Wondrous Campsite

It was before nine in the morning when the two vans, one with GoWild on the side, pulled up. They disgorged a dozen yammerers eager to meet and greet; there was one woman.

In my boxer skivvies and naught else, I hailed their fearless leader to inquire of their intentions. "We're on an adventure!" he said.

Overhearing, I realized there was no room for me at their party and there was certainly no consideration of my presence.

Piling their baggage in front of the info board, an intense exchange went round over who had which and how many bottles; the scotch was of particular concern.

I packed and was able to leave just as the trailer with their mules arrived.

The Mules & the Only Backpack

I took the first side road I came to. Perusing my 1:24000 scale maps, it looked as if there might be water. And so it was that we found ourselves tucked into one of those special places that keeps me wandering. The stream was about 12 feet wide with a deep enough pool that, in my twelve-dollar Walmart slip-ons, made filling the jugs ezee-pezee. Within less than a minute my feet were freezing. 

The site was close to the road but the traffic was so sparse it wasn't an issue.

When I went into a roof box for something I must've hit the ON button cuz suddenly I noticed 'em.

I'd found 'em earlier in the year half draped on a tree at the far end of a forest road. The control box was about 20 feet out from the tree with the string lying on the ground; I figured it was my turn to have 'em.

There's a timer that turns 'em off at some point that's past my bedtime so I've yet to tell how long they go. But it seems a nice way to alert the late-comers that this site is occupied.

I thought about teleporting to the group of self-absorbeds to thank them for the motivation, but I was too busy just enjoying this wondrous camp at Indian Creek.