Some Days You Need Blueberry Pie

And, truth be told, a cherry cheese Danish.

After two joyous days of hiking and returning to my lovely pitch at Mono Vista, today was time to move on.  I always wonder, when leaving such a perfect spot, if it is the right thing to do, to move on, but once hitched up and back on the road, it always feels right.  The thrill of the open road.  Adventure.  The Unknown in a place you expect to find it.

But it was a low-energy day for me; difficult on moving days as there is a lot that goes into hitching up, emptying the tanks, filling the fresh water and, the most difficult of all, choosing a new spot.  I had spent three days living above 8,000 feet and two days hiking above 10,000 feet, altitudes at which I lose my appetite and my body is rundown by the constant attempt to bring in more oxygen in than the world is offering.  So, plenty of sleep, but lacking energy from food and oxygen, I knew my attitude was not the best.  On top of it all, I felt lonely. 

Even though I enjoy being alone, I still get lonely--I am human after all.  And this morning all I could see were pairs:  Couples huddled around their coffee, holding hands through the park, men and women, two men, two women, but all couples, everyone with a human companion (River only gets me so far and Opus, well, his favorite song is “Can’t Touch This” unless it is twenty degrees at night then you can find him curled behind your knees.)  But, as a dear friend of mine once said to me when I said that I feel like a lucky person, “That’s just a matter of perception, isn’t it?”

Perception.  Ok, let’s try and change it.  As I set off, I tried to notice the single people out there.  Unfortunately, the two that came into my life were not all that welcome.

First of all, for those of you who don’t camp, let me just say that a lot of thought goes into choosing where to stay and, once the place is located, choosing the particular pitch.  We all like something different.  For me, the top of my Place List used to be as far away from people as possible.  This worked great when Alan was with me and we would often head to BLM land and camp without a soul in sight.  But as a single woman driving a rig that gets a lot of attention, being out in the middle of nowhere is not the best idea.  So next comes Forest Service Campgrounds.  They are relatively quiet this time of year and I had one in mind that I was considering. 

I had camped there before with Alan so I knew it had dirt pitches (my least favorite type) but lots of sunshine and should be relatively empty.  But I became uneasy as I drove down Highway 395; debating about how smart it was to be in a campground alone (as opposed to where I stayed last year, a cool RV park with (yeah!) grassy pitches) and not a lot of fellow campers.

Once I arrived in Bishop, a short hour drive from Lee Vining, I pulled into Taco Bell.  Sitting in Wurzig and eating my bean burrito, a man startled me by tapping on my window.   The one time I wished River would have barked her head off, she was quiet.  The man was quiet.  Sinisterly quiet.  He slowly motioned to his white panel van next to me and said,

              “I followed you in because I never seen a trailer like yours.” 

Followed me in?  This man gave me the creeps.  I remained silent.  He continued,

              “What does HMSBEGL mean?”

              “It was the name of Darwin’s boat.”  At this point I am trying to eat as fast as I can so I can start my car and get the hell out of there.

              “Who is Darwin?”

I warned you I was in a bit of a mood today,

“He believed that apes are your ancestors.”  Burrito done, I added, “Excuse me, I have to get going.”

That’s when I knew I wasn’t going to the Forest Service Campground.

I headed to Brown’s Town RV Park where I knew I could find a grassy pitch, lots of fellow campers and managers who toured the park after dark.

Now, some RV parks assign you a spot when you arrive (assuming you haven’t reserved something online) and some let you drive around and attempt to read the “reserved” signs yourself (this is getting more difficult as I age and another reason traveling with someone helps during moving day.)  Brown’s has the best approach:  They hand you a laminated map of the park with the reserved or taken spots marked off.  As people come in, they update the laminated maps and everyone is kept up to date.

I set about finding a good pitch where Beagle’s solar panel could maximize the sunshine between the lovely trees.  This took some time.  I thought I had found a spot, it was a little tight and it took me three tries to back in Beagle safely (another time I missed a companion, but I have learned to line up potential unseen [from the car] hazards such as the fire pit, with taller items like trees or mountain peaks—I am nothing if not adaptable.)  As I sat there pondering the sun’s location a man walked over.

              “Do you need some help?”

              “No, thank you, I am just pondering the sun’s location for my solar panels.”

              “Oh, I thought you wanted some help getting the rig in straight.”

My eyes narrowed.
  
              “I tend to park at a jaunty angle whenever possible.”  Snark, snark, snarky.

              “Well, I am right here if you need anything.”

I decided I would have to make sure he was gone before I opened Wurzig’s hood to add some oil (no laughter from the peanut gallery about the oil, please) otherwise he would be at my side again.

Even easier, I decided to change pitches.  That one just didn’t feel right, so I pulled out and parked in the middle of a large grassy field, clearly something designed for a group.  Before I unhitched I went back to the office to make sure it was ok that I parked there.

              “I am parked in 136 or 137, I can’t tell which, clearly it is a group area.”

              “Oh, that’s fine, darling”, she replied.  (Why is that endearment so much more enjoyable when it comes from a woman?)

              “Will there be other people coming into the group area?”

              “Not now!”, she exclaimed as she took her marker and drew a line through the entire area.  “It’s all yours.”  Ahh, Kitness.

After that I just had to buy a piece of her homemade blueberry-peach pie despite the fact that I had begun the drive with a cherry cheese Danish.  Clearly dropping a couple thousand feet of altitude has improved my appetite.

-K

PS:  The photo above was taken yesterday in the Hoover Wilderness.  Sometimes humans can enhance Nature; I sat in one of those seats and sketched the lake during lunch.