Setting the Bar Really High

 

Greetings from the Dungeness Recreation Area near Sequim, Washington.  Yes, a long way from Alturas Lake, Idaho, where I left you on my last full day.  Which means I didn’t get to tell you about my last morning at the lake!

As you may recall, River spent a good deal of time alone in the Beagle as Opus and I hiked.  She was a good sport but on the mornings when she saw me loading her bed onto the floor of Beagle, she gave me the Big Sad Eyes knowing she was about to be shut in.  So that last morning, I promised her that it would be All River All the Time. 

After her one-mile walk, I tied her outside and she lay in the sun until I came out with my second breakfast (yes, second--don’t judge me) and coffee.  At which point she picked up her head, laid it back down, and released a long sigh.  We sat there for an hour or so enjoying the morning sun, appreciating the cool portion of the day, the bright blue sky, the total lack of people (after the long weekend, I was one of two campers remaining), and the deep, still quiet. 

Keeping one eye on me, River happily snoozed while I packed and hitched up Beagle.  She stood up as she saw me carrying her bed and, when she saw me put it in Wurzig, she jumped up and flopped her paws around with joy.  She practically jumped right into the car she was so happy.

What a delightful spot that turned out to be; I will definitely return, Alturas Lake set the bar really high.

But I will not return to my rental house in McCall; that was not pleasant.  Livable but barely, not even worth writing about.  I did enjoy my days there, hiking and swimming and viewing property but it remained extraordinarily hot.  So, when it was time to leave, I opened a weather app and searched for where it was going to be in the 70’s.

Seattle.

I stopped for one night at the KOA in Ellensburg which wasn’t bad:  Only about half full, my spot backed up to the Yakima River, and they had a great, grassy off-leash area for the Noses.  But still hotter than hell—it was nice to have electricity for the A/C.

Now, camping around Seattle is no fun:  There are only a few, very crowded RV Parks (which I avoid anyway) and all the campgrounds are far from the city (and the State Park campgrounds are booked months in advance, as I was repeatedly reminded.)  So I hopped on Hipcamp and in a few clicks, found myself being welcomed into a grassy field on a Christmas Tree Farm in Woodinville, with about an acre completely to myself.

The location was great, only a few minutes to downtown Kirkland and about twenty to Seattle.  But it was still hot—low 80’s—Beagle sat in the sun all day—and the days lasted until 9:30 PM.  It was a little rough with no A/C.

Oh how I loved being back in Seattle!  The city, the food, and ethnic food!  Indian, Thai, and my morning walk with Opus took us along the Sammamish River Trail to Starbucks.  But I could feel the claustrophobia coming on:  The closeness of the buildings and people and cars was pressing on me until, one day, I crossed the 520 bridge in the bright sunshine and Lake Washington stunned me with its wide-open sparkling brilliance.  Stunned me into such a daze, I made an offer on a lakefront condo.

But fear not, it did not go through.  I found myself getting more and more stressed with the thought of a mortgage, association dues, parking for Beagle, etc., etc., I could not go through with it.   This morning I was packing up Beagle to hit the road and realized I hadn’t felt so right in many days.  I am happier on the road.  

Now the stressors are a bit different; it is a Thursday and I pulled into a campground on the Olympic Peninsula that has half of its sites available First Come First Serve.  At 3:00 PM, there was only one spot left and it was only available for one night.  This is life on the road in the summer without reservations.  But I am home for a night and it is cool!  Maybe mid-60’s with bright sunshine off the ocean, the shadows of tall trees keeping me company as they dance on Beagle’s walls.

After days of iced drinks, I think I’ll make myself a cup of hot chamomile tea.

*

And that will forever be known as The Last Fun Day of Summer Camping.

*

Fast forward thirty-six hours and you find me walking out of a McDonalds (McDonalds!), having slept the night in a rest area (rest area!) off of I-5 and realizing that I was dressed too warmly.  Looking down I saw, in my haste to pack and leave quickly from said rest area, I had put on my Biarritz sweatshirt against the 6 AM morning chill.  I had to laugh; I was about as far away from a luxurious French seaside town as possible.

And here’s how I got there:

I woke that next morning knowing that I would have to fight and scramble my way into another campground if I wanted to stay on the Olympic Peninsula.  At 7:00 AM, people were already scoping out the campground I was in—I did not want to join the fray.

I fired up Hipcamp and had a text conversation with a possible host (he has five acres along a river available for camping and himself available for fishing lessons), unbelievably, it went like this:

              Hi, I just want to make sure I can get a travel trailer onto your property.

              Hello, yes, very easily.  But I am afraid I have left for a while—off fighting a fire in Idaho.

              Well thank you for being one of those people who run toward fire, and thanks for the quick response. 

              Have you somewhere else to stay?

              No, it’s crowded everywhere, I am considering just heading back to CA.

              Give me a minute, I left a key to the gate with the propane guy, let me see if I can get ahold of him.  No one else is using the land, you would have it all to yourself.

              Please don’t take the time, I appreciate it, but you are fighting a fire.  I’ll find something.

(About thirty minutes pass.)

              Hey, Kit, found the key!  It is now hidden, let me know if you want the land.  I'll be home in five days.

On this wonderful trip I had done a lot of thinking and realized that my bar for the coveted Leading Male Role in the romantic comedy that is my life, is set very high.  And, as I told TWGPT, I just can’t be bothered trying to figure out if anyone can reach it.  At this point I pretty much need a pole-vaulter.  Besides, I have this great life:  I have Beagle and the Noses and am free to come and go and go and go, whenever, wherever.  Like I said to my sister-in-law, "What is a guy going to do, follow behind the Beagle?"

But here was this kind, generous man, a fireman who was trying to save me from afar!  I couldn’t help but wonder if I should just rent his spot until he came home.  You know me, I don’t want to be saved forever but I would take five days.  Oh, who are we kidding, it would only work for about five hours, but I would take five hours.

And firemen carry ladders.

Alas, I passed and decided to head for home.  Wurzig agreed with the decision as he flashed “oil change in 1,000 miles” at me when I started him up—just the distance we had to travel.  

With no reservations, and only 25% fresh water in Beagle’s tank, I just figured I would head out and in the early afternoon start looking for a campground.  Ha!  I called every campground, RV park and hotel along my route and everyone was fully booked.  Eventually I aimed Beagle toward Oregon’s Champoeg State Park which had some first come sites, knowing full well they would be taken by the time I got there, but at least I could fill up Beagle’s fresh water as, I was sure, a night in a Walmart parking lot was in my very near future.

But Campendium saved the day again by showing me a “parking” area which was a rest stop along Interstate 5 that allows you to stay for 12 hours.  I pulled in.  The couple next door greeted me, I told them three times how tired I was before they stopped hinting about seeing inside Beagle, I fed and walked the dogs, shut the door, took a shower and did my best to sleep through the influx of truckers.

And that’s how I came to be walking out of McDonald’s, already dressed too warmly, at 7:00 AM.

Tonight I am at Sycamore Grove Campground outside of Red Bluff, California.  It’s hot—over 90—I have electricity so the A/C is on otherwise I would still be driving:  This place is sketchy, I feel like a major drug deal is about to go down. 

I will be home tomorrow, come hell or high water.

I miss Alturas Lake, Idaho.  I already cannot wait for my Fall trip.

-K

PS:  You know its time to go home when you run out of Oreos--that happened two days ago.