Friday, September 19
I awake to the cry of loons. The first time I heard them, which was a few days ago, I couldn’t believe my ears.
My Audubon bird guide says loons don’t go to Utah. Well, not in those words. Do I know what a loon sounds like? I’ve only heard them a few times in movies.
I try to get a good look as the pair fly by our camp.
They hang out around the island I’ve named Tamarisk Island. That’s too far for me to identify them by eye.
Hmm. . . maybe I’ll see their markings through my monocular. I try it. No good. Aha… the camera!
I zoom in for a shot and then enlarge and lighten it in Picasa editing.
This is the result. Fuzzy but it’s good enough to see the markings.
Looks like a loon to me!
Another mystery are the ten duck-type birds who visit the little cove next to our camp. They feed there every morning before sunup and every evening after sundown. It’s always too dark to see what they are. Even photographing them and editing doesn’t reveal their identity.
This morning I look out the window and get a break.
Ten mystery birds swim in a line around the point of our camp’s peninsula. They stop at the water’s edge in front of our door-side window. I guess last night’s storm prompted a change in behavior. They’re very busy grooming themselves.
I set my camera on “through glass” and take this shot through the window.
I’m am going to figure out what these ducks are! I do the same as I did for the loon. Of course, they will not stay still for a milli-second. I finally get a shot good enough to make an identification.
Okay, birdmeisters . . .
Mergansers, right? Am I right? Sometimes their head feathers stick out in back like they’re trying to be punk.
Now that we have the waterfowl out of the way . . .
Bridget doesn’t want to get up this morning.
It stormed last night and neither of us slept well.
“C’mon, Bridgie-baby, time to get up!”
I know what springs her into action… breakfast. When we’re both finished eating (ground beef for her, oatmeal for me), we head out for a walk. The air is fresh and cool, a gift of the storm.
It turns out to be our best hike ever!
We follow a pronghorn trail that takes us to the top of a ridge. We follow the two-track, stopping here and there for me to take pictures.
It’s higher than these photos indicate. An invigorating breeze blows. Water everywhere!
From up here we can see the roads we walked on previous hikes.
This really is an exceptionally fine place to be . . . .
The next photo shows a few of the numerous coves along the Reservoir.
Bridget is loving this hike and rarely stops to rest.
We could go all the way out to the end of the ridge. I’d like to see what it’s like on that spit of land (next photo). I think a road goes out there. Maybe there’s a campsite.
A few more yards and over a rise we come to a quick halt.
Oh, the pronghorns! The herd grazes peacefully below us. A few sentries on higher ground spot us.
On a previous walk we unintentionally disturbed them. I regretted that happened. They ran off at high speed across the slopes — about forty of them.
I don’t want to bother them again.
“Let’s go back, Bridge, and let them be.”
The remaining photos in this post complete our hike home.
What else have we been doing?
I take advantage of having lake water nearby. I fill a basin with lake water and carry it up to a table outside the Best Little Trailer. I add some dish soap and a small amount of bleach, put in the dirty dishes and utensils, and sit outside in my camp chair, washing and drying. The gulls and magpies provide entertainment.
I also wash my hair in the lake.
First I dip a basin into the lake to fill it. Then I put it on a little table I’ve set up at the water’s edge with my shampoo. I wade out and wet my hair. I get out of the lake and add shampoo and suds up. I walk away from the lake and squeeze out the suds. Then I rinse my hair in the basin. I wring my hair really well before wading out in the lake for a final rinse.
The basin is always dumped far from shore.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll wash the mud splatters off the Best Little Trailer.
Or maybe not. It was three days before I implemented my plan to wash the floor.
I know Bridget and I will sleep well tonight!
She’s already conked out beside me on the bed.
I don’t know how much longer we will stay at our peninsula camp. I think I lied once and said I never get bored. Well, for the most part, that’s true. Except for one thing.
Food!
My present supply of food bores me to no end. I’ve run out of fresh veggies and peanut butter and cheese and a lot of other standbys I like to eat.
I can manage with what I have for a few more days.
If I were forced, I could probably survive for a month, if I didn’t die from BOREDOM or go nuts with cravings.
Gosh, I’d love a piece of cake right now . . . or an eclair. Yeah, an eclair, the kind with creme filling . . .
rvsue
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