Journey to an Airbnb tree house: An alternative pandemic vacation

When my girlfriend sent me the Airbnb listing to a tree house at the end of the summer, it looked like the perfect lil getaway amid a never-ending pandemic.

A private forest on 300 acres away from humanity? Yes please. Adorable tree house overlooking a peaceful meadow? Give it to me. S'mores by the fire? Slap it in my face.

Juggling vacation days and other commitments, we booked our first vacation together over the Halloween weekend. The countdown was on.

To keep the excitement going, we created a joint playlist on Spotify for the drive up. Having something to look forward to was a welcome change to the unending work-sleep cycle we've found ourselves in since work from home started in March.

Port Perry, Ont., can be a two-hour drive from Hamilton depending on traffic, but we were in the historic downtown after an hour and a half.

After checking out a bookstore and a few other spots around town, we got a text from the property manager that our tree house was ready.

Andrew met us at the main house, hopped on an ATV and led us through a series of trails to where we would spend the next few days. As the tree house emerged through the foliage, we let out an excited shriek. We had found the perfect place to unplug, get high and enjoy nature.

The air was full of blissful silence.

Once we got a rundown of how everything worked, Andrew pointed out the beginning of a hike, and with the words follow the signs and it's almost impossible to get lost," he was gone.

Rebecca and I dropped our things off on the second storey - the bathroom was on the first and the bed in the loft - and found a lovely welcome gift in the form of a bottle of wine and postcard. There was also a small stereo, loveseat and chair, kitchenette and a chest that doubled as a table. Once I set up my cannabis accoutrement, it felt like home.

Ours was the only tree house on the property, though host Frank also rents out a nearby cabin.

The property was gorgeous and once we started exploring, it was clear there was plenty to take in. Ponds dotted the area along with places to sit and reflect. The crispness of the air offered a nice balance to the pot cookie I ate before we left.

Something about autumn gave the place an eerie feel that intensified the more we saw and the darker it got. There was a notable absence of wildlife.

We came across an ominous deflated basketball in the middle of a trail. What does it mean, we wondered.

A warning from a forest dweller to turn back? Perhaps a comment on our deteriorating collective consciousness? We scanned our surroundings, but they revealed nothing. I kept my eyes open for creepy signs.

Later that night we attempted a fire, but with the weather feeling like -6 C we abandoned the effort and opted instead to watch Scooby Doo inside the (heated) tree house. My dream of s'mores had to wait another day.

It was quite the adjustment to wake up in a loft surrounded by windows. So, I ducked my head under the covers and refused to bend to the will of the sun. It felt good. It felt like vacation.

The three levels of the tree house were connected with a metallic spiral staircase, which I managed to bang myself against only a handful of times throughout our stay.

The kitchenette had a single working burner, small bar fridge, kettle and french press.

The thought of the shower frightened me in a will-this-have-hot-water kind of way. It did and the whole experience was rather delightful. The bathroom was the warmest room in the house, and because everything is made of cedar it gave off a real sauna vibe. Oh, she felt luxurious.

In the afternoon, we decided to grab some takeout and check out a market with the promise of pie. Later, I ate said pie for dinner after we discovered the vegan meal I ordered littered with chicken. So it goes.

Port Perry is situated against Lake Scugog, so once we're back in town we walked down to the water. The marina must be a popular place in summer, I imagined kids with ice cream cones as a gust of wind blew through my body. The water looked cold; we went in search of coffee.

On the way back to the tree house, we stopped at Willowtree Farm. It's a cute family-run market full of all things good - like pie.

When we returned to the property a German shepherd trotted out to meet us. He stared hard and walked around the car to Rebecca's side, to stoically gaze at her beauty (I assume), then promptly trotted away. This is Frank's dog Odin and it turns out the basketball belonged to him.

We spent the rest of our afternoon in a daze gleefully walking about the property.

Escaping from reality for a few days with some beautiful fall foliage to enjoy and a tree house to hangout in is something not many people will get a chance to do. Especially at almost $400 a night.

But can you really put a price on sharing a s'more under the full moon?

Delaney Caulfield is a Hamilton-based web editor at The Spectator. Reach her via email: dcaulfield@thespec.com