The good thing about neighbors who like to party at night is there isn’t any sign of them in the morning.
We can’t see the neighbors from our camp on Flaming Gorge Reservoir.
When the generators are turned off and the party people are sleeping the morning away, the crew and I have our own kind of fun on the beach.
We don’t need any gasoline. We don’t need any toys. All we need for fun is some sunshine, water, the beach, and each other.
The few days that we’ve camped here it has been very hot.
The awning and the reservoir make it pleasant, in spite of the heat. Whenever the urge hits me, I stop what I’m doing and walk down to the water. I don’t bother to change what I’m wearing. I walk in wearing my shorts, top and waterproof Keen sandals..
After a swim,I stay in the wet clothes for their cooling effect. It’s a great way to live!
I don’t know what it is about this water but my hair, which is past my shoulders now, has become fluffy and soft as a baby’s and I can’t believe how tan I am!
Even though I love it here, my thoughts are on our next camp.
I could find another beach camp north of here. The shoreline is one cove after another with dirt roads to their beaches. I do need groceries. I’ve run out of breakfast food. Don’t even have oatmeal, not that I want to eat oatmeal on a summer morning. . .
We’ll have to go to Green River for groceries. That’s about 30 miles away. I’m not gonna’ leave the BLT here and then have to come back. Once we’re in Green River, I’ll want to keep going to a new camp.
Gee . . . Green River is going to be hot. Low elevation. Grass, sagebrush, few trees. Badlands. Not good boondocking country.
“C’mon, Bridgie! Aren’t you the little mountain goat today!”
We need to head for some mountains.
The dang air conditioner isn’t working! Why is it that I place us in a spot where we have to cross a dadburn DESERT precisely when the air conditioner is on the fritz? Gosh, that stretch from Spokane to Ellensburg last year was hell with no a/c . . . .
“You, too, Spikey! You can do it!”
Why am I hollering at a deaf dog? Sheesh. He’s probably glad he doesn’t have to listen to me any more.
Well, we’ve done pretty well as far as the bugs go.
Here it is almost August and we haven’t dealt with mosquitoes, biting flies, or no-see-ums. A few back at Pelican Lake, but they weren’t bad.
I want a good-sized mountain stream or a lake.
If we could find a waterside camp at a higher elevation, 8,000 feet or so, with no bugs, that would be ideal. So we have to ride with the windows down. Big deal. It’d only take a couple hours to make it to the Wind River Range.
The Wind River Range . . . . I like the sound of that!
Back at our campsite, I freshen up the crew’s water.
I pour myself a glass of Pepsi from the fridge and settle into the lounger with my atlas of Wyoming. I trace a possible route and look for campgrounds and possible boondock areas. Yeah, maybe we’ll leave tomorrow . . . .
There goes Spike, off for another soak . . .
rvsue
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“Wow! You’re a water dog, too!”
