It happens every year. As July melts into August a sad look forward reveals calendars overstuffed with desperate summer activity: cramming trips to the beach, the mountains, out on the town into the precious few weekends fall before Labor Day. A year has not passed that I have not felt this itch.

So in this frame of mind the semi-annual Otis and Buka Star Gazing camping trip came to fruition.

Last minute, bags were packed, food and water purchased, and players arranged.  We assembled at the bottom of the trail, some more prepared than others in camp gear, some with a multitude of small bags tied haphazardly together, and some with large military issued duffel bags strapped uncomfortably to their backs.

Otis and Buka, of course, carried nothing. We clamored up the mountain with spunk…for about fifteen minutes. Then true colors came pouring out of Jay's forehead in the form of sweat. He was, for some reason, wearing jeans. I was looking straight ahead, trying not to focus on the burning rubber feeling I had in my legs. Buka and Sammy ran circles around us as we climbed.

It turned out to be near a 45 minute hike up a mountain and around the lake where we ended up finding a lovely spot. Unfortunately, some eastern European dog haters also found the same spot and vehemently scoffed at the adorable swimming tricks that our dogs were performing.

But finally, the moment was ours, to share with our dogs in summery whimsical outdoorsy fun. With a smile and a splash, Buka exploded out onto the lake with phelpsian determination. Sammy, although determined, is not there yet. He tried to drown Meag, but purely out of his desire for a water hug.

And even Otis stepped out onto the lake up to his ankles. He ventured one whole foot out into the shallow waters.

It clearly exhausted him, and he had his fill of nature that night, preferring laps to the hard dirty ground.

So it was a success. Stars were spotted and one flashlight was donated and delightfully semi-annual good times were had.