Life in the big city can sometimes be a lot. I had been feeling short-fused and stressed with all the noise and chaos in Toronto this summer. So I decided to accept my partner’s invitation to spend almost a week in nature.

I’m saying it as if we just got up, jumped in the car, and went camping, but in fact, there was a lot of preparation beforehand. My partner had most of the essential camping gear—tent, portable stove, cooler, folding chairs—but we still needed to buy a few items, like a hatchet to cut wood. Then we decided that we were going to cook some nice food, and that led to a long list of ingredients, and then buying all of them.

The day before was all prepping and packing, and then came the day of the actual trip. Honestly, packing everything in the car was overwhelming. There were at least six trips up and down from the apartment with our arms loaded. We were just two people car-camping for five days—how did we need all this stuff? My minimalist self was not happy.

When we first entered the park, though, all my worries dissipated. The place was beautiful. We chose Point Farms Provincial Park, which offers campsites by Lake Huron. According to their website, the place used to be a popular Victorian resort and was opened to the public in 1970. I fell in love immediately.

Our campsite was super secluded and clean. We set up the tent, loaded our several food gadgets and items on the picnic table, and just had enough time for dinner and to start a campfire. The relaxation sank in as we sat in the dark and enjoyed the silence, a rare commodity in Toronto these days.

We had decided to take this opportunity to also disconnect from the grid. I left my phone in the car, and most days we didn’t even know what time it was. We woke up when we were done sleeping, ate when we were hungry, and slept when we were tired. Rather than making a busy schedule for exploring the region, we mostly just lounged in our chairs or at the beach most days. It was glorious.

With the quietness and the passing of days, we started to get some visitors. The first was Fred the Raccoon (we nicknamed him). We were relaxing by the fire on the first night when we heard some noises. We went to check, and there he was with our snack box in hand, one of the locks already open.

We also had other—more pleasant—visitors. There were a couple of Gray Catbirds that came pecking around at some worms. We also spotted a cute little American Redstart that was flying from tree to tree. On the ground, we had the company of some chipmunks that managed to steal some of our granola.

The birds would wake us up every morning. I don’t know why, but they all decided to start singing at the same time—6 a.m.—every morning.

I’m back in the city now, and I miss those birds and the silence. To be honest, I also missed the everyday little luxuries, such as a private washroom and shower, running water in the sink, no bugs, and no need to keep replenishing the ice if I want my food to last.

As for the disconnect, I’ll try to do more of that.