The point of this story is that when the Cleveland Indians were in town, after work I would take the subway to the Bronx, watch them lose and then take the subway for about 2 hours back to Bay Ridge, getting home around midnight. Undoubtedly during those long late night rides home I was probably around gang bangers, thieves, escaped convicts and Dead Heads. Kind of scary stuff, don't you think? Maybe not. When I would tell folks back in Appalachia (where I spent my youth) they would yawn, and simply reply that they hoped to visit New York City some day. BUT, tell those very same people that I am going to leave the 'safety' of the USA, head to the wilds of Ontario for a camping;fishing vacation - by myself - and their stunned silence is quickly followed by "Oh my .... a foreign country, the woods, bears, ... we will never see me you again!"
I tried to explain that this fishing camp was not what they envisioned, far from it, but no one listened. Yes, it was 'remote' but definitely not enough for my taste,
Tomorrow. Day 2. My Camp Neighbors.