The Last Stop on the Chronic Journey

KOA Kampin Kabin in Saulte Ste Marie, Ontario where we spent the night
before this part of the adventure

Entering Bear Country

We now begin the last segment of this narrative which involves a double narrative - actually a triple narrative if you include the photographs: the narrative of our travels along with the narrative of the increasing chronic affects/symptoms.

I find it fascinating that this last segment is in bear country as I've always identified myself as a bear such as calling myself mama bear when my children were young and inneundos about the "den" such as not being the youngest bear in the den, etc.

Killbear Provincial Park

However, here we're talking about real life, flesh and blood, growling bears.  Right in our campground.  But fortunately not in our campsite - that we know of.

We're well familiar with the practices involved in clean camping as we did canoe camping prior to this adventure.  Everything that has any smell to it, not just food but deodorant, soap, etc., goes in the locked car or up a tree if you're in the back country with no access to your car.  All coolers, stoves, etc. are also locked in the car.

We'd camped at Killbear Provincial Park years ago when our children were still young.  We saw a bear cub scampering around which was removed.  We never saw a bear that time.

However, this time was different.  Things had changed in the intervening years since that camping trip in the 90s and this one in 2011.

Bear Spray
We've never had to use it so don't
know if it works

As I mentioned, we never saw a bear ourselves this time but nightly we heard the air horns go off meant to scare the bear away.  We talked to people who had been involved in bear encounters in the park.  One man told us that the bear was at the back of his truck ignoring him completely and trying to pry the cover on the bed of the truck loose to get at the goodies underneath it.  Here we were camping in a small tent which a bear could easily rip apart.  There was nothing solid between us and the wildlife. 

Our Camp Site At
Killbear Provincial Park

Scary.

I did what I always do in such situations: i did everything I knew to do and then asked God to take care of the rest.  It's worked in the past; it worked in this instance as well.

We slept and awoke safely in the morning.  There was a camper on the site next to us so they had solid walls between them and any wildlife.  The woman told me in the morning that she'd wondered how we were doing in our little tent.  I told her about doing what I knew to do and then asking God to do the rest.  But she didn't understand what I was saying.

Waiting for the Sunset

You can probably sense a theme in my ramblings about this trip in that we were largely revisiting places we'd been before.  Places that provided at least a semblance of a comfort zone.  Being in our small canoe camping tent rather than our larger one as it created a sense of comfort and safety.  During that time, small became better than large.  Isolated better than crowded.  Nature better than cities.

Tandem Kyack

I could tolerate people in small doses and large distances.  For example, in the next campsite or further along the beach.  But close up and personal, such as in the washroom ... NOOOOOOO.  Hypervigilence, anxiety, fear.  They all came crowding in.  At that point, as these were still in their infancy in my chronic experience, I didn't have the coping skills I've developed since.

Kyacking Georgian Bay

As long as hubby was with me, I was more or less OK.  However, hubbies aren't allowed in the women's wash room.  That I had to figure out how to handle on my own.

Fatigue was also getting increasingly worrisome.  I went to sleep early.  Very early.  And woke up as tired as if I hadn't slept at all.  I often had to lay down mid down unable to move.

Interesting Rock Formation

Yet, contrasting the physical affects was the incredibly rugged yet peaceful scenery we were surrounded by.

Hubby had been wanting to try a tandem kyack, so we did.  It was a beautifully calm day, the day we rented it.  But the weather changed drastically over night and the wind came up.  So the day we took it out at Snug Harbour, the weather and the water were anything but calm.

Sunset

But we went out anyway.  I loved it!  In a kyack, you're down low close to the water and your lower half is enclosed.  The kyack rolled with the waves.  I found it exhilarating.  Like being in a down low, roller coaster with no fear of running off the tracks.

Hubby found it too enclosing for his longer legs.

But what an experience!

Even though that was probably the last of my limited energy for a while to come, I have that memory and those pictures to look back on.  To enjoy.  To remember that even in the bad times, there is something good, something enjoyable.

We left and went to nearby Parry Sound, again another "comfort zone" for me and checked into a motel we'd been to several times before.  By that time, I was so fatigued that I had to rest for several hours lying prostrate and unmoving on the bed before I could even contemplate going out for a meal.

My best purchase ever: a rope hammock so that I could lie down outside rather than in the tent when I couldn't do anything else.

The rugged landscape of that area

Our tent site which while not frequented by a bear during our time there, was visited by deer.

Ready to capture the sunset.  Each day was different.  A final farewell to our adventure.

While this post is the ending of that particular trip, that short segment of my life where the chronic symptoms began, it is not an ending, but rather a beginning.

A beginning of the real journey post workplace abuse towards recovery both physical and psychological.

I hope you will continue with me on the journey.