Wednesday, September 24
After my coffee and Bridget’s breakfast, our morning routine continues with an abbreviated walk on the peninsula of the Antelope Flat area of Flaming Gorge, Utah. I don’t want to miss breakfast at Kathy’s and Gil’s campsite!
I decide to skip the salsa as Kathy warns me it’s very hot. What you can’t see in the photo is the bottom layer which is a medley of vegetables including grape tomatoes, broccoli, and green pepper, sauteed with sausage and, I believe, garlic and maybe some other spices. On top of that are two poached eggs. What other ingredients are in the dish, I don’t know. I’m too busy eating to ask!
The three of us sit in our camp chairs in the morning sun and enjoy more conversation.
The time comes for goodbyes. Gil and Kathy walk Bridget and me to the Best Little Trailer. Shortly thereafter we head down the road with zucchini, butternut squash and other produce stowed in the BLT for future meals.
I drive us south on Route 191.
We go through Dutch John, over Flaming Gorge Dam, across the arch bridge, out of the Gorge, and into Ashley National Forest. My plan is to stop at Lodgepole Campground for water and to dump trash. I have a lot of trash — our own and all the stuff I picked up while walking the peninsula at Loon Lagoon Camp.
“Oh, no! It’s closed!”
As I drive, more aspens come into view.
They’re at the peak of fall color, sharply contrasting with the dark evergreens.
You may remember this camp from last July. This is where I photographed butterflies on wildflowers . . . “Boondocking with the birds and butterflies.”
It’s also the camp where a bear attacked the Best Little Trailer in the middle of a moonlit night . . . “Who’s that knockin’ at my door?”
I fully expect the campsites to be occupied by hunters. I’m pleasantly surprised.
No one’s here!
I set up camp in the same spot as last July, and I do mean exactly the same spot. I find the depression in the ground I used in July and back the BLT’s wheel into it. Instantly level! I like that.
Bridget and I take a short walk. I don’t want to venture deep into the forest because of the presence of bears. Instead we walk the forest road toward Route 191. It borders the meadow where I saw the herd of elk last July.
This camp reminds me of Spike. I have to get used to that. Bridget and I eat a cold supper. I don’t want to cook and entice a bear to our windows again. We go to bed early. Before turning in, I give the tooter a blast. Wow! Well, that sure is comforting!
Thursday, September 25
Even though our water supply is low, I figure we can make it through another day at this camp. I don’t feel like pushing myself. Lethargy is grief’s partner. When those two pair up, it’s pointless to fight them.
I sit in the lounger and read in the shade of the pine. Bridget wanders around camp or lies on the grass. The air temperature is perfect with a slight breeze.
With no one around Bridget and I can check out the campsites. There are some nice ones on this road.
“Warning: Do not camp or picnic in this area. Efforts are being made to capture a bear.”
Well, I wonder if it’s the same bear. Somebody must’ve had trouble and complained . . . .
“We’d better turn around and go home, Bridge.”
Later Bridget and I cuddle up on the bed and take a nap. When we awake, I feel much better.
Friday, September 26
We break camp and continue southward on Route 191. The aspens are ablaze!
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