Camping at a Resort
While sitting by the campfire at Cherrystone Campground in Cheriton,Virginia (found along the Eastern Shore, on that little piece of Virginia found to the East of the Chesapeake Bay), I got the distinct feeling that I wasn’t camping, really. There was a fire at my feet and an empty beer by my side but something was amiss. The campground was too alive, particularly after the sun had long ago settled behind the bay.
The occasional engine of a monster truck sounded off a few rows over. The family across the road from us had no clue how to work their car alarm, leaving its serenade for all to hear over and over and over). The campsites were tightly packed, with few patches of land and few trees to separate one neighbor from the next. It didn’t feel particularly private and it didn’t feel much like camping.
A closer look at the pamphlet might have revealed the problem. The word “Resort” is prominently displayed and resort might be a much more fitting description. After all, there were four pools. A pool for kids (incredibly cold), two pools for everyone (incredibly crowded), and pool for adults (closed at 6:00 pm, incredibly early) were scattered about the campground. The camp store was the size of Walmart (without Walmart’s prices, of course) and sported beer (this was actually a good thing). There were boats to rent and a fish-cleaning pavilion to bring your catch. The pavilion wasn’t hard to locate; simply follow the smell carried by the morning wind.
The positive parts of the trip were brought with me. In order, that would be my family, my friends, and my DVD player. From what I understand, A Mighty Wind is just as entertaining under trees as it is in my living room. Good company can make up for a lot and, in this case, it was needed.
I should mention that the trip home was pretty entertaining. We would spend the morning and afternoon navigating Memorial Day traffic north to Baltimore and over the Bay Bridge. A traffic jam in Easton was solved by my lovely wife. A 50 mph trip around Easton is a whole lot better than a 5 mph trip through Easton. A second detour around traffic led us a community lake, complete with ducks for my son to chase. The two portable potties served their purpose after a long drive. It’s odd to say I enjoyed the trip home. My son was an absolute angel strapped down in his car seat and the detours we took not only solved our traffic problems, they provided welcome diversions to a long, 5 hour trip home.
It shouldn’t be surprising that the wife and I didn’t think much of the Cherrystone Family Camping Resort. Every thought of Cherrystone brings sounds of car alarms to our ears. My gracious offer to teach our neighbors exactly how to use their alarm was ignored, leaving a ringing first impression that serves as an unwelcome warning against a return visit.
