Muskoka. Even the name sounds appealing, the gooey “ooh” the wistful “ah”. It seems only fitting to be in such a great Canadian landscape for the 1st of July weekend.
For anyone who hasn’t yet spent a weekend here, I promise you it is a must. The air holds a permanent smell of smoky campfire. The lakes are always clear and refreshing. The dense forests always lush and green.
Our place in Georgian Bay has always been a haven for me growing up; a sense of nostalgia for a seemingly nomadic individual. Through all my travels it remains a favourite location. One I very well see myself returning to amid sporadic and lengthy travels.
Despite a terrifying evening spent exterminating a mildly horrific amount of flying cockroaches, a nightmarish event that left us squirmish but victorious, I can still promise it is a beautiful place.
Surprisingly that night was not my most sleepless in Muskoka. When you’re woken by a purplish sunrise sleep no longer seems to hold value. There is nothing quite like the early mornings here. Rising early and settling into your Muskoka chair, basking in all that the morning has to offer.
The most splendid moments appear out of nowhere.
Near dusk one evening a friend and I took to the lake for a sunset swim and still, just thinking about it, I can feel the warmth of the sun on the lake that night.
Let me just say it’s a view you’ll never tire of.
Maybe it’s a bit of a call to the wild, a tamed wild that is, a voice urging me back with the words of John Muir, “Keep close to nature's heart… break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”