Wednesday, March 25
Today is our first full day at our new camp at Dave Deacon Campground, located about 200 miles north of — and a world away from — Las Vegas, Nevada. The only bright lights here are from the rising sun.
The Best Little Trailer is positioned perfectly for those morning sunbeams to strike directly on the long, side window and reaching to the bed covers. The crew discovers this is a prime location for a morning nap.
The sun appears suddenly at this camp.
No gentle rays brush the world pink. At this range land camp, the sun clears the mountain peaks with its full beams on, bringing welcome warmth to our little home.
In fact, we startle a black-tailed jackrabbit in front of the shelter. He slowly hops away, a comical sight with long ears bobbing.
Interesting fact: Black-tailed jackrabbits don’t sleep in burrows. They sleep above ground, the better to hear the approach of predators.
The meadowlarks resume their singing from yesterday’s twilight. This is a peaceful camp.
I’m the only woman here.
The men take off with their boats to fish, leaving the campground almost empty for me and the crew, until they return at lunchtime before going away again for the afternoon.
I like to stay around camp the first day.
After breakfast and replying to comments on the blog, I walk the crew. As we pass a group of campers, a hunting dog runs out to greet Reggie and Bridget.
Bridge says hello, Bridget-style.
A brief show of her teeth establishes the limits of this social interaction between females. Hmm . . . I’ve used that method.
I heat up a big pot of water on the stove which removes the last of the chill in the house.
After my bath, I wash dishes from yesterday in a basin in front of the sunny window. I use my last clean dish towel to dry them.
Next I pull a few dish towels from the hamper in the closet and wash them. I string a line from the handle next to the door of the BLT to the frame of the shelter and dig out a few clothes pins from the Perfect Tow Vehicle.
The wind picks up, quickly drying the hand-washed towels.
Next I unhitch.
When arriving at a new camp I try to park the BLT in a level or near-level spot so that I don’t have to unhitch right away.
Why don’t I unhitch right away?
Sometimes I find something wrong with a site that I didn’t notice at first. Maybe the sun and shade isn’t quite right. In campgrounds a neighbor might be too noisy. If I don’t unhitch, I can make a quick change. Anyway . . . .
In this camp I park the BLT in a place that is perfectly level from side-to-side (indicated by the bubble level over the propane tanks at the front). It’s slightly high at the front end (indicated by a bubble level by the door). I put plastic leveling blocs in front of the back tires and tow the BLT onto them. All set for overnight!
Okay, that was yesterday, back to this morning . . .
In order to unhitch, I need to make sure the crew is out of the way and happy. Aha! Time to make a tether for the Reggie Man!
Using the same cord as the makeshift clothesline, I tie one end to a tent stake and drive it into the ground. I find a clasp in my drawer of junk and tie it to the other end.
“There you go, Reggie.”
The cord is stronger than it looks in the photos. I suppose Reggie could chew through it if left alone a long time, which I won’t do. I set up a chair to keep an eye on him. The next photo, while not a good pic, does show the radius of his roaming circle. (The tent stake is in the upper left.)
We’re all set for several days.
The cupboard and fridge are well-stocked.
I bought the fixins’ for meals that “keep” for a while… black beans and rice, eggs for omelets and sandwiches, Progresso soups, that sort of thing.
The nearest grocery store is in Ely, some 70 miles from our camp.
Later, that evening . . .
It’s around 9 p.m. and the campground is quiet. I’m sitting at the laptop with one light on. A car drives up to our campsite with its lights turned off. It stops. I turn off the light and pull back the curtain as someone gets out of the car. The interior light doesn’t come on, so I can’t see who it is. I hear the car door shut.
I get up and make sure the door is locked.
Shortly I hear footsteps creeping around the Best Little Trailer.
“HELLO!” I shout. I quickly add in my most assertive tone, “WHADDAYA WANT?”
“I lost my dog,” a male voice replies. “I thought maybe you could tell me something. Have you seen him?”
Bridget is barking her fool head off. Can’t blame her. This is unusual.
I speak loudly through the closed window.
“You talking about that hunting dog?”
“Yeah. She’s a German Shorthair Pointer. Usually she comes back before dark.”
“The last I saw her she was going over to meet the new guy. Over to the truck camper. I don’t know anything more than that because we went inside. That was around sunset.”
Thursday, March 26
Bridget, Reggie, and I walk over toward the entrance/exit of the campground to go up the road. As we pass the group of campers, a man comes outside holding a cup of coffee.
“Did you find your dog?” I call out.
“No, we haven’t.”
“I apologize for sounding rude last night. I heard someone creeping around . . . . ”
“Oh, that wasn’t me. That was the other guy. He’s out looking for his dog right now.”
To be continued . . .
Next post: The crew and I look for the hot springs!
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