Camping! Part 1

FINALLY!

You’d think it would be no big deal to go camping. My kids are grown and I eliminated my livestock. What’s holding me back? Probably me. That gets into all sorts of metaphysics doesn’t it?

I hadn’t been camping for 4 months. That’s too long.

Granted, it’s  winter. Sane people don’t camp in winter. But I specifically equipped myself for winter camping and sane has never been my favorite adjective. I guess the war between “sit on the couch and turn to mulch by the warm fire” and “get out there and live” had been shaping up on the lazy side.

I can’t blame the weather. Aside from one spell in the -20s (during which I tried hiking while ill) it has been amazingly, happily, mild. One Thursday afternoon it was ridiculously, stupidly, spastically, unthinkably warm. Warm weather in February is not to be ignored. Like a hottie that wants to dance, when you get the option you go!

So I burned my own bridge. I called my boss. Lets me state this loud and clear, my boss is a nice guy. I don’t want him lumped in with some anti-boss complaining in the comments. He’s an actual human, he’s a good person to work with, he’s reasonable. I’m damn lucky he’s between me and the brass who happily pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining. In response, I do a good job (which comes naturally) and try as hard as I can to avoid rocking the boat (which does NOT come naturally). Nor does my boss know I have a blog. Since he didn’t sign up to be a blog persona I’ll mention my discussion with brief paraphrased generalities. I just want to highlight that there are still good people out there (even in the wasteland that is the modern workplace).

“Hey boss.”

“What is it Curmudgeon? Are you going to bitch about filling out the new 27b/6? Last time you complained you tied it in with the fall of the Western Roman Empire and you have to stop doing that. You confuse people! People don’t know you’re not referring to Italy, they don’t know an empire named Rome existed, they don’t know the sky is blue. Now everyone is wondering if we’ve got a customer in Italy. You’ve got to stop scaring the squares!”

“Sorry about that.”

“Have you considered some work life balance… maybe move to an island? Talk to coconuts?”

“Funny you should mention that. I’d like to take Friday off, I’ve got oodles of vacation saved up.”

“Sure.” A pause. “Are you OK?”

“I’m OK. It’s just too sunny out. I can’t work.”

“I get that. Take Monday off too if you need. Sand off the edges. We all know it’s going to be a long year.”

“Thanks. Will do.”

See what I mean? Good guy! I think he’s genuinely worried about me. For that matter I’m genuinely worried about him. The modern world of work is trying to crush everyone and neither of us deserve that. Also, I recognize it’s probably not the best news when your boss is delighted you’ll be gone but it is what it is. Last note, I really do a good job (not that doing a good job matters but I still do it).

Once I’d lined up vacation time, I made reservations at a (gasp!) State Park. I’m always a little embarrassed to be in a “park” but it’s better than sitting on the couch.

It was in the 40’s. It was so warm my driveway started thawing! Dirt roads around here are supposed to stay frozen rock solid until April or May. Then they turn to a quagmire for about 4 weeks. We call this “break up”. After “break up” the soil is thawed and the snow runoff has percolated to where it needs to go and everything is once again “driveable”. The thing to know is break up driving sucks! Sketchy steering on dirt that feels like a marshmallow is just one aspect of the hassles. It’s unusual to deal with this condition in February.

I didn’t pack until lunchtime on my vacation day. I just couldn’t get my ass in gear. As I packed I got a little shivery. It was mid-afternoon when I gingerly spun the truck across my marshmallow driveway to the dirt road out front. The county road had a hard crackly surface on top of a melted nougat interior; call it creme brulee.

I wondered why I was shivering. It turns out I was a dumbass. I’d been wearing a sweatshirt, which was ideal for previous day’s temperatures, but the truck’s dash told me it was 23 that day; too cold for a sweatshirt. (23 Fahrenheit is eleventy zillion degrees below zero in Metric.) Lucky for me I’d grabbed a warm jacket. I’d tossed it in the passenger seat (almost as an afterthought) and it turned out to be a key piece of camping gear.

I hate paying for campgrounds but if there’s a time to “wimp out” February is it. The last time I tried hiking to a free dispersed site (when it was -20f) had gone wrong. Also the roads were thawing. If that gets out of hand the mud will eat even a truck with excellent tires (which I don’t have). I’m deliberately procrastinating on the necessary purchase of better tires since I drive so little in the Bidenverse. Part of why I’d made reservations (!) at a State Park is that I’d stay on pavement most of the trip.

You can’t bring firewood into the State Park (for decent reasons). My earlier approach of bringing a garbage can full of processed kiln dried pallet wood wasn’t happening because my pallet supply dried up. I stopped at the only store. (Just outside of the park there’s one store… either the store has what you need or you go without.)

I bought a six pack of beer and two bundles of firewood. I paid a usurious $7 each for the bundles! There were 3 packs of wood at the store and I bought 2. It seemed too mean to buy the last one! I grumbled over the expense. I have several truck loads of firewood at my house. I paid $14 for a couple armloads of what I own in tons!

The wood was shitty too. I did my best Paulie Walnuts act:

“Yo! Dis wood bundle. It looks a little light. You’re holding out on me.”

This had absolutely no impact on the store guy. “No shit. My boss is lazy. Tell him not me.”

There was no boss to bitch at so I drove to the State Park. The front gate had a Checkpoint Charlie type booth. Theoretically they check if I’d paid my annual “vehicle pass” fee. I hadn’t. It had expired. Being a contrarian, the booths are never manned any season I’m out and about. Since nobody was at the booth, I drove through. I’ll probably buy a pass someday. On the one hand it goes to a service I value and I’m willing to pitch in for road service. On the other hand it goes into a bureaucracy that probably pisses it away on vegan poetry.

I’ve scouted this campground before. It was summer and I remembered a crowded campsite ghetto at the end of a ridiculously long access road that has yet another Checkpoint Charlie booth. In the summer it would take a couple miles excess driving just to sit cheek by jowl with 150 other dweebs. Winter is different. I passed a sign that said “winter camping” where I didn’t expect it. I made a quick turn and was on-site in no time. It was weirdly convenient.

Out of 150 odd sites, four were occupied. I found mine and now the count was five.

It’s a reflection on human nature (and the corresponding small minds of management) that out of well over 150 spots only about a dozen were even available and for no good reason whatsoever they were all clustered together. It’s as if the goal is to maintain highest possible people density. Given how bureaucracies work, that’s probably the exact goal. For that matter, most people are herd animals and maybe they like it that way too.

In a campsite like this, five occupied sites could be a quarter mile apart! That’s how I’d have done it.

My neighbors were; one camping trailer, an exotic looking camper van, and two ice shack trailers. Ice shack trailers are a subset of camper trailers. They’re built to be towed onto lake ice and spend anything from a weekend to an entire winter there. It’s impressive they can handle one of the world’s least hospitable environments. In my eyes, they’re the coolest type of RV out there. (Though they are rare in a lot of locales.) One weird feature is that the axles squat down on the ice so you can drill a hole through them to catch fish. On a State Park pad, they settle down and sit as rock solid as a little cabin. Originally conceived as crude boxes on wheels, they’re now full comfort travel trailer beasts that serve as super tough alternatives to the usual “summer camper” trailer. I want to own one soooooo bad! Probably the reason they were in the campground instead of a lake was the unusual warmth. The ice is just too sketchy for a heavy truck and trailer right now.

Only one guy was dumb enough to be out there in a tent. And that guy was grumping about being within 50 yards of other camping vehicles while also getting all giddy about how much he wants one. What else would you expect from a goofy blogger?

I needn’t worry. I had near perfect solitude. The excellent camping vehicles all kept their humans hermetically sealed within. I was the only one sitting at picnic tables and maintaining a campfire. As always, I’m an outlier.

More in the next installment…