Shortly before reaching the San Luis Recreational Area, the wind began to pick up. By the time I pulled up to the ranger’s guard post at the entrance to check in, it was a full blown gale. “Howdy”, the woman ranger greeted me. “Hi”, I replied, “I’m checking in, I have a reservation for Hunter for one night”. She told me I was in Site 18 and if I didn’t like that one there were plenty of others. “Just come back and let us know if you change sites”. “Is it always this windy?” I asked. “Yeah, it’s a little windy today”, she replied, then shut the guard shack window before I could say anything else. “Really Captain Obvious?”, I said out loud as I drove away.
Upon pulling into the campground I discovered that yes, there were “plenty of other” campsites. Besides the campground host, I was the only other one camping. I had my pick of whatever site I wanted. I drove the loop twice before finally settling on Site 17, right next to the bathroom with 2 huge trees to shelter me from the wind. I manuevered Hammy and the Tahoe in sideways, parallel parking style, quite easily to my stunned amazement, to maximize the wind break. I also had no plans to unhook Hammy since I was only going to be here for the night and I didn’t want the Tahoe sticking out into the drive through the campground.
I rolled out my mat, anchored it down with the cooler and my wheel chocks, got out the dog food, bowls, and dog beds, hooked up the water and electric, and that was about all the unpacking I was going to do. This was a mere stagecoach stop on the way to finally hitting the coast tomorrow. I could have made it all the way in one day, but when planning my trip at the beginning of the year I always made sure I had enough time to stop and see and do things on the way to my next destination. I’ve had too many “vacations” in the past where the men are far too hell bent on “getting there” and I am trapped in the car for 10 hrs. with barely a bathroom break. The leisurely drive suits me.
After getting settled in, I decided to take the dogs for their evening walk early. If it was going to be this windy all night, I wanted to get it over with and just stay in Hammy for the duration. In walking around, I discovered people fishing down out of the wind along the banks of the resevoir, looking strangely like chimps hunched over with hats on and fishing poles in their hands. The dogs and I were briefly surveyed, but other than that no one pretty much acknowledged anyone else. Which I could go off at this point into a lengthy rant about THAT state of our society, but luckily for you, I won’t. So I took one look around, let the dogs “do” their stuff, and we were canned ham for the night.
I fed the dogs and myself and marveled at the ingenuity of my campsite. I had put myself almost completely out the wind. Damn fine job Hunter. I was hugely proud of myself and had several celebratory drinks to prove it. I had cell signal, so I checked the “wind report” (not the weather report, the WIND report) at the website on the brochure the ranger had given me. That also answered my question of “is it always this windy here?” Yes. Apparently it always is if you have a webpage devoted to nothing but the wind. It said that the wind was supposed to diminish sometime after midnight. Good, I thought, at least I’ll get some sleep. I am a very light sleeper - I need complete quiet and complete darkness in order for me to slumber. Any light or noise and I am doomed. And I was to be doomed.
Around sunset I took some photos of Hammy and the water, but it wasn’t very scenic so I gave up. I just wanted to put in my one night here and get the hell back on the road as soon as possible in the morning. I read for awhile, finishing up the book on Maya Angelou that I had purchased at Mugwumps in Utah. I looked at the clock; 9:45. Hmmmm, still a bit early for me but there was nothing else to do but go to bed. I put on my jacket and shoes to make one more trip to the loo for the night, opened up the door to Hammy, and there it was - a huge bonfire.
In a campsite about 100 feet from me some of the people that had been fishing had apparently decided that they were going to camp with no tent or camper, just sit around this fire and then sleep in their car. “Fecking idiots!” I said aloud, to no one. “How can there possibly be people in this world that are THIS stupid to make a fucking FIRE in this wind?” Then, to add fuel to my OWN fire, I saw them ripping live branches off of the trees to supply the firewood. Now I was livid - tree murderers as well!
I vowed that I was not going to fry inside Hammy during the night in my sleep when the whole campground went up in flames. I instantly set out for the campground hosts’ RV a short distance away. Their RV was around a bend and they probably couldn’t see the fire from there, I surmised. “Aha! Yet another reason the ‘campers’ most likely built the illegal fire in that location, I said to myself, getting all CSI on myself; so that they wouldn’t be SEEN.”
Arriving at the hosts’ RV in the darkness I could vaguely make out that the door was open. Good, they’re still up, I said to myself. “Hello!”, I shouted, “Anybody here?” A dog began barking from inside. “What do you want?”, a voice from inside replied angrily, “I’m in bed already”. When I explained that some chimps reminiscent of 2001: A Space Odyssy down the way had made a huge fire in this wind and that I was gravely concerned for my safety, he replied, even more annoyed than before, “People do it all the time, in wind even worse than this, it’s no big deal, it’s never been a problem, good night!”
Well alrighty then Mr. Grumpalump, thanks for the update and the dismissal. I apologized for bothering him, told him I was from Colorado and that building a fire in wind like this would get you arrested, turned on my heel, and left. I spent the rest of the night being tossed lightly like a salad inside my silver Hammy salad bowl, gently rocked to sleep with the occasional ‘oh no, you’re not sleeping tonight’ 65 mph gust. Because, directly contrary to the wind report website, the wind DID NOT “diminish” during the night. Ever faithful and reliable Hammy, however, did his job well; butt to the wind, he refused to budge.
It actually had gotten a bit chilly during the night and when morning came I did not want to get up (really - moi?) Finally pulling myself up around 8, I hustled to get dressed and get the dogs out. I lit the stove and put the kettle on for a quick breakfast of instant oatmeal and coffee in my to go mug. I opened the door and just let the dogs go out in front of me, intending to put their leashes on outside. Why bother, I thought, no one’s here anyway. I stepped out and looked instantly to my left where the chimps had been, expecting to see denuded trees and charred earth. Nothing. They had left either sometime during the night or earlier this morning. I then picked up the the leashes and looked to my right where Jack and Bella had gone. Son of a bitch, wouldn’t you know it, but at that very moment here came the campground host with his dog. Just what I wanted first thing in the morning, I thought, to be hasseled by the asshole campground host about my dogs not being leashed.
Being from Colorado with our many open spaces and having Jack so well trained that he responds keenly to voice command, I frequently let him roam off leash and I have become adept at getting away with it. I only do it when no one else is in sight, and whenever I see him poop I always clean it up. I am a responsible dog person, but I hate people who harp about leash laws. If you’re out walking and no one else is around, what the fuck should it matter if your dog is not on a leash? By the same token, if your dog is unsocialized and aggressive, you are a stupid idiot if you ever let it OFF its leash. I am always amazed when people see me coming and, if Jack is off leash, will shout, “Is your dog friendly?” “No, fecking idiot, he’s a stone cold killer, that’s why he’s loose”. Really? I always say no anyway just to see the look on their faces.
So anyway, I grab Jack and Bella in time before the host reaches me, hook them up, and turn to greet him. He gets closer, sees me, and his eyes widen, cartoon style. “Are you the lady who came to my camper last night about the fire?” he asks in an awestruck tone. “Yeah”, I reply, squinting Clint Eastwood style into the rising sun. “Are you the grumpy old man that I woke up?” We both suddenly break into laughter and I know he is OK. In fact, he is downright smitten with me in a matter of seconds and even says as much (and who can blame him, after all ;))“Wow, if I had been able to see what you looked like in the dark last night, I wouldn’t have been so gruff with you!” He takes a step closer and I take a step farther away. All right there now Sparky, I think, take it easy boy, that’s it, down boy, I DO own a taser and I am NOT afraid to use it on your ass. “My God”, I think, “how long has this guy been out here by himself, and......what’s he running from?”, going all CSI on myself again.
I keep my distance and keep up the pleasant banter; when he finds out I am from Colorado he instantly is eager to know how recreational pot sales are doing there and we have some light conversation about how it should have been legalized long ago, everywhere, blah blah blah. I tell him I must get the dogs walked and eat some breakfast and be on my way. After breakfast he shows up magically once again, this time on his white chariot of a park golf cart on the pretense of giving me some brochures about the area. I tell him I actually can’t wait to get out of there and that this was only a one night stopover for me. I then question him on why he is out here, all alone most of the time. He gives me some lame story about the coast being too crowded and commercial (nah, say it ain’t so) and how he “likes” it out here, been out here 2 yrs now. 2 FECKING YEARS??? GOOD GOD MAN! I scream on the inside to myself, while looking him pleasantly in the face on the outside. Back slowly away from the crazy person Eli, I say to myself. How someone could be so oblivious to that wind 24/7 when I was ready to go insane after 10 min. tells me you’re out here for a reason, buddy. He tells me to stop by his camper on the way out and we will “burn one”. “Um, I’m driving?”, I say. But I tell him I’ll drop off my card and he can read my blog that I plan to put him in. “OK!” he exclaims a little too excitedly, and drives off to FINALLY leave me alone so I can get packed up and outta here.
On my way out, as promised, I park alongside the road and run over to give him a card. In return, old school style, he slips a Kodak film canister into my hand. “For later”, he says, “some San Luis homestyle flavor”. As I turn to go, he briefly puts his arm around my shoulders and tells me how nicely I fill out my shirt. "Whoa!" "Not cool dude, warning Will Robinson," the alarms go off full bore. "Gotta jet!" I say, and pick up my pace. I grin as I walk back to the Tahoe, tossing the film canister up and down in my hand like I’m all cool and everything, and having the wind blow it down the road. Laughing full blown now, I run after it. Man, who even HAS these anymore anyway - I can’t believe being a photographer all my life I used to have literally hundreds of them! Now the only one I have is from Stoner Bob at the San Luis Campground. I will pass your gift onto someone I don’t like in order to see what was in it, as I would never accept pot from a stranger, campground host or not. Sorry, nothing personal. Whatever you’re looking for or running from my friend, godspeed. Aren’t we all.
Until next time, I am living small and loving it largely.
Eli
