A three-day camping trip is what we spent our weekend on this summer. We went with our aunt and uncle to a place called Hoodsport, which was a miniscule place hardly big enough to be called a town but hardly small enough to be called a village (plus I imagine old-fashioned huts and no cars when I think of a village, and there were definitely cars at Hoodsport, and there were no old-fashioned huts either).

We went crabbing at Hoodsport and had quite a success as far as we were concerned (although the crabs apparently weren't too happy), catching quite a few monster redrocks and one male Dungeness, which bit my aunt quite hard.

We had crab, crab, crab for dinnner, which I eventually got quite tired of, so I switched to veggies and politely refused the crab offered to me. We still had quite a few crabs and quite a bit of meat after my cousin, my aunt, my uncle, my grandparents, my sister, and I had all taken a share, and the leftover crab was given to my mother after the trip was over.

We went hiking and saw glorious waterfalls; we went swimming and came back dripping wet and dirty; we washed off our grime in rivers of snowmelt; we caught oysters in oyster-invaded beaches and quested for better swimming places; we stood on the deck of the homeward ship, the wind and our hair whipping our face; we took so many pictures we had to delete some, and even then we had to use our uncle and aunt's camera on occasion; overall, it was a perfectly wonderful experience (even though I got perfectly dirty!)