Friday, June 20
It’s a beautiful morning. I’m tempted to stay at our camp next to a park in Duchesne, Utah. However, I don’t want to push my luck with the hospitality of this fair city. We hit the road and head east.
Highway 191 becomes Highway 40.
It’s a two-lane road running along the Duchesne River. Being the only decent road running east-west in this part of Utah, it’s a thoroughfare for trucks. The speed limit is 65 mph which means 75 mph to many drivers (mostly the non-truckers). I refuse to tow faster than 60 mph. I pull over periodically to let the drivers on a mission fly by.
We drive through Roosevelt and go past the turn that takes one to Ft. Duchesne.
At the junction of Highway 88, I park in a large, flat parking area of dirt. While the crew wanders around, I contemplate my options.
Hmm . . . We could continue onward to Vernal. It’s not far. Go north toward the mountains and Flaming Gorge.
Or we could take Highway 88 to Pelican Lake. It’s only about 15 miles. At 4,800 it might be awfully hot. And then there are the biting flies I read about on a fishing website . . . .
I look southward across the barren land of the arid Uinta Basin.
Well, the Audubon Society does call it “an important bird area.” Pelican Lake . . . Oh heck. It’s only 12 miles or so. Might as well check it out. I’m not in the mood for more mountain climbing anyway and, who knows, we might hit the jackpot. . .
Pelican Lake comes into view.
Following the directions taken previously from a website, I drive around the lake to the south side, passing a few pelicans on the lake (too far away for me to photograph). I read that there’s a primitive campground (BLM, free) and a boat dock on the south side.
We arrive first at the campground on the right.
It consists of shelters on concrete pads with picnic tables. No shade except for one site by a few cottonwood trees. Going further, a short lane cuts over to the lake on the left. Fire rings and a few wooden picnic tables tell me people camp there, too.
Lots of reeds. That means great fishing. It also means flying insects. Not a good idea to camp near the lake. If we’re going to get away from bugs at all, the campground is our best bet. Let the people who fish have those lakeside sites . . . .
Gee, between these trees and the shelter would be a nice place to park. Oh, the ground is too uneven. I take a moment to figure out the points of the compass, not readily apparent at high noon. Finding a level spot where the afternoon shade will fall, I position the Best Little Trailer. This will be good!
I hurry to open up the side door of the Perfect Tow Vehicle.
“Okay, guys! You can get out now! We’re home!”
At least I THINK we’re home. Hmm. . . no bugs so far . . . We have the campground to ourselves . . . . Nice breeze . . . . It’s pleasant under this shelter . . . I could read and relax .
This may work out very well!
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