When we made our reservations for Memorial Day Weekend we knew it was not going to be quiet. We’ve done enough camping to know that any pay-sites are going to be crowded and loud on that particular weekend, so it was no surprise when we pulled in and saw every site filled with tents and cars.
Our site was large for the four of us, one of these eight person sites in the middle of a bunch of smaller ones. Since it was only four of us we had plenty of space to set up and stretch our legs while staying clear of our neighbors. The grounds are beautifully kept, the sites are clean, fire pits in good working condition, gravel roads are smooth. There was a port-a-potty next to our site and it was ripe by Sunday afternoon, but we couldn’t smell it at all from camp. Overall, I’d say the staff here do great work.
Friday night was noisy, cars coming in, loud greetings and reunions. The general hustle and bustle of air mattresses being filled and camps being setup. We quietly set down our roots and made dinner. Turned in a little early and crossed our fingers Saturday would be quieter. Dear Gods, were we wrong.
My wife and I awoke multiple times Friday night to unreasonable noise. I’m not talking about laughter and drunken debauchery, I mean car horns and blood curdling screams. At one point, about 3:00 AM I seriously wondered if a serial killer was working their way around the camp and viciously murdering the parents of children under two. I considered all the other options and determined that was the only reasonable explanation for the cacophony.
Saturday morning we sucked down our coffee, ate pancakes and bacon, cleaned dishes and went in search of the hikes advertised on the county website. We wandered, let the kids burn off some energy at the playground. I checked the bulletin boards for information about where to find the trail heads. They were covered in county-wide maps with ambiguous markings. I read the directions at the head of each and they indicated 20-30 mile drives from some address that is completely meaningless to me in a place without cell reception. Odd, I can’t exactly define those as local trails, but OK. Camp hosts are very busy and can’t be found, oh well, we aren’t in any dire need. We’ll just walk down to the creek and let the kids and dogs splash in the water.
As could probably be expected the watering hole was not peaceful, several groups of people had setup picnics and beers and were loudly enjoying the water. OK, we had fun, we’re not particularly social, but everyone picked their own stretch of the creek, and stuck to themselves. When it started to get really crowded we left, headed back to camp and started working on dinner.
We did our s’mores and said goodnight to the kids. My wife and I both secretly hoped that the first night was a fluke. When both our children were little the first night camping was always the worst. After they got adjusted things went well. Being wrong was becoming a pattern for us, the child neglect returned in full-force Saturday night. Perhaps these children are being raised by some nocturnal animals, and they were left unsupervised for the evening while the wolves went and gathered food? I could imagine that would be a tough gig. For the wolves.
Sunday morning we stumbled through breakfast cereal and coffee, my wife discovered a camp map cached on her phone with much more information about the trails. They’re actually here, in camp, not 30 miles up the road. Would it kill them to stick a copy of this map up on the information board? So we went for a hike. They were short trails along wide paths, about a quarter of mile of natural beauty then the next thing we knew we’re walking along the backs of people’s campsites. Huh, This isn’t nearly as isolated as it could be. Oh well, we fed the kids some salmon-berries and returned to camp. The kids spent every free moment at the campsite adjoining ours, playing with some like-aged children who were celebrating a birthday (opposite direction from the murder-orphans) and today was no exception.
My wife and I took advantage of the quiet camp to try to get a nap, she put in earplugs and I dozed off into a light nap. We were awoken by the kids of the deaf parents singing and clanging pots together. You can't make this stuff up. Well maybe I’m exaggerating, the clanging may have been a game of horseshoes fifty meters from our campsite. The clanging just happened to be (mostly) in time with the shrill singing. No, I’m certain they were banging rocks against the fire grate.
Sunday night was quieter, many campers headed home later in the evening, apparently intending to use the holiday as a recovery day. Perhaps a third of the sites emptied out, people lingered long into the evening, eating dinner and chatting around their fires. The cars, trucks, RVs, and their horns finally died off around 11:00PM. Far later than I would have anticipated considering the gates are supposed to be locked at 10:00. A casual stroll around the park revealed tents and bags being packed by my favorite neighbors. We secretly rejoiced and stayed up that last night, nursed our final beer and burned the last of our wood. At about the same time we decided to turn in for the night, the crying started again. There went the entire weekend.
No comments:
Post a Comment