Call it what you will. Victoria Day, the May 2-4 weekend, I’ve even seen Vicky Weekend a few times lately, but for many of us, it is the unofficial kickoff to summer.
I can remember when I was much, much younger and far more foolish, a bunch of us would always say we were having our annual fishing weekend. Only somewhere along the line we decided amoungst ourselves that fishing gear should not be brought on our fishing trip, because there were things like hooks and knives. You know. Sharp objects. Someone could get hurt. Yet somehow we survived, but many of us still mark the weekend as the start to more time spent outdoors.
I know there are likely to be many people who will be dusting off the camping gear or opening up the cottage this weekend. It becomes a tradition, in many ways, no matter what the weather. I have seen snow on the Victoria Day weekend, but thankfully, that is a rare occurrence. Not that it will matter to many.
Each year there are many of us who head off into the great outdoors, get thoroughly chewed up by various insects, end up cold, wet and uncomfortable, and yet, for some reason, we forget all that before the next year rolls around and repeat the process on an annual basis. There’s just something about it.
I lived in Newfoundland for a few years, and this was the weekend when large numbers of people would head for the outdoors there as well. It seemed like ever spot where a tent could be pitched or a trailer parked was taken. Many of them in gravel pits along the side of the road. Your tent might be in a gravel pit, but it was only a short stroll over a hill to find a river or pond where you could catch a trout or three. If you could find a piece of shoreline without someone standing on it.
But it’s almost like a signal goes off. We are all somehow set free to head out into nature, and many take advantage. And I will probably be one of them.
Warn the trout. I’m on my way.
