People with big RVs can camp at Mittry Lake, too.
The crew and I take a walk up to the big rig area on the opposite side of our road. We can’t see it from our campsite. The road curves up a hill to a flat area. A Class A is parked here with a screen room, and also a large trailer along the water’s edge. I’m surprised to see water at this higher elevation.
As you can see in the next photo, there’s room for more.
Somebody with a truck camper is tucked into a cozy spot. I think it’s good that we’re limited to ten days in a calendar year. The place won’t be over-used and run down.
I stop to talk with a guy sitting on the ground fixing his bike.
Actually, Spike and Bridget run over to meet him so they can check his food supply, and I follow. The guy’s name is Dale. He’s traveling lightly… a few pots, a small tarp under his air mattress, a satchel, not much of anything.
I ask him where he’s from.
“I live between Sacramento and Lake Tahoe
“Must be nice. I’ve never been there, but I bet it’s pretty,” I remark.
“Oh, it’s beautiful, but the pine forest is cold right now. I got tired of freezing so I said, ‘I’m goin’ to the Sonoran Desert.'”
Dale continues tightening spokes.
He adds, “I can’t believe I made ten miles yesterday in a head wind. I used to bike when I was in my twenties. I’m fifty-five now, haven’t biked in all those years, and . . . ” He shakes his head.
Dale asks me where I’m from which leads to an explanation of my philosophy of life.
“You don’t need a lot of stuff to be happy,” Dale agrees. He looks around at his sparse camp. Apparently he’s camping without a tent. He stops his work for a moment and looks back in time.
“I was working hard so I could live the life and pay off debt. Then it got to the point where I couldn’t afford the gas to go to the job.”
I fetch Spike out of Dale’s stuff, and turn to leave.
“C’mon, Bridget. God bless you, Dale, and have a safe trip, wherever you go.”
As I start to walk away Dale asks me if there’s water up at the bathrooms.
“I don’t know. I carry my water with me so I didn’t think to look. If you can’t find water, stop by my camp and I’ll give you some.”
Before returning to camp the crew and I make a detour.
We investigate the empty campsites along the lake. Most of them are suitable for small trailers like the Best Little Trailer, truck campers, vans, or tents.
One is large enough for a big rig, but right now it’s still muddy.
We come upon a spit of land jutting out into the lake.
There are several of these. Maybe they were constructed for waterfowl. The reeds along each spit of land do provide a haven for water creatures.
On the way back toward the main land, Spike pauses at an opening in the reeds.
“Spike! Are you going to take a soak?”
I kneel down to capture the moment in the classic composition of a Spike soak photo: Body in the foreground with beautiful water and scenery in the background . . . . Got it!
Someday I’m going to count how many soak photos I have of my boy.
Some readers like to know what I eat.
Why, I don’t know. Anyway . . . I aim to please, so here goes.
When we get back to camp, I chop up a big onion and the two remaining zucchinis. I put them in an oiled fry pan and cook them until lightly browned.
Then I put a lid on the pan and cook a few more minutes until the zucchini is as soft as I want.
I add a can of diced tomatoes and some spices… garlic, dried red pepper, or Italian mix? I throw something in the pan from my spice collection, not sure what . . . a little of this and a little of that.
A few minutes simmering with the lid off . . . and I eat! Mmm . . . Not bad. A vegetable stew. The leftovers will be even better.
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“REAR VIEW MIRROR”
September 5, 2013 — less than three months ago from today’s post — the crew and I explored a beautiful rainforest in Washington.
“Hamma Hamma Campground, Hood River, Washington”
