Greetings from Cascade Lake State Park, the Crown Point Campground location where I have happily exchanged pants for shorts, wool-lined slippers for flip-flops and hot herbal tea for beer. I should be drinking the beer right now to recover from Opus and I being attacked by two pit bulls but then this tale would wander more than usual.
As this is likely my last post for this trip, I feel like I
need to sum some things up. So here we
go: I spent a good four weeks wondering
if I would even be warm again, three weeks wondering if I would ever be dry
again and one week warmly embracing my new home. This is Day 63 out of 71, my Miles Per Night
is at 52 (close, as you may recall, to my goal of 50) and I have discovered
that there is something as too much Kit Alone in the Woods.
I am ending the camping on a high note, perched in Site #10
(pictured above), gazing down at the clear, blue lake and up at the puffy white
clouds floating across the vast blue sky.
There is still snow on the peaks across the lake—quite a difference from
last year at this time when campers were flocking to RV parks in order to run
their A/C during a record heat wave. Beagle
is surrounded by tall pines and placed so that I have good privacy from other campers. Yes, the Kitness is alive
and well despite me using an abundance of it lately (attacks from pit bulls notwithstanding—although
we did survive.)
Some of you know that I have always known (and said) that I
would not stay in Morro Bay for long. As
I was making my way up to Canada a few weeks ago, I realized that the housing
boom was likely to end soon and, if I wanted to get top dollar for my house,
now was the time to sell. So I placed a
call and got it listed.
It sold within a week for an exorbitant amount of money. I can still hardly believe it, I keep thinking
something is going to go wrong, but here we are closing escrow in two weeks
like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Last Spring’s trip to Idaho sparked my interest; discovering
the Sawtooth Wilderness, the friendly camping-crazy people and, of course, the
fact that there is a Porsche dealer in Boise, made it very inviting. And this year’s five-night VRBO stay out in
the Harris Ranch neighborhood sealed the deal.
If I could sell my house in California, I would try Boise next. And so it goes.
When it was obvious that the house deal was really going to happen,
I cut Beagle’s Canadian Tour short and decided to head back to Boise for some serious
house-hunting. Not quite ready to give
up camping, I decided to take a week to drive the eight-hundred and fifty or so miles giving me
ample time to discover new favorite places and embrace the idea of living so
close to them.
First stop was Riley Creek Recreation Area outside of
Sandpoint. A new campground for me but a
familiar town which felt great after a few weeks of everything being new. I took advantage of my previous visit and did
a favorite hike.
Next stop was a return visit to Farragut State Park which, due to my tire issues of last month, I barely had time to enjoy, having to reduce my original four night stay down to one. So my treat to myself was three nights there—and in the same pitch! Because it was perfect and I couldn’t imagine anything better. Still can’t.
It had been about 250 miles to that point, I was tired and
the dogs were hot.
We pulled into the area, almost passed out due to the smell
coming from the vault toilets and drove past a wall of Class A’s and
Fifth-Wheels lined up closer than in any RV park I have ever seen. And this was a Thursday afternoon. It was dusty and hot and all you could hear
were the generators running outside almost every rig—I assume they were running their A/C’s. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. All I knew was that if I was going to have to
be crammed next to other campers in a row, I was going to do it in an actual RV
park so at least I didn’t have to hear their generators (for you non-camping people,
at RV parks people will plug into electricity to run their A/C.)
Plan B time and I actually had one! I had made note of a highly rated RV park another
ten miles down the highway in Pollack.
Google, take me to Canyon Pines RV Resort.
It was still hot when I arrived and suffocatingly muggy
inside the office where the husband-and-wife owners were already busy helping
people.
“Will I
be able to park extra cars nearby?”, asked The Customer. (By the sound of his condescending voice, I should
refer to him as The King but it will suffice to Capitalize.)
“Yes, you
have reserved all of these sites”, returned the owner, drawing his finger in a
large oval over the campground map, “so if not everyone shows, you can park
anywhere along there.”
My hopes of getting a last-minute spot were, like the
droplets of sweat on my temples, racing downward.
The wife became available.
“May I
help you?”
“Hi, I
was hoping to grab a spot just for the night.”
“We have
a huge party here that has reserved a lot of the park.”
“Yes, I
see. I don’t need much, I just need a
wide spot in the road, no need to hook up or anything.”
The wife looked over at the husband who was still talking to The Customer. The Customer is now
explaining the ins and outs of cooking a “trash can turkey”, trying to get the
owner to agree to let him do it. They
settle on it being ok if the “oven” can fit in the firepit.
The wife and husband exchanged a look. The wife looked at The Customer and said,
“Since
not everyone is showing up in your party, would you consider releasing a site
on the end for an overnight road warrior?”
It took me a minute to realize she was referring to me, then
I turned to The Customer and gave him my best smile,
“It would be greatly appreciated.”
He actually hesitated before saying,
“I
suppose we can do that.”
So the wife booked me into Site 30, a pull-through, right on the
river, Beagle’s doors open to the river, no one next to me, gorgeous, grassy, wonderful
site. I pulled in, the husband came out
to make sure I was ok and I said, “I feel like it is my birthday or something!” I put in a laundry, opened a beer and munched
potato chips as I watched the water, and one dare-devil of a kayaker, race by.
Now that is Kitness.
Today was a short drive day so I decided to stop at Ponderosa
State Park in the lovely town of McCall.
Another discovery from last year, I remembered that the Visitor’s Center
had RV parking and access to trails around the lake. It feels great to be familiar with an area,
particularly when it allows you to enjoy it like this—often on towing days I
don’t stop along the route being unsure of where I would fit.
I parked, Opus and I took a long walk along the lake, then we
returned for River, made a picnic and took it to the grassy area where we all
lolled around enjoying the warm, muggy day.
A quick thirty-minute drive brought us to this lovely spot where
we’ll enjoy two nights before heading to a VRBO house in Boise. As Beagle is always my first thought, I have
found her an indoor, heated (for winter) storage spot. I decided not to bring her all the way back
to Morro Bay just to turn around and drive her back up. It will be the furthest apart we have ever
been. I am not 100% sure I’ll be able to
leave her behind.
I don’t want to relate the pit bull story; I don’t want to
relive it. Suffice it to say that I will
report the incident to the Idaho State Parks—the owners were the camp hosts. Five times Opus has been attacked by pit bulls
and twice I have landed kicks into their beefy sides. The first time I ended up with blood dripping
down my calf, this time all I have is a bruise.
And bewilderment that people continue to say these dogs are not
aggressive.
-K
