My family and I went on a trip to Door County, Wisconsin in July of 2010, and stayed at a bed and breakfast called The Little Harbor Inn. We were excited because the brochure said the inn offered nightly bonfires with s‘mores, kayaking, grills for cooking out, and their own private beach. The only thing I could talk about for the five hour car trip was how exciting the inn sounded with all the activities.
We passed the inn up when we first arrived because we were looking for a place on the lake. We soon discovered it was not actually on the lake, like the brochure said, but across the street from it. Their own private beach consisted of some lawn chairs set up next to the concrete dock. The most disappointing thing of all was the absence of the kayaks. Instead, there was an old, rusty paddle boat which had not been launched in many years. Even so, my dad and I, being the adventurous types, decided to take it out for a ride. First, we had to hose off all the dead leaves and cobwebs that had collected over the years. When it was cleaned off, we had to push it into the water. Once we got the rhythm of paddling, it wasn’t too bad. When we got out far enough, I even jumped in and swam for a while. It wasn’t a kayak like I expected, but I would not have been able to dive off of one like I did the paddle boat.
After a day of exploring the peninsula, we returned to the inn excited for the night’s bonfire. When we saw that no one was down by the fire pit, we wandered into the lobby to find a bowl containing individual bags with a graham cracker, a tiny piece of chocolate, and a marshmallow in them and some matches on the counter. The only way we were going to have a bonfire was if we started one ourselves. My dad didn’t think it would be too difficult of a task. It had rained the last night, and I was worried that the logs would be to wet. We had to keep waving newspapers over the fire to keep it from going out. Seven logs and a pack of matches later, we finally had our roaring fire. Even though it took a lot of work to start the fire, the freshly roasted marshmallow on my s’more sure made up for it.
One night we were all in the mood for a pizza. We consulted the restaurant directory which said The Stage Coach Inn was voted “Best Pizza” in Door County. When my dad called for directions, the waitress failed to mention the restaurant was over the bridge so we drove around looking for the turn off street for about twenty minutes. We eventually had to ask a nice couple for directions. When we finally arrived, we thought we were at the wrong place. The building was run-down and there were five motorcycles parked in front. This was not the family friendly place we had imagined. My mom was a little concerned about entering, but we ventured in anyway. Right inside was the bar where the bikers we eating, but around the corner was a nice little dining room. We were still skeptical as we waited for our food, but our fears quickly vanished when the pizza came. It was truly one of the best pizzas I have ever eaten. If we had kept driving because we were afraid, we would have missed out on a delicious pizza.
My trip might sound like there were a lot of disappointments, but it was one of the best family vacations I have ever had. Even though we were promised more, we made the most of it. It taught me a valuable life lesson that I am not always going to get what I want, so I have to learn to make the most out of what I am given.
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