Monday, October 20 – Wednesday October 22
Did someone hit me in the head with a club while I slept?
Ever since Bridget and I settled into this camp at the southern reaches of Lake Powell — one of the most scenic places in the country, if not the world — I’ve been in a stupor. Oh sure, I push Bridget around in her stroller, I lounge, I look at the view, I read (now halfway through the third book of the Outlander series) . . . and I sit around chatting with Jack when he comes over in the afternoons.
Jack’s an interesting guy, by the way.
He’s originally from Holland (I’ll use the country name he uses). Most of his childhood was spent in Indonesia. During World War II his family was dispersed when Dutch people were rounded up and sent to different concentration camps. Jack was seven when he was sent to a boys’ camp and separated from his family.
He married an American girl and raised a family in Massachusetts. A widower now, he’s been RVing full-time since 1998.
I enjoy listening to his tales of travel to and around Europe over the years, as well as his full-timing experiences.
The photo (above) shows the rest room building at the day use area. This is the extent of our travels lately. Hmm. . . . nice facilities here. Like what you’ve done with the place . . .
Thursday, October 23
Our neighbors on the bluff have dwindled to two — Jack and one other camper.
I still haven’t paid any campground fees. I’ll be darned if I’m going to DRIVE to find someone to take my money. If asked by an official person, I’ll gladly pay because I do appreciate the water spigot, dump station, and trash bins.
It’s another beautiful day in the desert.
Bridget and I have hung around camp for three days. I need to get off my can. We need to go somewhere and do something today. We’re turning into a pair of camp potatoes!
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