Wednesday, October 16
Tinnemaha is a few miles southwest of Big Pine, California, which is about fifteen miles south of Bishop. The photo above shows our second campsite here. Yesterday a big fifth wheel pulled out of this spot. Within a few minutes we moved in! I like this site because we have a whole section to ourselves.
Tinnemaha has an unusual feature.
A paved road, which fortunately has almost no traffic, runs into the campground and out the other end. The crew and I are on this side of the road. Everyone else — two fifth wheels and two trailers — are on the other side of the road. Bridget and Spike can wander around a big open area and I can easily keep an eye on them.
When I sit at the picnic table or in my camp chair I can look at the Sierra Nevada brushed with snow. A creek flows behind our campsite.
I need something to read.
My kindle broke and I’ve read all my books. What to do? I walk over to the fifth wheels parked close together. Two couples are hanging out together. Earlier I saw one of the women reading.
“Excuse me. I’m out of books and my kindle is broken. I’m about to go crazy (a little exaggeration doesn’t hurt!). Do you happen to have any books to trade? I have two Sue Grafton mysteries.”
I walk away with Peachtree Road by Anne Rivers Siddons! That’s what I read most of the day, yesterday.
Which reminds me . . .
Yesterday was my birthday. Thanks again for your wishes for my happiness. I am very blessed to have you in my life, and, yes, I had a very happy birthday!
I haven’t picked up my presents to myself yet.
Online I track the deliveries. Everything is sitting up at the UPS facility in Bishop except the trail shoes, wheel chocks, and the crew’s coats. The hat I ordered is waiting at the Bishop post office.
I forgot to tell you about The Hat.
Every time I think of that hat the less I like it. First off, it reminds me of the hat worn by that skinny-necked creature on the cover of the Dr. Seuss book, The Cat in the Hat. . . or an overturned chamber pot.
What ever was I thinking? I’m going to look like a BUM in that hat. (Click on the hat to see a close-up and details.)
Talk about dumb . . .
I’ve never been what one would call tidy. Housework is not a regular part of every day. When the clutter exceeds my tolerance level, which, I admit, is pretty high, I suddenly see the mess as if for the first time. Then I’m filled with disgust and swing into action.
I’m in a cleaning and tidying frenzy.
I’ve got my spritz bottle and my cleaning rag and I’m going full-throttle. I’m multi-tasking because I know this spurt of cleaning energy will not last and I want to get as much done as possible before I drift outside with a book and settle into my camp chair. I know me.
Spritz, spritz, wipe, wipe, put that away, straighten that up, spritz, wipe, spritz, wipe, that goes in the laundry, that goes in the drawer, turn off the burner, pour a cup of coffee, throw in some sweetener . . . huh?
What did I just do?
When multi-tasking runs amok
Oh, for heaven’s sake! I burst with laughter.
Floating on the surface of the coffee, like a green paper raft, is the packet of sweetener.
It’s taking on coffee and sinking fast!
Bail! Bail!
Things aren’t always as they seem . . .
Reading this blog one would think the crew and I never have a bad moment. I admit we have it pretty darn good.
However, sometimes things get a little — how shall I say? — strained.
If you’ve ever lived in close quarters with someone else, you probably can relate to what I’m talking about. Sometimes Bridget and Spike get on my last nerve. It usually happens when I’m in the middle of posting on this blog and trying to insert photos. One or the other has to be let outside or wants me to add water to the dish or insists on being lifted up onto the bed.
Other times it’s Bridget and Spike who need some personal space.
Bridget: Disgusted with Spike’s behavior Spike: Guilty as charged
This is a recent photo taken upon arrival at Crescent Lake, Washington. Pretty much says it all.
Help me solve this mystery please.
Last night I wake with a start. What was that? I lift my head from the pillow and listen intently. Nothing. Gee, I could’ve sworn something bumped the BLT.
There it is again! I listen. Nothing. Spike rolls himself over by kicking the wall. Oh, it must’ve been Spike. I go back to sleep.
This morning I step outside.
I want to take a picture of the early light on the mountains. Usually the mountains are shades of grey.
While outside I discover this!
Footprints all over the propane tanks cover! These are not small, kitty-cat prints. That print in the lower left is four inches from middle toe to the bottom edge of the palm. A cat jumping on the propane tanks cover wouldn’t wake me up out of a sound sleep. Cats are stealthy and quiet.
What the heck?
The same type prints are on the hood of the PTV. I open the passenger door so I can stand on the step to look at the roof. Prints all over the roof!
Any ideas?
The crew and I are content here at Tinnemaha Campground.
We have privacy and great scenery. The weather is good, a little chilly in the morning, but it’s getting warmer every day.
I can cough up ten bucks a day until all my packages arrive. Then I’ll zip over to Bishop and pick them up.
The following day we’ll continue our trek southward.
rvsue
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“REAR VIEW MIRROR”
July 6, 2011 the three-canine crew and I travel from our home in Georgia to Boca Raton, Florida, to visit my younger sister. We haven’t seen each other in twenty years! Plus the “backyard” canines walk on-leash for the first time!
“Our first trip is a success!”
