I am happy to be back at McLaren campsite and fortunate to be in a fabulous spot right on the water.
Granted, there are no services but none are actually required. Sites on the water have none, just a view.
“Just”, he says.
It is quite a view from where I am sitting, water and trees.
The water is weedier than a few weeks ago and the river bed is muckier. Perhaps it has something to with all of the rain and the ensuing run-offs from fields. Or not.
The park is far from being full, there are lots of empty sites, nice ones.
People have been stopping enquiring about the E, some asking how much it costs. I don’t mind telling them because they can find the information on the internet anyway.
There are lot of folks from Quebec here, some seem to think they own the place while others complain that not everyone speaks French. I do not go there.
Most campers enjoy a chat and some offer a chair and a beer, younger people are too preoccupied wrangling children or pets to offer more than a quick hellohowareyou.

A lady in a kayak going by and signing “il était un matelot…”, that's all I got as she was going at a fair clip and I really cannot run, or care to, along a rocky beach to find out what that sailor had done to be the subject of a song sung by a local gondolier.

Time for a glass of wine. Chilli for supper.