We had grand plans of actually making plans to do fun family things this summer.

It seems we managed to fill it up with something that looked more like work than play. Even so, summer has gone and fall has arrived with all its beauty and grandeur. The seasons do not wait for us to do something with them.

In a last-ditch effort to step away from work, home, and the distractions that run rampant in our daily lives, we loaded up the truck and pop-up camper and headed for the North Shore. We were not alone on our journey. These campsites are reserved months out and it's common for there to be no spaces available. Even among many other people, we did find some very secluded places to be alone and taken aback at the force of nature around us.

My wife, being the great planner she is, put together some great meal plans and even precooked much of it so that making food around the campfire would be as slick as placing it in a pot or pan to reheat. That went swimmingly as long as the reheater didn't mess things up.

One thing that did not make it in the cache of food we brought was maple syrup. I know what you are thinking. What kind of camping breakfast are you going to have without maple syrup? We managed, though it became a personal search of mine to be on the lookout for roadside farm stands offering up maple syrup and perhaps some honey to pour out over my wife's world-famous corn bread.

The search was plentiful. Roadside stands popped up often. Most had vegetable options or eggs. Both were items we already prepared. It was nice to see that even in an area not renowned for its agriculture due to thick forests and rocky ground, there were still farmers with enough to share.

I know that maple syrup could be found in gift shops and such along the tourism stretches of the North Shore. I guess I was looking for something a little more local, straight from the farmer, so to speak. That connection was never made. Had I done my homework and spent extra time on my smart phone, I could have found plenty of options, I am sure. The maple roots run deep on some stretches up north.

But in my efforts to disconnect, I didn't feel much like looking at my phone beyond using it to get to the campground on the edge of Lake Superior. And so I missed out this time.

I was convinced that I could do without the syrup and screens. In fact, I had the making of a cinnamon roll recipe all mixed in a bag and ready for wet ingredients. Kelly even packed some cream cheese frosting so we'd have an epic breakfast dessert to go with our eggs, sausage gravy and biscuits (yep, she made that, too).

I awakened early to ready a bed of coals. While the fire roared, I meticulously made ropes of cinnamon dough to wind into rolls in the base of my dutch oven. As with most of my worst plans, I'd never actually tried this over coals method before but I was convinced that it would work. Others made it seem like a breeze.

I secured hot coals for the top and bottom of the oven and figured I'd be wafting the sweet smell of cinnamon and sugar in a half hour.

In 20 minutes I noticed the smoke slipping out from under the oven's lid. I pulled it off only to have the handle completely melt through my oven mitten. Upon opening the lid I realized I had baked the most elegant looking cinnamon rolls ever to be baked - to a blackened crisp. It looked like the hardened rocks along the North Shore right as they were formed from hot lava smashing into frigid waters. My masterpiece was destined for the garbage can.

I set the oven on a rock on the far side of the campsite and sulked back to focus on coffee and eggs. It turned out I was probably the worst hurt by the loss. No one went hungry. No one shed a tear over roasted rolls.

Instead, the good things of the place outweighed what messes I was able to make. I made an error and did some research to find out what I did wrong, so I can have better luck next time. Instead of feeling down, I got to hear my son tell me that this was probably his favorite place, favorite hike, favorite moment - even without syrup and screens.