Greetings from Morro Bay State Park which, like my previous
spot at Sun Outdoors Santa Barbara (which is actually in Goleta), used to be
one of my favorite camping stops.
Let’s go back a couple of nights: I had a restless sleep, waking often thinking
that something was crawling on me.
Finally, at 5 AM, I decided to just get up. I turned on the light to make some coffee and
there were ants everywhere. And I mean
EVERYWHERE: Crawling up the walls, in my
sink, inside my tea kettle, it was like a horror movie.
I immediately began wetting paper towels and wreaking havoc
on their lines. Then I realized Lysol
wipes would be better so began pulling them out and swiping as fast as I
could. Soon I was overtaking them and,
after about an hour, I was down to seeing only a couple here and there.
That’s when I aired out my bed and discovered ten dead ants
in my bed. Turns out I was right about
things crawling on me. I was so disgusted
I almost gagged.
Already disappointed with this stop which has gone from a
quiet, elegant (rare in an RV park) stop to a zoo in the last year, I figured
out where I could buy some ant bait and packed up Beagle as fast as I could. That’s when I saw the trail: From under a bush up my stabilizer and
into Beagle; an ant superhighway. I
hosed it down and drove out of there as fast as I could.
Thirty minutes later I was placing the ant traps at strategic
locations in Beagle; I had still only seen a couple here and there and figured
the ant traps would gather them all in while I drove north.
At this point I decided I needed something fast to eat so I
walked into a McDonalds where everyone was speaking Spanish, from the plentiful
customers to the people taking the orders.
This is my love/hate relationship with California. For one, you can never get away from the
sound of another human voice (although, I have to admit, blissfully, right now sitting
in Beagle in the cool early morning I cannot hear another voice, ahh) and it is
quickly turning into a Spanish speaking mini-country. I remember living in Laguna Beach when a
landscaper knocked on my door and, when I answered, began speaking in Spanish:
I replied, “I do not speak Spanish.”
With pity in his voice he said, “You do not speak Spanish but
you live in California?”
I replied, “Parlez-vois
Francais?”
That closed the conversation and my door.
But I digress…Having left Goleta so early, I was hours early
for my check-in at Morro Bay State Park.
This is where having lived somewhere before comes in handy: I knew just where to park Beagle so I could walk
around the bay, enjoy the many otters, let Opus sniff out the squirrels and
retire to Tognazini’s on the Dock for two delicious grilled shrimp tacos.
A delightful respite.
Time came to check in.
I drove through the campground to fill my fresh water tank and looked
with growing dismay at the campsites: It
looked, and I’m not kidding, like a refugee camp. Many pitches had multiple cars in them and
every speck of dirt (and now it is all dirt owing to the drying out of
California) was taken up with tents. Laundry
was strung between tent poles, Costco sized packages of paper towels were on
every picnic table, I thought, “If my pitch is in the middle of this, I am
leaving and driving directly to the nearest Four Seasons.”
And you know I would.
Fortunately, my good planning had paid off and I am in a pitch
far at the end; I even have a couple of bushes around.
OK, it’s hot in California right now, unusually hot. And I was hot unhitching Beagle, and
disgusted with the state of the campground and all around just in a bad mood. Then I opened Beagle’s door.
The bait traps were inundated with ants! They were frantically racing around and coming
out of every possible seam in Beagle’s floor and ceiling.
Back into the car, back to the hardware store, this time
returning with a giant spray can of Terro Ant Killer.
But I couldn’t just start spraying everything: I didn’t want it on my clothes or dishes so
first I emptied out Beagle: Onto the dusty
picnic table went all my bedding, my duffel of clothes, my towels and few food
items.
Then I sprayed every inch of Beagle. Inside the cupboards, under the bed, and
along the ceiling. Leashing up Opus, we
went for a nice long walk as they all came out to die.
It took a few hours for Beagle to air out, then I washed
everything down, lightly respraying along the seams because it says it lasts up
to six weeks and washed and loaded everything back in. All I can say is Ugh.
Thankfully that evening I got to spend a little time with my
brother and family which did, in fact, make it all worthwhile.
I still have about two weeks left in California; I am ending
it at one of my all-time favorite campgrounds of anywhere I have camped, Crystal Cove State Park, in Laguna Beach; I hope it remains an all-time favorite.
-K
PS: The lead-in picture
was taken in Goleta; yes, the waves are coming from both directions! Opus and I discovered this delightful spot at
the end of our wonderful beach tour day of Santa Barbara. We walked onto the sandbar and enjoyed
the water washing over our feet. Well,
one of us did.
PPS: I haven’t seen
an ant in two days!
