Sunday, August 2
Oh, looks like rain . . . I’m standing in Miller Lake, wading with my sandals on to avoid fish hooks. The water is clear and cool. It’s late in the day. I smell the smoke of campfires.
Wait a minute . . . That’s not rain. It’s smoke. And that’s not campfire smoke I’m smelling . . .
I’m not alarmed because I’ve learned that smoke from forest fires travels long distances.
Back at camp, I prepare for an early move in the morning.
With my claw hammer I pull up the stakes on the outdoor mat, fold it up, bungee it, and toss it into the back of the Perfect Tow Vehicle. I fold up the lounger and set it inside the side door behind the driver’s seat. The doggie beds go between the front seats for the crew’s comfort during tomorrow’s ride.
By this time the smoke is thick.
Later in the evening, rain arrives and clears the air.
Monday, august 3
I awake to rain softly tapping on the roof. Reggie slathers me with great-to-be-alive kisses (direct from my hiney to your face, RVSue!) and Bridgie whimpers, signalling it’s time for a potty run. I oblige.
Smoke is gone!
Soon we’re back in bed. “It’s too early for breakfast, Reggie. Settle down for one more snooze.” Obediently he curls up beside me.
Bridget scruffs the covers which is her way of telling me to lift up the comforter so she can crawl underneath. Again I oblige.
Aah, the sound of rain on the roof. Do we need to leave today? No. Why drive in the rain? It’s too nice to get out of bed. I could listen to this rain all day . . . .
Mid-morning the rain stops for an hour or so and I hitch up.
The campsite we’re in is too sloped to camp hitched up. I move the Best Little Trailer to a level campsite, another one situated along the lake.
Later, as I’m walking the crew during another break in the rain, the generator man calls out a hello and comes trotting out from his campsite.
“Is that your trailer?” he asks. I tell him it is.
And then the kicker . . .
“You pull that all by yourself?”
I have to make a point here. It is never, I’m mean NEVER, a good thing to remark in an incredulous tone “all by yourself?” to an adult doing a common adult thing like towing a trailer. It’s appropriate to say those words to a child who cut her own meat for the first time or has learned to dress herself. To say those words to an adult is condescending. Imagine a woman saying to a man, “You tow that trailer all by yourself?”
Several retorts come to mind.
I can read and write, too! And walk down a street without a male escort! And sit at a restaurant table alone! And own and sell property! And even VOTE!
However, I restrain myself. He realizes his blunder and back-pedals.
“I know guys who are afraid to pull a utility trailer, heh-heh.”
Nice try, pal.
It rains on and off all day. Bridget and Reggie sleep a lot and I read.
Tuesday, August 4
At Route 97 we head north.
At La Pine I stop again at Woody’s Travel Center and the attendant tops off the tank. Gee, I’m gonna’ miss Oregon . . .
In La Pine I also stock up on groceries and give Bridget and Reggie a walk-about.
I take Knott Road to skirt around the center of Bend.
This takes us to Route 20 where I turn east.
Out of the suburbs we move across flat desert of dried grass, rabbitbrush, and sage. Route 20 stretches straight ahead to the horizon which is . . . . Where the heck IS the horizon?
This is not a surprise. Presently fires are blazing not only in Oregon, but also in California, Washington, and Idaho. At the rest stop in Brothers, I ask a man, “What’s the story on the fires? I’m headed toward Burns.”
“I came from there,” he replies. “It gets better that way.”
Bridget, Reggie and I go over to the pet-walk area.
We come upon a woman walking two small dogs . . . so cute!
One of the dogs barks (fluffy dog on right, below) and the woman nervously yanks him back, “No! No!” Nervous tension fills the air. “He’s not used to being around other dogs!” she explains in a frantic tone.
Bridget and Reggie work their charm. The barking dog stops barking, obviously interested in meeting the crew.
Instead of taking the hint to allow the dogs some time socializing, she scurries them off to her RV.
A hundred miles east of Bend I pull off the highway.
We’re about 30 miles west of Burns. Smoke obscures the horizon across the flat desert plain, 360 degrees around us. There’s no driving out of it today. I’m tired of driving anyway — about 160 miles in one day is enough for me.
The reservoir is the main attraction here and when it is diminished, so is the campground.
(Notice the horizon. There are mountains over there. And see how the boat ramp is exposed.)
I pay $4 with my half-price senior discount and back the BLT next to one of two shade shelters. How one positions the rig can turn an ordinary campsite into a nice place!
We take a short walk to look around. It’s too hot for a long walk.
She says smoke settles here every year.
“Remember that big fire in Canada? We got the smoke from that!”
I read. Bridget and Reggie chew on raw bones (with most of the marrow scraped out). My supper is a sandwich I bought when at the grocery in La Pine.
Wednesday, August 5
After the usual morning routine, I attempt to blog. Reggie has other ideas.
“Okay, little gremlin, you win!”
It isn’t long before she catches up with us.
It rained lightly during the night which freshened the air of smoke.
The blogging done, I’ll pack us up and we’ll head to our next camp!
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