A Trip to Bluegill Lake

When I was about 6 or 7, my parents started taking my sister and I camping most weekends during the summer.  We went to Bluegill Lake Campground, a small campground centered on a small lake, and thus the name of the campground.  It wasn't fancy, the campground didn't have a ton of amenities, but it provided the basics, along with a relaxing and friendly atmosphere.  As I grew older, I became less and less enamored with camping (particularly the sleeping in the tent bit), but I have fond memories of these summer weekend excursions.

After spending several years at Bluegill Lake, my parents eventually took the trailer and experienced a variety of other campgrounds over the past several years.  Some summers, they didn't get a lot anywhere, and just made various trips around the state of Michigan (and sometimes to northern Indiana).  But last year and this year, they decided to head back to Bluegill Lake.  They, I believe, enjoyed its "smallness," and the quietness and relaxed nature such smallness brings.  This year, there lot is shaded, with a nice view of the small lake.

This past weekend, Jackie, Maia, and I headed up for my first trip back to Bluegill Lake in several years, and what was obviously Maia's first trip.  We broke up the travel time by stopping for lunch in Grand Rapids at the always kid friendly Red Robin, which has quickly become one of our favorites to enjoy with Maia.  Jackie always get the classic cheeseburger while I have gotten a different burger almost each time we've been there.  Maia, well, she's a fan of the chocolate milk.

Enjoying chocolate milk in pig tails!

Following lunch, we completed our trip to the nether regions of north central Michigan and Bluegill Lake, and Maia hit the ground running in exploring every inch of my parents campsite.  Maia, who is quickly approaching 18 months, is at the stage where she runs everywhere, with little fear or apprehension.  Its breathtaking to witness, and involves breathlessly chasing after her, especially when handling some of the quirks that can come with camping - whether it be a sloped area leading to a small valley before the lake or heading out on a dock to get a closer look at the water.

"Camping?"

"I want to go over there!"

"I hereby declare this to be 'Maia Lake.'"

Due to travel time, we only had about 5 hours or so to visit.  But it felt like a packed 5 hours.  Maia enjoyed the special treat of Fritos handed out by Grandpa and Grandma.  She sat and had blueberries and cheese with Aunt Amanda.  She learned how to open and closed the door to Grandpa and Grandma's trailer.  I enjoyed conversations with my sister prior to dinner, and then we all shared a wonderful dinner (chicken w/ baked potatoes) on the deck, on just a beautiful late May day.

Following dinner, my sister headed back home, Maia, Jackie, and Grandma went to the beach, while my Dad and I stayed back and shared some good conversations.  It was a "good" day.  I put the good in quotations because I struggle at capturing the day....It was a day where I just enjoyed being part of my family, and the relationships I have with my sister, my dad, my mom, my wife, my daughter, and seeing it all come together.  It was meaningful.

Relaxing at the beach with Grandma.

"So I use this thing...."

"...and put the sand in here?"

"Now what?"

"Hey, have I shown you my lake?"

Following the beach trip and a quick clean up, we headed back, figuring Maia would sleep most of the way back home.  She fell asleep within 5 minutes of leaving the campground.  We needed to stop for gas, and did in a Big Rapids, about 40 minutes later, before starting the journey south.  Maia woke up at the gas station, though not a surprise with the opening and closing of car doors.  What was very surprising, was listening to Maia jabber at us the entire two and a half hour drive home.  Apparently, she had a good time and wanted to make sure we knew about it right away.

It was a long day, but, again, one of those good, meaningful, memory making days of simple pleasures and experiences with family.