Our weekend in nature

The comedy started way before we even got there. Before we gasped about having to go to the toilet a la nature. Before we had to spend an hour trying to decipher how to erect Metrohom's designer tent. Even before we realised that deserted islands have no pier - that we would have to swim from boat to land.

In fact, the comedy started right at the onset, when Delta, Doobs and I boarded the crowded rush hour MetroNorth train. There was them - a cabinful of businessmen, in their designer suits and rush hour demeanour. And then there was us - a motley crew of three flustered individuals, two tents, three sleeping bags, three clothes bags, and one bag full of pillows. Tripping over each other in our haste to get the luggage stowed safely away. Panicking at each station that we were about to miss our stop. Yakking excitedly in anticipation of the weekend about to come.

"Boats, Trains and Automobiles," Delta mused, as we finally reached Norwalk and rushed to meet Doug at the dock. And there it was, their new boat. A little wonder bobbing before us on the water. The wonder which would whisk us off to the island (but not before hitting a sandbank on the way). We rushed to give Doug a warm hug.

"Come on, let's hurry up and get all the luggage on the boat," he said gruffly, all Sea Captain and all business.

It was my first time in a private boat, and I savoured every moment of the ride - the wind blowing through my hair, the fresh smell of sea air, the bobbing and lurching over the waves. Just as we approached the island, Doug cut the engine, and asked Delta to lower the anchor.

"But Doug, we're still some 50 yards from the island," I pointed out.

"Yeah, the boat doesn't go any closer," he responded, not even glancing at me.

I was puzzled. "So how are we going to get there?!"

"Jump in and swim!"

Ha,ha I laughed. I actually thought it was a joke. I mean, wouldn't you? When you looked around at the black ocean of Long Island Sound (for now the sun had long set)? When you could hear the waves gently whispering on the beach, but you couldn't really tell how far it was? When you looked down at the inky blackness of the water around the boat, and couldn't tell how deep it was?

So that's why I laughed. Ha,ha I said.

And then Doug swung his feet over the boat and jumped into the water. "Pass me some of the luggage," he said, holding the tent over his head and wading through the waist deep water towards the shore.

Oh.

And so I learnt the nature of camping on deserted islands.

And wasn't it worth it, too! I wouldn't have changed it for the world.

Not the black coffee in the morning (with melted marshmellows to act like sugar and creamer). Not the heavy downpour that first night (Delta and I huddled in our tent, listening to the rain drumming on the roof, watching it trickle down the windows).

Not even that big ember which suddenly burst out of the fire and flew into my sock ("@#$#$!, $&*%&!!, @#$&!" I said involuntarily from the sudden stinging shock. And the group had all stared at me in stunned silence. I don't think anyone had heard such a string of expletives escape my mouth before, not even myself.)

Nope, I wouldn't have changed it for the world.