The sense of relaxation hits you before you step onto the pier 鈥� you feel it coming as the boat closes in on the long, bleached-white strip of sand that gives the park its name.
Just a 25-minute ferry ride from downtown Sidney, Sidney Spit immediately feels 鈥� different. All the islands do. And island camping is that special kind of vacation where there are no scheduled activities, no cellphone distractions and nothing between you and the ocean. Your sole purpose is to show up and let nature do its thing.
It鈥檚 the perfect time to slough off whatever has been ailing you 鈥� work stress, people stress, body stress, whatever. For me, my trip to Sidney Spit was the next stage of my attempt to cast off some of the body-negativity I鈥檝e been carrying with me for most of my adult life.
I鈥檝e been taking baby steps all summer, because these things are tough and big changes take time: Wearing my shorts a little shorter, getting on board with this see-through shirt thing, realizing that tank tops are excellent and my body doesn鈥檛 deserve to be buried under heavy, sweaty T-shirts all summer.
Transitioning from a sensible one-piece bathing suit to a bikini has been, of course, a little trickier, but I have zero patience with the idea that your flawed body needs to be improved before you鈥檙e worthy of a bikini, or worthy of your own love and respect.
Sidney Spit is too popular to be able to give its campers that sense of escape that our province鈥檚 more remote vacation places provide, but that鈥檚 a pro, not a con. The Sidney Spit experience is characterized by the friendliness of your fellow campers. It鈥檚 a specific mentality, the understanding that we鈥檙e all here to enjoy the island, and the only sin is getting in the way of other people鈥檚 enjoyment.
The minute we stepped onto the dock, everything felt lighter, even though we were carrying packs and a tent.
There was no longer any hurry. Hurry didn鈥檛 happen here. Anxiety melted away.
We walked down the dock with campers and day-trippers, breathing in that scent of old pitch and planking that seemed as natural as the brisk sea breeze.
We passed the lines of pleasure craft tied up at the dock. Their inhabitants smiled at us as they lounged on their decks, sun-tanning.
White sand, blue sky, clear water 鈥� the beauty of the Spit felt unparalleled 鈥� but of course that鈥檚 a lie, because our coast is lousy with islands whose sole purpose is to wallop you over the head with their breathtaking magnificence.
We dumped our packs down at the edge of the field, already warm and heavy with the scent of hot, ripe grass, and set up camp. The campsite was small and cozy, full of people smiling at each other and clearly not caring about what anybody else wore. Camping is the easiest way in the world to feel proud of your body: Your body is strong! It lifts! It carries! It hikes! It鈥檚 doing it all in a bathing suit, look at it go!
Nobody鈥檚 going to judge your bikini when you鈥檙e camping in paradise 鈥� or, if they do, you can shake your head sadly at them, because they鈥檝e clearly got their priorities wrong. They are to be pitied for their worldly concerns.
It鈥檚 hard to feel bad about some cellulite when you鈥檙e drinking a beer and watching a sunset explode against a backdrop of misty indigo islands, is my point.
I now have some dramatic sunburns in interesting new places, so please learn from my mistakes 鈥� sunscreen is an important tool on the path to body-positivity. But if you can feel great about your body while camping, then it becomes that little bit easier to love your body when you鈥檙e back in the real world.
