A Silver Lining in Every Cloud

Written by Julie Harmgardt

What could be more exciting than planning your first-ever family holiday? I suppose actually going on it. My brothers, Ron and Bert, age nine and nineteen, and myself, age fourteen, were wound up tight as a drum. The thought of spending two whole glorious weeks camping was almost unimaginable.

The air was thick with excitement as we packed the car and trailer full of coolers, tents, sleeping bags and an endless array of camping paraphernalia. I just knew this was going to be an adventure. The trip from Aurora to our holiday destination seemed to take forever. Finally, there it was. The sign said "Oastler Provincial Park". There was only one tiny, little problem... the park was full. You cannot fathom our disappointment. This was our first family vacation. How could it be over before it even started? Seeing the dismay on our childish faces the sympathetic staff gave us a ray of hope. There was a new park further down the road. All we had to do was continue on the highway and then turn off at Highway 559, follow Old Killbear Road and we'd be there.

We were a little apprehensive as we set off to our new destination. After all, everyone knew how great Oastler was, but who ever heard of this Killbear? As we turned onto Old Killbear Road we held our breath. What would this Killbear be like? Well, we certainly weren't going to find out too soon. The road in was rough and gravelly with loads of bumps and potholes. Now I knew how clothes felt in a washing machine. To make matters worse it wouldn't end. No matter how far we drove there was always more road around the next corner. We began to have a sinking feeling that someone had played a terrible practical joke on us.

After an eternity we spotted the sign. The words "Killbear Provincial Park" were a welcome sight to five weary travelers. Of course, there were plenty of sites to pick from. Who in their right mind would travel this far just to go camping?

We unpacked and went to explore what was to be our home for the next two weeks. Although, our "house" was quite small it seems we were now the proud owners of a very big yard. In one direction there was an endless expanse of green woods to hike and explore. Another direction pointed us to a beautiful, rocky outcrop that just begged to be clamoured on. The third took our breath away; sparkling blue waters and sandy white beaches as far as the eye could see. If this wasn't utopia, what was?

Our two weeks in paradise passed by far too quickly. We swam, built sandcastles, romped through the woods, scaled the rocks and enjoyed countless campfires. We sat in wonder watching the fiery orange sun dip behind the trees and were full of awe as the sky became peppered with twinkling stars. Although, our holiday had a rocky beginning we all agreed it had been a resounding success. Year after year we returned to Killbear. We had found our pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

- Jane Aylett
Queensville, Ontario

A Dose of Humility

Written by Julie Harmgardt

Once there were four close friends Helmut, Horst, Hans and Guenter, who shared an ambitious dream. Their goal was to build four cedar strip sailboats from which they would derive many years of sailing pleasure. Each weekend the four industrious friends would meet to work on their wooden crafts. Hours and hours of sweat, muscle and love was poured into the boats until one day they were finally finished. However, it was during this time that Helmut had taken every opportunity possible to boast about his sailing skills. He continually bragged that his father had taught him to sail in the Baltic Sea. Truthfully, Helmut was the best sailor of the bunch, but everyone was sick of hearing it.

As plans were being made for an inaugural sailing trip, another secret plan was also being formed. Horst, Hans and Guenter decided they wanted to teach Helmut a lesson. Apparently, braggarts weren't winning any popularity contests that summer.

They arrived at Killbear Park in a celebratory mood. They were finally going to enjoy the fruits of their labour. That evening everyone went to bed dreaming about the next day's big race. That is except for Horst, Hans and Guenter. Stealthily, they stole away to the boats. They were ready to teach Helmut a lesson. Part of the plan had been carried out back home. Unbeknown to Helmut they had drilled a tiny hole in his centerboard. Now all they had to do was tie a sack of rocks to the centerboard to complete their scheme.

The air was filled with excitement the day of the big race. The boats were ready for their maiden voyage. Helmut was already dropping subtle hints as to the race's outcome. The sailors, their wives and various friends were all in on the lesson Helmut was about to learn. They smirked inwardly as they listened to Helmut spouting off.

The course was set from Harold Point to the Sisters and finally to the Cousins. All the boats were performing well except for Helmut's, which kept lagging further and further behind. From the rocks, knowing onlookers were having a good chuckle as they watched the race unfold. Meanwhile, Helmut was becoming more and more puzzled as he tried everything in his power to catch up. Nothing seemed to work. As they approached the last leg of the race the string holding the bag of rocks must have broken through. Suddenly, Helmut's boat lurched forward and took off. Although, he finished last he was only about twenty feet behind.

Helmut was unusually quiet for the rest of the day. He was accustomed to always winning and earning the right to brag about it. That night as Helmut sat at the campfire still licking his wounds, his friends confessed to the elaborate practical joke. Helmut was furious! His entire sailing reputation had been scandalously ruined. And although, this complex hoax only stopped Helmut from bragging for a day, for three exasperated sailing buddies it was definitely worth the effort.

- Heinz Kloss
Scarborough, Ontario

Taylor's Tomorrow

Written by Julie Harmgardt

We had it all. Two terrific kids, great jobs, a nice home. Until, everything came to a screeching halt. Our world came crashing down. Our two-year-old son, Taylor, was diagnosed with cancer. One day he was an energetic, bubbly playmate to his five-year-old brother, Matthew, the next an extremely sick little boy with stage four cancer. It just didn't seem possible. Taylor was diagnosed with a muscle tumour on his bladder wall that had spread to his lungs. As parents it's our job to protect our children from everything evil. But, how could we stop this voracious beast from attacking our baby?

We supported Taylor day and night during his intense cancer battle. For a year he endured bouts of radiation, chemotherapy and even emergency surgery to remove a bowel obstruction pressing on his kidney. We cried and paced, worried and prayed for an entire year. A cloud of stress and sadness enveloped us. It was like a living hell on earth. At the end of June, Taylor turned three and his treatment was finished. Taylor had won the war. He was cancer free.

After living a day-to-day nightmare for nearly a year, our family was more than ready for a holiday. The doctors gave us the green light to go away. After spending so much time indoors we wanted an outdoor vacation. We thought what better way to experience the great outdoors than a family camping trip.

Arriving at Killbear we were overflowing with optimism. Our two boys were healthy, we had a cozy tent to sleep in and the sun was shining brilliantly. Like the famous lyrics from the song "Live Like You Were Dying" by Tim McGraw, we took those words to heart and never looked back.

Killbear was our place to heal. A place to laugh and play. A place to do all the things that people take for granted, when everything in their lives is going well. Killbear became our very own good luck charm.

Taylor has been cancer free since 1993. He is a big, strong, healthy teen that will forever have a special connection with Killbear. Each summer our family returns to Killbear to be nurtured by the pristine surroundings and timeless tranquility. It's our special time to slow down and appreciate our family and friends. It's our time to celebrate life.

- Frances and Ed Ziesmann
Oakville, Ontario

Imagination on Overdrive

Written by Julie Harmgardt

We were the children of the sixties and seventies. We grew up without Gameboy, Nintendo, X-box or computers. We were the "imagine" generation. Always outside playing with our friends we were rarely bored. And, if we ever did sit still long enough, it only served as time to invent yet another imaginative adventure. We didn't need so-called psychologists and children's experts advising us how, when and what to play… we just did it. All we needed was a little imagination.

So, it's a good thing that imagination is easily packed in a suitcase. Since that was one thing we never left behind, especially on our annual family camping trips to Killbear. Oh, the innocent summer days of childhood. Endless hours of cards and board games, days filled exploring the woods, swimming, boating and biking. All those lazy Killbear afternoons allowed for countless games of cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, and pirates finding buried treasures. We were little children lost in the innocence of youth. But occasionally our innocence lapsed, if only momentarily. One of us would come up with an outrageous plan; a plan of complexity requiring sheer ingenuity, perfect timing and outlandish acting skills.

One of our most elaborate schemes involved a sinister charade at the expense of unsuspecting campers. One of us would lay dishevelled face down at the side of the road, arms and legs splayed just so. The others would hide in the bushes seeking camouflage from people passing by. Soon enough an unsuspecting vehicle would approach and a horrified camper would jump out of their car, running to the aid of the severely injured or possibly even dead child. As the person drew nearer the victim would suddenly roll over as the rest of us leapt out of the bushes screaming. The shocked camper would literally jump out of his skin as our crowd of young hooligans ran laughingly away.

Over the course of several years we played this awful joke on dozens of campers. The terrified "got-you" look never ceased to amuse us. However kids being kids, our childish focus on this shameless practical joke would soon wane for the moment, as we went on to discover the next amusing adventure at Killbear Provincial Park.

- Tom DeBoer
Brampton, Ontario

Short Memories

I've always been a Killbear snob. I'm always happy to tell anybody who wants to listen how great Killbear is. So naturally when my sister and her husband, André, from France decided to visit, I took them camping.

I was hoping to show my brother-in-law a black bear, but that never happened. Much to my dismay, the weather didn't co-operate either. In fact, it was the coldest summer we can remember. So when the Lakeland Playland weather forecast called for frost warnings in July, my wife, Kathy, and I debated the need to translate this to him. Instead, we agreed to offer him lots of blankets and clothes to keep him warm in his tent that night.

Luckily, there was no frost. And they have returned to Killbear since then – now with their children. Although their kids sleep in the park, André has never stayed overnight again – preferring the comfort and warmth of a Parry Sound motel!

- Gord Mercer
Port Perry, Ontario

You can't believe my dismay when my parents whisked my sisters and me off to Killbear for summer holidays. "Woe is me". I was a young fourteen-year-old "Juliet" and I was madly in love.

Well, absence doesn't always make the heart grow fonder. After a few days of moping at Killbear I met some new friends on the beach and stopped pining for my boyfriend, Mike. Communication with my left-at-home "Romeo" was non-existent as this was in the pre-cell phone era and long-distance calls were very expensive. You can't imagine my complete surprise when Mike appeared at our campsite. He pedaled his bike from Oak Ridges at King Road all the way up to Killbear's Harold Point. He rode all day and all night. I cannot remember how many hours it took him, but I was very impressed. Now that's true love!

- Edie Davidson
Arivaca, Arizona

There is nothing worse than catching the flu when you're camping… or is there? In the summer of 1974 our friend, Ron, came down with a bad case of the Killbear flu. The poor guy was miserable, bedridden all day in his trailer. Well true friends just know how to get you up and out. After a day at the beach and the daily five o'clock happy hour all without Ron's company, we sort of missed the guy. So being true camping buddies we decided to come up with a plan to cheer Ron up. Two pieces of wood and a couple of nails later, a simple cross was soon constructed. With cross in hand and voices in fine tune we all marched up the road to Ron's campsite singing hymns. Between the off-tune singing and the hysterical laughter, Ron simply had to come out of his trailer to see what all the commotion was about. As he stepped out he was greeted by all his friends solemnly standing there holding the cross high, asking if a eulogy was in order. Well, this crazy funeral procession did bring a big smile to Ron's face; so all the effort was worthwhile. After all isn't that what friends are for?

- Doug and Linda Osmond
Barrie, Ontario