!).

"I caught one, I caught one -- I CAUGHT ONE ELLY!"

(Elly is his nickname for me)

In my excitement, I tripped over a lawn chair (or two) to find my camera and ran over. Just as I took the shot the fish lept off the hook -- to leave Josh looking down in disbelief and a fish looking at me straight on. Hilarious!

The only thing missing is cheesies.

Reflection.

Fisherman Husband.