A boondock near Beaver, Utah, and “It’s off to mow I go!”

Today’s post features photos of a free campsite in Fishlake National Forest, a few miles east of Beaver in western Utah and not far from Interstate 15.

 Although not as spectacular as many other boondocks, this spot ranks high for convenience.  It is pretty enough, has no neighbors, and is a level pull-through, easily accessed off Route 153.   At the back of the site, Beaver River flows along the canyon wall.

If you happen to find this campsite occupied, go further east on Route 153 to Little Cottonwood Campground or continue up into the mountains to Kents Lake and Mahogany Campgrounds.  Photos and information about Little Cottonwood may be found at my post, “Guest Bloggers: Little Cottonwood, Beaver, Utah.”  The post before that one introduces this boondock.

Photos are from our camp of October 2015.

Reggie, Roger and I are off the road this summer, living in our house in southern Arizona.

Monday, July 16 (continued) in Arizona

After posting about the impending arrival of a new lawn mower and a few minutes before I’m about to set off to buy gas for it, readers alert me in comments that small engines don’t like gas with ethanol.

Oh.  Gas stations in Arizona only sell gas with ethanol.  I’m told Briggs and Stratton says ten percent ethanol is okay.

Well, I hold my new mower to a higher standard than that.  No ethanol for my precious mower!

What to do?

As is often my response to a predicament such as this, I do nothing.  Things have a way of working out.

Mike the roofer appears!

From a message he left on my phone early this morning, I don’t expect to see him today, due to the rain.  This morning it looked like it would rain all day.  Surprisingly the rain stops around noon, grey clouds float away, and the day turns bright.

“I need to measure for the fascia boards,” Mike explains.  “I also want to get some of this product (roof surface stuff) I left here.  I got a call from a guy whose roof started leaking. He wants me to do a complete resurface.  I told him I’m involved in a job right now and can’t do that, but I’ll come up and do an emergency patch.”

“Mike, I want you to look at something over here,” I say, leading him to the back of the house.  “Since you’re going to put up new downspouts, I’m thinking about having rain barrels put here and over there.  What do you think?”

“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” Mike responds.

That’s one of the things I like about Mike.  He’s open to ideas and as-we-go modifications to plans.  In fact, I think he thrives on it.  Soon he’s deep into his own ideas how the barrels can be elevated to provide water pressure out of the spigots, options for handling overflow from the barrels, and so forth.

I also like that he takes the time to explain his thinking.

Cheerfully I mention my new lawn mower arrived today.

“I understand it’s not good to use gas with ethanol.  Where do I get gas without it?”

“At the airport.  That’s where I’m going from here.  I need to get some for my riding mower.  I have two acres to cut.”

Mike thinks for a moment.

“Why don’t you let me give you five gallons of what I have and then you won’t need to drive out to the airport,” Mike offers.

“Gosh, that would be great, Mike!  Thank you!  That would really simplify my life!”

I open up the passenger door of the Perfect Tow Vehicle and retrieve my new gas can.  It holds 1.5 gallons.  (The larger ones have nozzles so safe they’re impossible for me to open.)

“One and a half gallons will be enough for my little mower.”

Mike offers to assemble the mower for me.

I protest and he insists.  He heads for the front of the house with my gas can in hand.  I tag behind.

In a few moments Mike has the mower out of the box, assembled, gassed up, and the oil that came with it poured in.

“Okay.  Now for the moment we’ve been waiting for,” I remark dramatically.

Mike pulls the rope and . . .

She starts up on the first pull!

Tomorrow I’ll mow.

It’s too hot and humid from the morning’s rain to tackle the yard today.

Tuesday, July 17

I wait unti 8 a.m. out of consideration for the neighbors.  Four pulls of the rope (not the fault of the mower) and off I go!

Oh, how I love the smell of cut grass in the morning, especially when it’s MY cut grass.



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