BY SARAH NIGBOR Northwoods camping at its finest

Whew! I need a vacation from my vacation. Being back at work is almost restful compared to the 2022 Nighor Northwoods Camping Extravaganza.

My husband, four kids and I decided to tent camp in state parks/campgrounds across the Northwoods for seven nights and eight days. We wanted to show the kids places that are dear to our hearts without breaking the bank (which might have broken anyway when you factor in four kids who are never full, gas prices and a soft mom who gives in to souvenir pleas). We spent two nights at the headwaters of the Mississippi River at Lake Itasca, two nights in the Tower/Ely area on Lake Vermilion at Hoodoo Point, one night at Split Rock Lighthouse on Minnesota’s North Shore and two nights on Madeline Island adjacent to the Apostle Island National Lakeshore in northern Wisconsin. By the time we were on Day 5, we had mastered our setting up/tearing down camp routine and it worked like a well-oiled machine. We also lucked out with incredible weather, minus a couple of passing thunderstorms on Sunday and Tuesday.

One of my favorite parts of being a parent is watching my kids experience things for the first time, watching their eyes light up with excitement or joy. This trip was full of those. Standing on top of the North Shore’s Palisade Head, seeing Lake Superior and the shoreline spread before us like a glittering quilt. Watching the kids squeal with delight at the rushing waterfalls tumbling toward Lake Superior. Seeing them dance through the tiny Mississippi River where it starts, scarcely believing it becomes the mighty river we see near Prescott. Laughing as we drive through one of the North Shore’s tunnels. Standing on the top deck of a ferry as we chug across Lake Superior from Bayfield to Madeline Island. While full of magical moments, you know the trip had to have its mishaps too. It wouldn’t be a Nigbor vacation without one or two of those. Carolina had it rough this trip. She pinched her finger in a toilet flushing handle (how does that happen?) She got her hair stuck in the tent zipper and my husband had to cut her loose as her head hung helplessly and she shrieked with indignation. A stump leaped out of the woods and knocked her off her bike. One minute we saw her, the next she was in a tangled heap in the long grass off her path. She accidentally threw her brother’s shoe in the fire. She found a dastardly slug on her root beer can. I could go on.

This is the first family vacation where I’ve had my own chauffeur. My 15-year-old step son has his learner’s permit, and he drove my vehicle most of the trip (my husband also had his truck). He did pretty well (although I might have a gray hair or two that popped up) and not many kids can say they’ve had experience driving onto a ferry or on an island. He did, however, “split a rock” at Split Rock. Not technically, but he thinks it has a nice ring to it. As he was backing into a parking space, his teenage brain got distracted by a nearby Corvette and he backed into a boulder. Surprisingly, there was no damage, lucky for him. I’m proud of myself because I sat in the car very calmly and silently as he got out to check the damage. Maybe patience is something I will master yet.

This trip also had special meaning because I’ve been battling long-term health issues attributed to Post Covid Syndrome, plus terrible sinus issues. I was bound and determined to tough it out and I did. It was worth it, but it was hard. I did not want my discomfort to ruin their vacation. Since I can’t sleep laying down (sinuses), I had to sleep in a zero-gravity lawn chair during the trip. That was not the most comfortable thing to do, but I made due.

I have a sinus surgery set for this Thursday, but it might not happen. Before our trip, I had developed swelling in my legs and ankles, intermittent fevers and nausea and heart palpitations. During the trip, it became much worse, so much so that I went to the doctor when we returned (and I HATE going to the doctor. I avoid them as much as possible.) After a battery of tests, the doctor is worried my heart is failing or there is an infection somewhere. That was a giant slap between the eyes. As I write this, I’m waiting to hear when I go in for an EKG and other heart tests. It’s surreal. My dad died of a heart attack at age 42 and I just turned 42. I’m trying not to freak out, but that too is hard. I’m praying it’s something else. I’ve always been reasonably healthy, so the last couple of months have been puzzling.

So as I scroll through the photos of our vacation, I can’t help but be incredibly grateful that it happened. Whatever we are facing, and hopefully it’s not as serious as it sounds, I will look on those photos with joy and feel the Northwoods breeze and sun on my face, hear the squeals and giggles of my children and smell the campfire burning and coffee perking.