In the Poconos

Played Scrabs and drank wine and spotted chipmunks and squirrels and then fireflies came out. Enchanting.

Lots of US flags at the campsites, lots of hotdog condiments, lots of tin foil bainmaries with pre-prepared food in them and little tealight candles warming them up, bamboo tiki torches, lots of BIG tents.

Massive thunderstorm the next morning and saw a tree get hit by lightning and a branch flew off. Havoc. Staff freaked out, computers down, strange burning smell coming from camp office basement. Never been that close before to a lightning fork. It was so bright I didn't really see anything.

We waited for the torrential rain to stop and then hired some kayaks and paddled down the river, wary of getting staurated at some point. We were lucky. Clouds parted and the sun revealed its sunburning glory to us who had dismissed hats and sunglasses during the storm.

Saw a beaver. They're tiny! Like a platypus. Saw a few russet deer and bald eagles and shad at the end of their upstream spawning swan song.

Lay on a pebbly beach to get some sun. Walked upstream and floated down, swimming against the current and staying still and then spinning downstream and wooshing along with our eyes open underwater, the rocks whizzing by. Sprinted through tadpole-infested shallows and did it again.

When we got back to the campsite the lightning tree had been felled and all 50 metres of it lay in the carpark. The lightning had split it in half. You could see the burnt timber right through its core to the stump in the ground.

Within moments of us being back at camp the thunder rolled again and we hightailed it back to the train, back to Hoboken, back to NYC.