Although our quest has been to sell nearly everything we own, we’ve been setting aside the things that we know we can’t or don’t want to part with. The question then is, What to do with them? Luckily a few great friends have offered to store some bins at their homes. Our aforementioned friend and all around good sport, Jessica, offered us a corner for the things that can survive a humid Midwest basement.
“One bin or 12, whatever you need.”
We decided the best time to run everything over would be early June when Jeff already had an annual golf trip lined up with some Des Moines buddies. For the record, it’s hard to go through everything, ev.er.y.thing, you own and decide what’s essential — to you — to keep.
We ended up taking six bins full of sturdy art objects, my beloved pots and pans and flatware, some special glassware, mementos of our son, etc. We fit them all in the bed and backseat of the truck, which meant that we were camping with only what we could fit in the HMS Beangle. Our road bikes were attached to the back of the trailer. It was good practice for this fall.
Our first stop was at Lake Ogalalla SNA, just inside Nebraska. We could have gone further, but the campground looked like a good one, and we were able to convince the telephone reservations lady to let us stay only one night instead of the usually required two for weekend stays since they had a (great) campsite (right on the water) that had a single night available between reservations. We pulled into the Electric Plus area and were definitely the odd duck out tucked between massive RVs and fifth-wheel trailers. Some of them so big they could barely make the loop’s turn. Truly homes on the road. A few people watched us drive by, gaping, as if we had floated down from another planet.
Water is the big draw to the area, with many campers bringing along large boats for use on the big reservoir behind the dam. Our little lake at the foot of the reservoir was perfect for smaller fishing boats, kayaks, and stand up paddle boards. Puddles of kids splashed around on the beach next to us, while trains of whitewater kayaks circled the perimeter as people practiced turning, rolling, and steering.
As the sun dropped, we got a fire going and made dinner over the coals. There’s just something about the crackle and pop of wood turning black, red, white that unknots any tension.
We were surprised to see that the lake’s water level had dropped a good foot or more by the time we woke up. They must have held back some water overnight.
The weather wasn’t looking too friendly after we left, so we pushed all the way into Iowa and landed at Prairie Rose State Park. The campground was nearly empty, which surprised us. The few campers there were quite friendly though, stopping by to chat and say hello, and the park was meticulously maintained. I can understand why several campers said they come back year after year. It’s a bit of a drive off the highway to get to PRSP, so maybe that explains why it wasn’t busier. I finished my first book that evening.
Almost immediately upon parking at Acorn Valley Campground outside of Des Moines, Jeff found a baby Baltimore Oriole on the asphalt by the bathhouse. It looked like it had either fallen out of its nest or over estimated its flying abilities, as it did have flight feathers. Despite reaching a few feet up into some bushes, it wasn’t able to get up into the tree canopy. The papa bird flew rations down throughout the evening, but we doubted it would be enough help. The wee bird’s calls were heart-rending, but there wasn’t anything useful we could do. Jeff heard a pair of owls hooting to each other during the night. We fear the circle of life played itself out as we never saw the baby oriole again.
While Jeff was off golfing in Illinois, I continued to hear the owls’ haunting calls night after night. My timing was always off though; I never did catch their calls on my Merlin app. A colony of bullfrogs serenaded the campground night after night from a small pond, a nice distraction on some very sultry nights.
Although I spent the bulk of my days relaxing and reading (book two down), I also saw a few friends, attended a two year old’s birthday breakfast, cooled off at the beach, saw a friends’ new house, hung out with my favorite toddler (who thinks I’m ‘really strong’), talked editing work with another friend, ate at one of my favorite restaurants, and spent some time worrying about the nation’s descent into authoritarianism.
The last few months have not been a fun time for someone whose history cognate focused on the rise of Fascism and the history and literature of the Holocaust, believe me. The parallels to what we’re seeing here and what we saw as Putin took over Russia with the help of (and for the benefit of) the Russian oligarchy are horrifying. As I texted just a couple days ago, we Americans like to think we’re special and that it can’t happen here. We aren’t, it can, and it is. My little travel blog isn’t the place to get into it (mostly because I don’t want it to be), but it’s been on my mind a lot lately.
Some people really go all out with their campsite decorations, pithy signs and awning lights and tomato plants oh my, but I think this RV really hit a home run in that department. You just know they make their Bloody Mary mix from scratch and can offer up a bespoke charcuterie platter for drop-in guests.
We’re overnighting at Lake Johnson SRA in Nebraska tonight. It’s… a place to stop overnight. Friendly staff, nice lake, decent brewery pub across the street. It’s just not our speed. Enough said.
