Deadman Island

Every summer needs an adventure. That's why when a good friend offered up her cabin on Denman Island for would-be travellers, J knew she had to seize the chance. She'd been working weekends all summer, missing out on trips to the Pot Holes, train rides and BBQs. She knew the days of sunshine and late bedtimes were numbered, so she strapped on E's sandals, scooped up a fellow mom and her tow-headed three-year-old (O), bundled everyone into the van and hit the road for a spontaneous three-day getaway.

Anyone who has survived a three hour roadtrip with a pair of preschoolers knows the true meanings of torture and triumph. O kept asking if they were on "Deadman" Island yet. E kept insisting on roadside pee-breaks. The promise of a ferry boat ride and some well-timed stories kept the meltdowns at bay. Handing E the digital camera and letting him take as many blurry traffic shots as his little heart desired was a stroke of genius. 

By 4 o'clock, the weary travellers had arrived at their destination.

After a glorious picnic supper, the two supermoms and their surefooted sidekicks headed to the playground to burn off the last of their energy. The boys climbed up ladders like gymnast monkeys and slid down slides like rainwater. They argued over who was faster, older, bigger, smarter.

They raised their voices and their fists, but then, just as quickly, they were friends.

That night they all slept in a loft bunk under sarongs and woke to the sound of birdsong. The beaches beckoned, so they packed their pails and spades and drove out to Fillongley Park. They found a raft and a fort, which they decorated with sandollars and oyster shells. The wind was just right for kite flying, if only they had kites to fly. That night, J read stories to the boys while O's mom baked a chocolate cake for tomorrow's breakfast (it was also her birthday -- 29 for the first time).

The trip was not without its rough patches. A wasp stung J's calf just as they were departing. E fell off a log and scraped his knee. That night he complained that the shower made it hurt worse than before. There were many time-outs on the couch and hands were raised when words failed. There were tears, but there was also comfort. It was a trip worth taking, one that may define the summer. There are treasures to be found in the unlikeliest of places and that goes for memories too.