It's true. Even if I don't have any pictures. (I know. It's just the way we are, we meant to take pictures...) We left Hallie with her grandma, and took off in her truck. We got our tent set up, and ate dinner, washed the dishes, then sat back and realized that it was only like seven o'clock in the evening and we had not packed any cards, or games to play, or anything. Enter thumb twiddling.
So we took a walk to investigate the shower house and toilets (flush toilets, that is) and on our way we saw a field full of deer (literally, quite full) and one baby deer who stared at us the whole time we walked past. Hey, kid.
We saw a fabulous sunset, pink and purple and swirly with white clouds. I told Devin that it was a good thing they had a parking lot next to the shower area for people to drive to, because if I actually walked that far to get a shower in the morning, I would be sweaty and gross again by the time I got back from showering, rendering it a pointless walk that I would not make again. Luckily, I had showered right before we left to go camping and we got home this morning before lunch, so we did not need to use the showers anyway, but let tell you. Well, I just did.
It would have been nice to have flush toilets that were closer, but the hole in the ground really didn't smell too terribly bad, and I was just grateful not to have to bend over a log. It has been done before.
So we got back to our campsite from our magical and magically time wasting walk to the showers/flush toilets and sat back down at our little table. Well, was it late enough yet to have smores? It was getting dark but you could still make things out in the distance, when all of a sudden a little car comes tearing around the bend, and whips into the campground opposite us. We commented, "Wow, it's a little late to be setting up camp now" and I said, "Do you think he'll leave his headlights on to get the job done?" He did, and as we watched it also became apparent that he was alone. So I wondered about that, and Devin said, "There are lots of people who do things alone." To which, I suppose, I have to agree, but I couldn't help feeling that it was a little lonely to set up a tent in the dark... alone. So I made Devin walk over with me and ask if we could help.
I call him now, in my head, as the "drive-by-camper". He was a very friendly man from Tennessee. He spends his summers driving from state to state, from state park to state park, and just lives out of his tiny little tent, and the back of his little sedan. Every now and then he said he pops back home to pay bills and tidy up, refresh his supplies, before he heads out again to the next destination. I would guess he was in his sixties. (Heather, I thought of you here) I sit here and I can't help but wonder, why? Why does he spend his life this way? He doesn't stay long enough in any place to look around, or get to know it, he just comes in after dark, puts up his tent, sleeps, takes his tent back down, and then drives away in the morning while it's still dark! I'll never know, but he did say he was very grateful to have some people to talk to, and he made it sound like he hadn't talked to anyone in a long time... (Incidentally, we had to give his car a jump the next morning before he could leave... too many nights putting up a tent by headlight power?)
Well, I'll tell you about the "hike" in another post.