Catfish creek.

We are at Springwater Conservation area campground. A beautiful place within the catfish creek conservation authority. We are in a Carolinian Forest, a protected area that runs like a banana from grand Bend to Toronto down to the Carolinas. It contains over a third of all of Canada’s rare species of trees, birds, etc. Last night we heard new bird songs. Cool weird bugs like the albino caterpillar, a giant wasp thingie live here.

So Rod went to pay up for our site at the front gate. This is the conversation that was had between Rod and the teenage attendant:

ROD: Catfish creek eh? You got any catfish?

TEENAGER: I think they call us that cause we are right next to catfish creek.

ROD: Well if the river was full of pike, they wouldn’t call it catfish creek would they?

TEENAGER: I don’t know. I don’t fish.

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15 minutes before noon we realized that noon was check out time and not two. Everything was packed, we were enjoying a shady beer o’clock and the kids were just playing on the next site. Rod read the camp rules and we realized we have broken every campground rule in the last 18 hours! Matt walked with beer, we parked 2 cars on site, we were 9 not a maximum of 6 people per site, the dogs have not been on a 2 metre leash, we brought the dogs into the bathroom with us and we had a trailer and a tent on a site designed for one or the other.

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