Camping with Stinky, Again.

The trick to traveling and living in extremely cramped quarters is to remain organized. Everything in its place and it goes back to its place or you end up rooting around for your PJs in the rain.
Second trick is to keep the car clean. It took Cole less than a day to throw that rule out the window. Mr. Fussy Britches decided he didn't want his breakfast, so he dumped his bowl in my sleeping bag. Canned pheasant over kibbles.

Here he is feeling apologetic, trying to creep into my lap.
Not to be a hypocrite, I have to admit that I contributed to the mess with my single serving peanut butter packet. The oil separation makes it necessary to fully knead the packet to reconstitute.

 Not something that should be done late at night, on the freeway, doing 80 mph, after half an hour of forearm workouts.

The packet had ruptured and I didn't notice for the longest time. One must therefore knead gently. I did salvage most of the PB on the steering wheel though.
Once we'd arrived in Canada, I stopped at a cheese factory. The owner granted me permission to let Dummy run in the field behind the building. Cole quickly discovered where they dump the whey and spoiled milk.

Doesn't he look smug?
In spite of washing him with my laundry detergent, he's still aromatic.
My goal in all this was to buy curds. Best when they're fresh and squeaky.

So delicious that I had to share. Later that day, I regretted giving the King of Flatulence so much cheese.

Our first running stop of the day was at McGregor Point Provincial Park.  A dog beach and miles of trails along Lake Huron. 

His Majesty.

...in Lake Huron.

On the trail, we saw turkeys, a garter snake and one porcupine that had Cole thinking it was a really fluffy cat.

Wrapping myself around a tree was the only way to stop him from dragging us right into it. My genius now has health insurance, but still...

Between the dog washing and flower gazing,

(wild Bachelor's Button)

(definitely domesticated Hibiscus)

I was cutting it close to make it to Bruce Peninsula/ Cyprus Lake campground before closing. When I got there, something about the group that was there camping had my Spidey Senses tingling. I listened to my instincts and went to Plan B: a private campground a few miles away. 

The wind howled and it poured overnight. Guess what windfall I found at first light?

I was sitting in an old apple orchard.

Five different heirloom varieties including one crab apple I recognized as 'Dolgo'. Oh, there's a bagful in the trunk today!

With all that's been spilled, stored and stinking in the car now, I shall rechristened the Hyundai: Bear Bait.