• I couldn’t remember the date today

    One of the things we decided to do early on when planning this adventure was to save the bulk of The Boy’s ashes so that we could release them at special places we find along the way. Cherish. Embrace. Let go. The past year and a half has been an exercise in living those words.

    Jeff found a lovely flat rock while he was walking the Poudre River, looking for good spots to fish. He wanted it to be the first place. The water rushing down from the mountains is soothing and Big Horn Sheep scramble up and down the cliffs across from it. We thought he would have enjoyed that. I imagined him saying, “I could climb that.”

    For the most part, we did a lot of nothing last weekend. And that’s what we needed. A lot of nothing. Rest, relaxation, sorting, bagging things up, and lazy time together. We went on a short, easy hike through Hewlett Gulch on Labor Day, but that was our big outing.

    I found these Broad-leafed Sweet Peas along the trail and wondered if they were native or leftovers from the homestead that used to occupy the land. The only obvious reminders of that family’s time that we saw are the foundations of two buildings. I wonder what they were: a home? a cottage? a barn? an outbuilding? I’ll never know.

    We started our days with a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs topped with wilted spinach — to “make it healthy” as Jeff said. Don’t tell our GP.

    Nebraska looks like a Windows start screen. There are buttes and ravines out there too, but for the most part it looks like this.

    I want to make this perfectly clear, Agate Fossil Beds National Monument doesn’t get enough love. I wish more people took the time to drive out and visit it. It’s an interesting place with friendly, hardworking, and informative staff. Too little staff, though, to be honest. When we arrived, one woman was nearly run off her feet trying to engage with visitors by explaining exhibits, answering questions, giving directions, turning on the intro film, and welcoming others as they arrived. After a while, another person arrived to work the desk and handle gift shop sales. A good reminder that budget and personnel cuts on paper are being felt for real in the field.

    The man who homesteaded the Agate Fossil Beds property had a wonderful respect for and friendship with the local Native American tribes, and the National Monument has given a section of the visitor center space to documenting and explaining their close relationships. He championed their causes to Washington, DC and at Fort Robinson, fighting to have their treaties upheld and their way of life respected. They honored him and his family in numerous ways in return, most clearly in the thousands of pieces of minutely decorated clothing and moccasins they made for him and his family members. They’re stunning.

    While walking the path up to the site’s twin buttes, we saw this adorable wild cucumber plant growing on a bridge crossing the wetlands. I looked it up later: It is poisonous and can cause burns. Look, don’t touch. Bummer.

    As it was getting late, we decided to spend the night at a scenic overlook/truck stop. We had a quick dinner of shrimp and cocktail sauce (cause we’re fancy like that) and raspberries.

    Our only neighbors were a semi-truck driver getting his required hours of rest and a random dumpster. Very different reasons for us all to be there, but we all enjoyed the same prairie sunset.

    If I have to get up at 1am, so do you

    We woke to high winds and lots of low clouds, but the forecast said no rain. The clouds remained much of the day, but we never did get rain.

    Something we’re having to learn is that there isn’t a lot of anything in Nebraska outside of the larger cities. We knew we had to get fuel sooner rather than later, so we stopped at the first gas station and were glad we did. We probably drove another 60 miles before coming across the next one. While I’m sure running out of gas on a narrow two-lane and extremely rural road would be an adventure, it’s one we hope to avoid.

  • Last weekend, the amazing Miss Carmen personalized the HMS Beangle and it turned out just as were hoping.

    She made us some cozies for the propane tanks, too. That will keep the tanks out of direct sunlight, which reduces the chance of hot, heat-expanded gas leaking out. They’re just so adorable.

    Let’s talk nuts and bolts. Even after selling or giving away nearly everything we owned, we still have way, way too much stuff. Ok, maybe that’s not news, but all that remained got packed (one might even say, stuffed) into either the truck bed, truck back seat, or the trailer.

    With a mere hour until Go Time, we popped the bike rack onto the trailer, slipped the key into the extra heavy duty lock holding the ridiculously heavy chain wrapped around Jeff’s hybrid and my mountain bike in the garage storage closet, I did live in the Netherlands, for a sec, and it wouldn’t budge. It was ‘No ma’am, I like it here’ stuck. We tried everything. We sprayed copious amounts of lock lubricant into it, wiggled the keys to loosen the tumblers, flipped it upside down to let gravity do its thing, and even banged it against the wall. Ok, by that point we were pretty deep down the desperation tunnel.

    We were scheduled to return the apartment’s keys back to the owners at 11am, so after a second round of — Maybe it just needs some more lubrication — to no avail, I called a local locksmith, explained the situation, and asked if he could cut the lock off the chain so we could get on the road. “No problem,” he said, estimating that he’d be there in 30 minutes to an hour. He arrived, tried to pop the lock for good measure, and then pulled out his industrial strength grinder. Amid a shower of sparks, the glorious clunk of a sliced-through lock clanged onto the concrete floor and our bikes were free. He asked if we wanted the old lock. We did not. It can rot in lock hell for all I care.

    Just a few hours behind our planned time, we arrived at our first campground with all of our remaining belongings. I did a full reset of all our clothing, putting warmer items into our big duffels and packing the clothes cubbies with the remainder. While doing so, I filled four kitchen trash bags with Didn’t Make This Cut clothes, shoes, sheets, old ratty blankets, etc. They’ll get dropped off at a thrift store as we leave the area.

    The no-signal-to-be-had at our Ansel Watrous riverside campsite’s along the Cache La Poudre River made it all worth the hassle.

  • Think of Colorado. Let your mind rest there. Craggy mountains, lodgepole and ponderosa pines reaching skyward, alpine lakes glistening green and blue under a cool summer sun. From Denver, it’s also 200 miles of prairie on Highway 76 before you reach the Nebraska line. In fact, some variety of prairie makes up the entire eastern third of the state.

    That’s ok, there’s beauty to be found in the prairie, too. At 70 mph, north-eastern Colorado looks like an impressionistic painting if you relax your eyes a bit. Bright, middle green-colored grasses the length of a child’s hand cover the ground from the highway’s edge to up and over the chunky rolling hills. Thin, yellow-tan, knee-high leftovers from the native short-grass prairie days wave above it all in the ever present wind. A two-tone effect that exists together, yet independently.

    Fassh fussh shht fffffff

    Heavy wind gusts push against the truck with every bend northward, the highway snaking and bending ever closer to Ogallala.

    Delicate, petite-headed sunflowers a meter tall hold fast, rooted in the disturbed ground that edges the highway and the dirt roads running parallel with and perpendicular to us. From road to hilltop, these bands of green and yellow fade into a light blue sky so soft it reminds me of a raggedy, bleach-stained kitchen towel I had back in the day.

    No, the prairie’s not bad if you let its beauty whisper a bit.

  • Murphy’s Law in the Mountains

    Our campsite last weekend had a lot less shade than most in the Blue Mountain Campground, but that’s okay, its eastern orientation was perfect for sucking up the solar rays. And we had an excellent reason to set up our 180° awning for the entire four days. It handled the light breezes and stronger wind gusts really well. Who needs shore power, right?

    Well, as it turns out, we did, because by Saturday afternoon our battery was at 3% and our refrigerator at an unhealthy 51°F. After sharing some mini freak outs, Jeff ran to the local general store to buy some ice to drop into the mini fridge, and I plugged our portable power bank in as “shore power” and got the battery back up to 51%, enough to get us through the weekend if we sipped electricity vs guzzled it.

    We also raided the camp host’s site under cover of darkness, literally, and (*looks left, looks right*) recharged our depleted power bank for an hour at their electrical hookup. As they were gone due to a family emergency, we decided they wouldn’t mind. With our illicit power, we were able to push the charge back to 79% on Sunday morning.

    That was the big event for the weekend. We talked with the manufacturer on Monday morning and they were able to diagnose the problem, a bad component between the solar panel and the battery that will need to be replaced. They’re working to schedule the repair locally. Good to get the bugs worked out before we hit the road for good.

    Proof I do exist

    After arriving mid-day last Friday, we found a nice little trail to stretch our legs and check out the area. What we found is that the trail went Up Up Up and then Down Down Down into another campground that sits on the South Fork of the South Platte River. At some point we wandered off the official trail and had to figure out a way back to it. We also hiked it in our running shoes; we should have had our boots on. One of those, ‘It’s only a mile,’ moments.

    The end of the trail

    A couple of months back, we watched an older TV series called How the Earth was Made, sipping it episode by episode. One of the common themes throughout (earthquakes! tectonic plates! volcanoes!) is how magma pushes through cracks to form intrusive bands of igneous rock like the one you see below. We enjoy seeing examples of it on our hikes. It reminds me of backbones.

    Can’t believe everything you see online. An app identified this rock as a Big Horn Sheep.

    Our evenings were pretty quiet the entire long weekend. A simple dinner, pretty sunset, crackling fire, and retire early. Repeat. I woke up each evening around midnight, hello tiny bladder, and stargazed a bit since it was a new moon weekend. I even saw a bit of a meteor shower. We’d intended to go to a stargazing event nearby, but never got there. Sometimes it just makes more sense to relax and get some extra sleep. Each morning Jeff would make us coffee/tea and then sit very very quietly, watching the birds move around us. Hairy woodpeckers, hummingbirds, western bluebirds, a variety of hawks. His Merlin app was getting a workout.

    Dry pine cones make excellent fire starters

    One of the things we’re learning is that I’m our fire whisperer. When Jeff has declared a fire played out, I can usually get it going again. As for getting it started, step aside, I’ve got work to do. I don’t know why, but where the logs should go and where and when it needs more oxygen just makes sense to me. My reflexes are crap, so I can’t catch anything you toss to me, but I can burn a pile of logs to ash.

    Always in awe of a dark night’s sky

    On Saturday, when we knowingly chose to hike in the heat of the day, we saw the cutest little toddler hiking boot atop the trail signage post. I hope someone came back for it!

    Tiny little Timberlands. 😍

    We wandered in and out of tree cover for a few miles, had a schnack, and then turned back to the truck.

    Along the way, we passed a few others but mostly had the trail to ourselves (again, heat o’ the day). The river nearby though? It was packed with people sitting on lawn chairs in the river itself or tubing down the length of it. Everyone seemed to be up in the mountains, cooling off from triple digits down on the Front Range.

    Everyday prettiness

    I may or may not have seen a mountain lion’s head pop up on top of the rocky ledge below. I can’t be sure, as it was out of the corner of my eye, but it’s definitely the type of place a cougar would like to be. We kept our eyes peeled the rest of the hike.

    As the old adage goes, if you’ve been in the mountains and haven’t seen a mountain lion, be assured that they’ve seen you.
    A break on a Florissant National Monument trail

    On Sunday we drove over to Florissant National Monument. The area isn’t well known in general, even here, but what it’s best known for are its large petrified Redwood stumps. There used to be hundreds of them, but tourists broke off pieces as souvenirs for decades (“It’s just one little piece”) and now there are only a handful left. Seriously, people, leave things where you find them. Yes, even the little bits.

    What Florissant National Monument should be better known for is that it’s home to some of the best, clearest, and most detailed examples of plant and insect fossils in the world. I mean it, they’re famous the world over by paleontologists, botanists, and entomologists. And they’re stunning.

    The area also has 14 miles of very pretty, easy to moderate trails through all kinds of environments, including a remarkably well preserved homestead. We took a hike that again went Up Up Up and which overlooks Pike’s Peak before passing through a few groves of Aspens on the way back to the visitor’s center.

    Banded for stability because they’ve been damaged over time
    This is not The Big One.
    Petrification, up close and personal.
    Oh, and our license plate holder’s adhesive failed after we washed the trailer, because of course it did. That and a door latch are also getting fixed.

    We’re four weeks today from our lease being up and our last days being worked. I’ve paid our last month’s rent, changed our addresses, scheduled the end of utilities, and sold off or given away nearly everything we own. Our furniture is getting picked up soon. The give-your-stuff-away-for-free sites/apps probably know me by name now. Our cycle trainers are still for sale. That’s my current pain in the neck thing yet to deal with.

    We spent yesterday packing the truck with 99% of what we’re taking with us, to make sure it all fits. There’s… a lot. Too much stuff, to be honest, but we’ll use up the consumables and jettison other things as we figure out what we do and don’t use.

    Cross your fingers and wish us luck. It’s probably going to be a bumpy month.

  • Not quite according to plan

    Back before we even arrived at the National Forest Service’s fee station on our last camping trip, we stopped for breakfast at one of our favorite restaurants, The Shaggy Sheep. After helping us sop up the coffee that I carelessly slopped across the table, our waitress mentioned that her friend says she’s never failed to see a moose at Jefferson Lake. Awesome, no? Then the NFS gate attendant said that ‘Mamma Moose’ had been seen that morning. That was pretty exciting because a Mamma suggests a Baby. Even better! Driving by, we noticed that each campground has a sign declaring, “Welcome to Bear Country” with tips on how to store food safely. And with the summer’s high temps, we knew that the elk herds were browsing up in the high country.

    Perfectly good alpine meadow; no elk seen.
    (Although we believe we heard a few elk bugling to each other.)

    All sorts of yummy cooking smells; no bears seen.
    (You just know the person who invented this specific style of fire ring made a fortune.)

    Nutrient rich beaver pond; no moose or beaver seen.
    (But we saw a lot of proof that beaver are very active in the area.)

    What we did see plenty of were towering storm clouds, dense black clouds, flat grey and green clouds. They built and roiled and flew across the landscape every afternoon. We had an hour or two of rain on Friday, none on Saturday despite the excellent collection of starter clouds below, and a mother of a storm on Sunday evening.

    It rolled in after our quick supper of leftovers, just as we got a proper fire going. We quickly put everything away and hopped in the trailer to relax while it blew past. Only it didn’t blow past. It raged on from about 7 PM until around midnight. Luckily our campground was up a slight hill from the road, because at one point a river seemed to be flowing down the back side of our campsite and through what had once looked like “a nice place for Jessica to set up a tent.” Poor woman can’t get a break with us even when she’s not camping. We watched our blazing fire suffocate.

    Lightning crashed and flashed. Wind screamed. Trees rocked. The sky turned green, then orange, then black. Then the hail started. We laughed because ‘What else can you do?’ and relaxed into the chaos. Without any cell service, we had no idea how long the storm would last. Around midnight, when the rain had ceased, I braved a trip to the toilets, using a flashlight to avoid the biggest puddles in the tire tracks. When Jeff went out a few hours later, the road was nearly dry. Life in a desert.

    Our campground, Lodgepole, is covered in its namesake trees, and it’s easy to see why people used (and use) them for log cabins, shelters, and lodges. In a landscape so relentlessly buffeted by storms and rocky ground so devoid of nutrients, it’s impressive how tall and straight and strong they grow. They’ve adapted to what life throws at them, like we all must.

    We loaded up the following day and stopped back at The Shaggy Sheep for breakfast. Seriously, it’s that good and they’re remarkably accommodating when it comes to dietary issues. While chatting with a fellow diner at the bar, we learned about the devastating fires that had broken out at the Grand Canyon and at the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. It sounds like both were due to lightning storms like the one we’d ridden out the night before. We haven’t been to either National Park yet. It breaks my heart to know that when we do finally visit, we’ll see only a shadow of their former glory. Fire is a natural part of the forest habitats here in the West. I know that. Accepting that doesn’t make such losses easier.

  • “Whatever, I do what I want.”

    “TIMAH!!!”

    Yes, South Park is a real place in Colorado. Technically, South Park is the larger high grass basin area (according to Wikipedia). The town the TV show is loosely based upon is actually named Fairplay, but you know how that goes. Although cute, Fairplay isn’t pristine and upscale like neighboring Breckenridge, and the locals like it that way. (They even have stickers saying so.)

    Early Saturday morning, we followed the West Jefferson trail, crossed the long distance Colorado Trail, and greeted a few of its thru hikers. Since it’s halfway along the 12 miles between the Kenosha and Georgia high passes, we could only hope they made it to their next stop and had their tents set up before the unstable looking afternoon skies opened upon them.

    There are spots along Jefferson Creek that had clearly moved and readjusted themselves over the decades, and details like this old disintegrating bridge emphasized the fact. With time and erosion, the curve had pulled further and further away from where the trail now stood. Since there wasn’t any indication of where that road or trail might have led, my mind wandered pleasantly for a while, imagining the possibilities of who might have used it, to where, and why.

    We bravely forded a few raging streams

    After a quick lunch, we drove into Fairplay in anticipation of the usual afternoon thunderstorm — which never did materialize. The local 4-H groups were about to have a parade through town and we were publicly shamed by bullhorn for parking on the ‘parade route.’

    Keep your top hat on, sir. We moved the truck.

    We hopped into a local distillery to buy the right to park in their lot as customers. Jeff’s bourbon was, and I quote, “About what you’d expect.” My lavender lemonade was excellent.

    I wanted to revisit the South Park City Museum, a cute little ‘town’ of rescued and salvaged buildings from around the region which helps show how life was back in the mining and settlement era. I always find such museums fascinating. I read every sign, visit every room, check out every roped-off closet.

    A burro harnessed to this beam, made innumerable rounds, grinding promising-looking rock into smaller and smaller chunks, in search of gold nuggets, pebbles, and dust.

    Jeff, having been through this museum with me already, was more amused by the army of ground squirrels darting in and out below every building and sidewalk plank. They race around as if they’re on urgent business and we humans simply hinder their progress.

    South Park City has a fabulous view

    We made a delicious dinner of hamburger mess (hobo dinner as Jeff calls it). We packed our aluminum foil packets with hamburger, onions, corn kernels, and a few other random vegetables, starches, and seasonings that we had on hand. The packets got tossed over the fire while beverages were consumed. After the very scientific method of check and see, we opened the packets up and dug in. It’s one of my favorite camping meals. Quick, easy, and a good way to use up leftover veggies, so it’s always a bit different.

    Final note: I don’t recommend listening to a YouTube compilation of South Park quotes in your favorite coffee shop without headphones, not even on low volume.

  • 33rd is Trout?

    For our 33rd wedding anniversary, we decided to head out for a four day weekend. Our goal destination was Jefferson Lake, a high altitude reservoir lake about an hour and a half from our apartment. For the first time ever, we left for a popular area with nothing more than hope. There was a single site listed as First Come First Serve for the whole weekend, amongst four campgrounds, so we drove with fingers crossed. If all else failed, we could try to find a boondocking spot on one of the Forest Service roads.

    Luckily we arrived early enough to snag that lone FCFS site, but we were about 3.5 hours too early for check-in and the gate warden was a stickler for time, so we drove straight up to the lake — reservation in hand.

    Jefferson Lake and fishing boat

    The water was wonderfully clear and, as we learned later while crossing several inlets at the farthest end of the reservoir, cold. So cold. Jeff was happy to see that fish were jumping everywhere. Kayaks and stand up paddle boards made infrequent bright pops of color across the reflective surface. The quiet and relative solitude was a welcome relief.

    Had to take shoes and socks off to cross this one

    While we waited for the clock to strike two, we hiked slowly around the lake’s rocky perimeter, watched the fish rise, tried not to twist an ankle, dodged small waterfalls gurgling down from the peaks, and then drove back down the mountain to check out the numerous beaver dams along Jefferson Creek.

    Shesh shesh shesh says the waterfall

    At a small side pullout along Jefferson Creek, we had a light snack and Jeff caught his first small river trout of the weekend. He was kind and released it quickly, so no proud photo I’m sad to say.

    We pushed our luck, rebels that we are, and arrived at the campground 20 minutes early. By check in time, we were fully set up. Our site had a pretty significant tilt to it, so we ended up with one leveling block on Jeff’s side and four (!) on mine.

    Lunch and an afternoon thunderstorm, normal for the summer at elevation. A nap for him and some reading for me (Trust by Hernan Diaz). A quiet dinner while watching a legion of chipmunks scurry around the campsite and the rest of the campground fill up. All in all, it was a lovely start to our long weekend.

    We learned that we need to do some research on how best to stake out and set up out 23Zero Peregrine 180º awning. It tended to catch and pool the rain we had, not ideal. We’re questioning how often we’ll end up using the awning’s walls. It’s a lot of work to set them up, cumbersome to repack, and they take up a good bit of space in the store box. Like a lot of things, there’s plenty to sort out and learn along the way.

    Jeff went to bed early and I followed not too long after him. He always falls asleep quickly on the first day of a trip. I think it must still be a lot of mental effort pulling the trailer.

    After enduring several weeks of extreme temps on the Front Range, the weekend’s highs in the mid-70s felt like nature’s gift. The sleeping temps at 10,000 ft felt downright cold at times. My favorite way to sleep as anyone that has stayed with us knows. I’m sure it contributed in large part to us not waking up until after 8 am each morning.

  • Mail, Cooking, and Quiet

    A few people have asked the following questions, so I’ll answer them while I’m thinking about it.

    First, how will we get mail. Anything that can’t be delivered online will go to our friends’ house and they will sort the junk from the essential, because they’re lovely and kind and generous. We get almost no physical mail, so hopefully they won’t have much to deal with. Anything that needs to get forwarded will get shipped in a big yellow envelope via general delivery to the post office nearest our location.

    Second, how do we cook and store food? We are fortunate to have a small refrigerator in the trailer’s galley. There’s no freezer compartment, but we haven’t found that to be too much of a loss. We can fit a decent amount of food in the fridge, but it’s not going to be condiment-central like our apartment’s fridge is. Smaller package sizes and using up what we buy through judicious meal planning is key. Canned goods and room temperature things go in cloth storage boxes for easy access and quick use. When we’re stationary, those sit on the back counter. Our plates, cups, cooking utensils, etc and a few basics like salt, pepper, and oil stay in the shelves’ plastic bins, behind the wood-grain sliders.

    The Galley

    We cook over a fire whenever we make one and over a two burner propane camp stove when we don’t. We hook the camp stove up to one of the two 10# propane tanks that sit at the front of the trailer, using a picnic table or our collapsible camp table, whichever is easiest.

    All of our water is stored in 6 (grey) and 7 (blue) gallon plastic jugs, since we chose not to get a water bladder installed under the trailer. While it might have been more convenient, it also would have set the trailer up for more maintenance and potential problems if (when) things broke. Having already spent several nights at below freezing temps, I’m glad we didn’t have to worry about our water lines bursting.

    Compact Cooking

    Since we were on the road for two week-long jaunts and six weekends in a row, and because we had several days of extreme temps, we decided to stay home this weekend. We worked on getting some things posted for sale and just relaxing.

    I also did some slightly more adventurous Hashimoto’s friendly cooking (no gluten, no dairy, no nightshades, no sugar), as that’s still a bit new to me. Tonight’s coconut sweet potato curry was a hit and easy to put together, too. I can definitely see myself making it on the road. I made Jeff a batch of chocolate chip cookies to use up the last of the flour and brown sugar. I think he’s enjoying having them alllll to himself.

    There’s a decent level of stress that goes with trying to work, run a household, sell everything, and figure out what we truly need and don’t need that makes being gone every weekend hard, even if it’s also a pleasure to be out in the trailer. In order to finally catch back up with some lovely friends, we’re also going to stay in town next weekend. I see us listing a lot more items for sale over the next two weeks. Fingers crossed that whatever we list gets picked up quickly and at full price!

    The temperature here finally broke about an hour ago. For the first time in days, it’s cooler outside than inside. What a relief!

  • Storage run to Des Moines
    Lake Ogalalla State Recreation Area Campground

    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.

    The apartment block

    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.

    Golden hour paddling

    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.

    Contented Fisherman at PRSP

    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.

    Baby bird – Baltimore Oriole

    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.

    Coolest rig in the park

    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.

  • Camping with friends from yore

    Bob, Pam, and their shiny Airstream met up with us on the edge of the Sangre de Cristo mountains last weekend. After arriving, we laughed about the miles of cow pastures we’d all nervously driven through, wondering if we’d ever find the tree-wrapped campground we’d only ever seen photos of online. Thankfully the pin-straight road made a couple of sharp turns at the end of the wide valley and climbed up a dirt road to our weekend home.

    We hadn’t seen Bob and Pam for more than 15 years and quickly fell to catching up. The years dissolved like cotton candy upon a tongue. The weather was perfect. The drinks cold. The hiking trails waiting.

    Alvarado Campground’s many campsites are laid out in a rough, smashed S-curve up the mountainside. It looks like a lot of work has been put into keeping things pleasant and well-maintained. Few people were camping this early in the season, but we all had a bit of a wide-eyed giggle noticing the *cough* upside-down ‘tropical fruit’ flag at one of the other trailers. Thanks but no thanks.

    Saturday morning dawned bright and cheerful, so after a hearty breakfast we hunted out the nearby Rainbow Trail. A steep climb up put us on the right path. We enjoyed views over the valley, strolls through the forest, and crossed a pretty waterfall. I found lots of use for the Seek app on my phone and identified several wildflowers in bloom.

    Bob and Jeff were constantly swinging their heads to identify local birds and birdsong. Bob’s Merlin app was getting a workout, verifying calls and filling out his life list. I truly don’t know how they see animals moving among the branches so easily and differentiate the different bird calls so quickly. It’s an amazing skill.

    Photo by Jeff

    Later, while making dinner, we noticed that the wind was coming up and the sky looked and felt like rain. Jeff suggested we eat inside the Airstream and that was a good decision as rain and then hail — again with the hail! — started coming down. We chatted comfortably, the rain came and went, and finally Jeff and I headed back to the Beangle for the night.

    Around midnight, I found that the clouds had finally cleared. The sky was majestic, dark and deep and full of stars. I found a few of the better known constellations right away but realized right away that I need to get better acquainted with the night sky again. I’m looking forward to a lot more opportunity to do that soon.