Meet the Colemans

People raised in a trailer park in the middle of Essex County don’t camp. But try telling that to my outdoorsy friends, who like polar-fleeced Jehovah’s Witnesses, wax rapturously over places with uncomfortable and worrisome names like Killbear and Grundy. They’re good-hearted souls and apart from their canoe obsession have no other debilitating personality flaws. Once they set up a tent for me, my son and our two dogs. Dan escaped to the Echo. By the third night I’d resigned myself to fitful slumber, alternatively lulled and asphyxiated by the cry of the loon and Siko’s incessant and robust farting.

Image: Trip Advisor