Tuesday, March 24
In the morning, Bridget, Reggie, and I drive the few miles to Alamo. The day is sunny and bright. I’m restless.
“Well, Bridge, I think the time has come to move to a new camp. Do you like that idea, Reggie?”
I pull into Pickett’s RV Park behind the grocery store and buy 4.5 gallons of propane ($14.36). I also stock up on groceries and fill the PTV’s tank with gas @ $2.89 a gallon.
We return to our campsite on Upper Pahranagat Lake.
After lunch, I hitch up and we take Route 93 north through Pahranagat Valley.
Rather than turn to the northeast on Route 93 to Caliente and Pioche as earlier planned or go northwest on Route 275, the Extraterrestrial Highway , we take Route 318 due north. The speed limit is 70 mph until one approaches Hiko, a small farming and ranching community. It’s a smaller version of a former self. Some sites on the internet call it a ghost town.
The speed limit drops to 45 mph which I obey, forcing a line of vehicles to form behind the Best Little Trailer.
We drive through the populated (that’s an exaggeration) area and return to open road traversing flat desert with a few cultivated fields here and there. I see in the side mirror that the car behind me is becoming impatient, sliding over to the left to see if there’s a chance to pass. It seems like we’re in 70 mph territory again. Well, I’m not speeding up until I see a sign. I don’t care what parade is behind me.
I and my caravan go around a curve in the road and, lo and behold, there’s a sheriff’s car with lights flashing. A sixty-ish man stands by his car door listening to the officer. Gee, too bad, fella’.
Approximately two miles further a speed sign appears . . . . 60 mph. . . then 70 mph. I pull over and let the vehicles fly by. No need to thank me! Have a nice trip everybody!
Seventy miles of two-lane road take us through White River Valley.
There’s no evidence of human habitation off the road. Lots of sage, rocks and, far to the east and west, mountains. I don’t want to wake up the crew by stopping for photos.
At Sunnyside, we head west on a powdery sand and gravel road. We’ re on our way to the Wayne F. Kirch Wildlife Management Area, specifically to Dave Deacon Campground.
Bridget and Reggie slept the entire trip!
When they wake up, they will be wired and rarin’ to go. I pull over shortly before reaching the campground. After a walk-around, I take this shot of the Egan Mountains from whence we came.
Moving forward we drive past the Darcy Reservoir.
A flock of ducks takes flight.
Darn!
“Sorry to disturb you!”
Out the window of the Perfect Tow Vehicle I zoom in on a pair of ducks that landed way off. (Later, in editing, I enlarge the photo in order to make an identification and crop it to post here.)
I think these are a pair of Ruddy Ducks.
I base this on the blue bill and white cheeks of the male.
“We’re here, guys!”
From what I learned online, I’m not expecting anything more than a basic, primitive campground. Rustic.
People camp here to fish and hunt. The seven-mile distance from Route 318 deters RVers from using it as an overnight stop.
We’re in dusty, brushy, flat, arid, range land . . . . the part of the Great Basin less popular than the national park. Of course, it’s windy and, with an elevation of just over 5,200 feet, as well as it being four in the afternoon, the air is cool.
The snowy peaks of the Grant Range are the campground view to the west.
The campground is empty except for two clusters of campers.
This group is under cottonwood trees that haven’t leafed out yet. They have a boat and all-terrain vehicles.
The other group is under trees also. They have a boat, too. Hmm. . . I bet they’re duck hunters. (Note: A reader informs me that it isn’t likely they are hunters since the season is fall to winter, not in March.)
Sites aren’t clearly defined. I choose a table and shelter far away from everyone else.
Of course.
The photos below were taken later, after we were settled into our campsite.
Bridget is allowed to run around off-leash.
Reggie is on-leash and didn’t make it into the photos. He will reappear in the next post!
While walking at dusk a Western Meadowlark sings from his perch on a fence post.
I love the song of a meadowlark! Click this link and scroll down to hear its melody. The photo below shows our view to the east.
I’m surprised when I discover that the campground has . . .
. . . water spigots . . . and . . .
. . . a dump station . . . and it’s all free!
I check the weather forecast.
Tomorrow will be cool and windy again and then by the weekend will warm up to 70 degrees or so for highs and 40s for lows. The wind will calm. This camp may be plain and rustic, but it will do us fine as we wait for places north of here to warm up.
Temperatures go down into the 30s overnight.
The three of us keep warm snuggled together under the comforter and quilt. I don’t bother with the propane heater. Making coffee and toast on the stove top takes the chill out of the Best Little Trailer in the morning.
rvsue
THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AMAZON FROM MY BLOG!
Every purchase, large or small, is appreciated. Click the links to see a few of the items readers ordered recently.
Tombow Dual Brush Pen Set
AmazonBasics Lightning Car Charger
Hi-Tec Women’s Bandera Mid WP Hiking Boot
42-Pocket Over-the-Door Organizer, Natural Canvas
K&H Pet Bed Warmer, 13 Watts, Large, 11 By 24 Inches
Motorcycle Bluetooth Headset/Intercom with Universal Microphone Kit (Pack of 2)
Okay . . . Here they are. (Photo taken at our previous camp.)
