MARK MY WORD: GIRL SCOUT CAMP IS FULL OF HORSES AND HUGS

Ah, there's nothing like the great outdoors. The fresh air, the horse manure and that lovely spring pollen in the air. It's enough to make me sneeze.

But despite my body's less than welcoming reaction to life's allergens, Cherokee Ridge is nothing to sneeze at.

The Girl Scout camp in Wayne County beckoned Saturday as Becca and I attended "Day with Your Favorite Guy, Cherokee Ridge Riverboat Days." It's a mouthful, but that's to be expected. The good things in life don't fit neatly on a business card.

We hitched a ride to the camp with my friend, Jay, and his daughter, Allie.

Having grown up in St. Louis County, I'm not used to finding my way around rural America. I consider Cape Girardeau to be rural. Wayne County is a whole other world, stuffed full of tree-filled hillsides, meandering streams and more no-passing zones on the twisting, turning state highways than many motorists see in a lifetime.

Becca and I began the day with a little canoeing. We climbed into our aluminum canoe and ventured out on a small lake with a flotilla of other father-daughter canoeists.

"This is great," I thought as I pulled the paddle through the calm waters. Unfortunately, my 7-year-old daughter didn't see anything neat about it.

She told me she wanted to go back to shore. "I don't like canoeing," she said, refusing to paddle.

"Just give it some time. You'll like it," I replied as I steered the canoe around in circles close to shore.

After my cheerleading failed, I pulled rank and insisted she have fun. "We came all the way out here and we're going to have fun," I commanded.

The fun edict is a common one among parents. We can't help it. We just want our kids to enjoy life and not be stuck up a creek without a paddle.

In this case, we weren't on a creek and we had all the paddles we needed.

We managed to stay afloat on the lake until we were summoned to the shore along with the other canoeists.

Next, we headed to the stable for some horseback riding. This proved a hit with Becca. Clad in cowboy boots and a white helmet provided by the stable, Becca took to the saddle.

She rode Trapper, a 28-year-old brown horse that soon seemed to tire of the fenced-in circle of a route that he and the other horses traveled.

But with a little kick from Becca and some gentle pulling by the camp crew, Trapper continued on his journey.

Becca and the other girls seemed to enjoy their equestrian adventure while the fathers among us stood around and called out words of encouragement.

There were no bucking broncos in this group, and none of the girls acted up either. Clearly, this activity was a keeper.

Becca loved riding Trapper. She said it was like riding the Dumbo ride at Disney World, "only on the ground."

If Becca had her way, she would have been back in the saddle later in the day.

But our Scout-governed schedule left no room for more horseback riding. Instead, we chowed down on Injun Joe's fingers. There was nothing human about those fingers. They were entirely chicken.

After lunch, Becca painted a smiley face on her hand and another on mine. We stuck our heads in wooden cutouts that had us looking like Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher. A Polaroid snapshot captured us in our moment in the hot sun.

As veteran Girl Scouts know, there's nothing mankind can't do if armed with insect repellent and sun screen.

Later in the afternoon, we tried our hand at archery. Neither Becca nor I could hit the targets. Clearly, neither of us has a future as Robin Hood. At least we didn't wound ourselves or any of the other girls and their dads.

We wrapped up our day at camp with the Tom-Sawyer-like whitewashing of a fence. The clear goal was for the kids to paint the fence sections and make a big mess while the dads tried to hold up the sections without getting covered in white paint.

Becca and Allie ended up with a good paint job on their arms and legs. Some paint also ended up on me. Jay avoided the mess by opting to photograph the whole event for posterity. But then he'd been through all this before with his older daughter. In life, there's only so much whitewashing you can take.

In the end, Becca, Allie and I washed off the water-based paint with a garden hose. Soon, we all climbed back in the van and headed home.

All in all, it was a good day for horses and hugs.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.