Lake Tahoe is a busy camping destination? Really? No vacant no-hookup tent sites? Oh, an overflow area with no picnic table or fire pit, no, that should be fine..
Somewhsere around 50 miles to Reno we thought about booking a tent site. Of course we'd forgotten it was Friday in the summer, so there wasn't much luck calling every campsite we could. The exchange above took place with a woman at the KOA in South Lake Tahoe, who talked us out of making a reservation.
We felt pretty good about doing that, and the drive in was great. We definitely need to go back there without our apartment behind us. Looks like it's a good place for fun outdoors adventures.
The camp was pretty full when we pulled in, but I was confident about the overflow area, which was supposed to be clearly marked with a sign and on the map. There was, naturally, absolutely no indication of any extra area to camp, and we took the truck around the very tight path to look at the sites. There were a few partial and full hookup sites, but nothing for just a tent, which was already pricey for camping.
There wasn't any service in the area, so the phone was useless for looking for other lodging. Matthew parked and ran to look for a guy in a campsite sweatshirt. This turned out to be the best idea, thank goodness, because he showed us to an open site! Sure, it was on a slope and terrifying to pull into, but it was a place to sleep. There was even a picnic table.
After heating our soup and having a beer (probably not allowed, but no one was looking), we crawled into a very cold tent. I woke up shivering not long after falling asleep, then woke up bursting for the bathroom, but scared to go out due to the possible furry beasts that could be sniffing for dinner. When I finally got enough courage, Matthew requested the other blanket, in the front part of the truck, at which point I mentally wrote a giant thank-you note to Wall Drug, where earlier this week we impulse bought 2 "Indian" blankets. They're made of acrylic, which U don't think grows much on the plains.
When I got back to the tent, there were some very loud snores coming from next door. Matthew said he wouldn't have let me go if he'd heard that before I went out. I said it sounded like my dad, who is not a bear, and so I was pretty sure I had been safe.
Once the sun came up we warmed up enough to get out from under the covers. After settling the bill and getting some coffee, we opened the fortune cookies we'd gotten at the registration desk. Guess it was a Christian camp, because the fortunes were Bible verses. We were blessed to find the place I guess.
Back on the road, I was behind the wheel over and around the mountains around us. I pulled into a For-Sale restaurant, then a convenience store type place where the sign made it look like a diner, which was not going to do for breakfast. Finally pulled off in Camino, off 50, and found a little coffee shop run by a husband and wife who set up shop after many years in the Bay Area. First people to be amazed that we were coming from New York, and also to say that one eventually tires of the Bay Area. They were excited to hear Matthew's accent, because they have an adult child living in England, and at first it sounded like maybe where he grew up, but that was just them being confused about the name of the town. Nice folk. That being said, everyone we've interacted with, save the woman at the tollbooth on Chicago, has been pleasant and friendly. This is a pretty nice country, at least on the route we took.
We are still driving, and have just pulled through a patch of traffic outside of Sacramento. Berkeley is so close! Moving into a new apartment this afternoon after nearly a week on the road. It feels like we just left and it's amazing we are already this far. Now we have to figure out what the new version of real life is, but first order of business is getting there (and a shower).
Saturday, August 7, 2010
High season camping
Friday, August 6, 2010
Longest day
It might not have been our longest day but it felt like it. Wyoming is a beautiful landscape, but let's just say they don't post signs when there's no gas for 80 miles. Let's also say for the record that a quarter tank in the middle of sprawling fields should scream "Get gas!" but I am an optimist (at times) and decided to not say anything as Matthew had just had a rough time registering for classes on the phone. It's not easy with the touch screen and the lack of steady connection. He did know about how much there was and I did say they should post this, but not everyone is not so silly as I to think signs are always posted when one should just be prudent. Tant pis pour nous.
About two-thirds of the way on the 52 mile stretch, the light and alarm went off. I always think of the Seinfeld episode where they drive below empty to see just how empty empty is. Empty, it turns out, is not that empty! 32 miles to the next town and we made it. The sun was blazing, but I was ready to volunteer myself for a 5 mile run if needed. Thankfully, it didn't come to that, or to hitch-hiking, but it did give me a big adrenaline rush and I was shaking the rest of the day.
Aside from that little hiccup, we drove on through Casper, then pushed on for Salt Lake City. Not exactly a disaster, but the campground on the lake was closed, so we tried finding something else, with little luck. Eventually, I spotted a sign for a campsite, which looks a lot like the beehive shaped thing indicating certain Utah highways. Did I mention it was 10:30 already?
So, the campsite. Not a KOA, but not much better. We pulled into Lagoon, an amusement park, with what seemed to be a full zoo next to the campground. There were campsites available, so we pulled in and set up, quite relieved to be able to get to bed. There were some animal sounds in the morning and a group "Addicted to Jesus," which Matthew thought might be some kind of counseling system using Jesus to help addicts, but I think they were just addicts themselves, which is a bit happier, I think.
So we left this morning, driving away from the camels and the emus and the Backdraft, the only ride you need closed toe shoes for...
Salt Lake didn't entice us further, but we did finally stop for gas at a Sinclair, which, for those who haven't seen this gas franchise, has a dinosaur for a mascot. It seems more appropriate than a tiger. We tried a pistachio milkshake, simply based on the ad featuring a child covered in ice cream claiming it was not ice milk. Yummy!
Not having seen much of the salt flats, we were again wowed when 80 led us through what looked like very white sand plains or snowy fields. Well, boy oh boy! Salt! Far as the eye could see. We did have a walk around on it, and it was really bright, which is kind of like saying ice cream is cold.
I am navigating through Reno at the moment, but will post some photos later. Crossing into California tonight, so we are very nearly almost there.
Note from the management
Despite the name, no workers were killed in the production of Devils Tower. In fact, the name is probably a mistranslation by the dudes who found the place during their western exploration who brought a translator who didn't speak the right language. Anyway bear doesn't always mean evil.
Onwards, upwards - Devils Tower
Once we were done with the Rushmore detour, we got back on 90, and drove along at 75 mph, the speed limit in these parts. The "Georgia Rambler" episode of This American Life was playing, and the story had just mentioned an arrest made for speeding. Suddenly, Matthew started and I thought maybe there was wildlife or a very speedy motorcycle, but no, we were being pulled over. As an aside, the truck has a maximum speed of 75. You can push the gas down hard as you want, it won't climb past 76. Maybe downhill. So we probably were not speeding.
The police officer asked for Matthew's license, then the rental agreement, which took a moment to find in the mess. Eventually the cop explained that on account of the motorcycle rally in Sturgis, all trucks were being pulled over to check that rentals weren't carrying commercial goods. He had spent time in England a few years ago, so he and Matthew had a little chat about England. Nice guy.
After that, we made sure to drive extra careful, to avoid having to be pulled over by him again!
Thinking that time was getting precious, we pulled off at a tourist info center to find out how late we could get into a campsite near Devils Tower. Once off the freeway, there was a sign pointing to the right, so we took the scenic route. No phone service, winding roads up and down steep grades, with the speed limit at 65...I was a but nervous. But we rolled into Hulett, a logging town not far from the park, having caught only a glimpse of what was in store. The grocery store was closed, but the bar and an antique shop with a museum on the Lakota in back were both open. With a 6-pack of beer and whatever food we had leftover to cook, we decided to push on to the park.
Another breathtaking moment...Devils Tower is one lump of rock your eyes can't be pulled from. It's so much more than a lump of rock, but that is its essence. Rocky rockness.
The KOA was right at the entrance, but we decided to leave the park fee in the envelope and drive to the campsite inside. The sun was mostly set at that point, but with the lantern my dad gave us, we'd be fine. It was another 12 bucks for the camping, but for $22 to set up the tent at the bottom of the trails, with a decent view of the Tower, it was more than worth it. Unfortunately, I managed to let the lamp slip when I was unloading our dinner prep, so we made do with the flashlights. Matthew did most of the tent set up, then we wandered down the trail for a little look-see before all the light was gone. There was a presentation going on about the park and the animals. Prairie dogs are a keystone animal. There was lightning going on, and the rain was starting to fall, so we had to scrap dinner and have some rolls and a banana. And beer. Made it to the tent with plenty of time, but I stood out to watch as much as I could of the storm. Pretty neat to catch flashes of the Bear's Lodge rising up in the dark.
The tent held up quite well! The morning dew gets it just as wet. We woke up for an early hike up the hill and around the base of the tower. We saw a ton of prairie dogs, some deer, a few rabbits, and a lot of rocks. The walk took about an hour and a half, and we got to take in the tower from an up close angle. I still can't believe how many people were climbing it. Sheesh. Anyway, sounds fun and all if you're into that kind of thing. Not my bag, I'll enjoy the view from the ground, which is splendid enough!
Down from the hike, we made coffee, packed the tent, and started out towards Salt Lake City, Utah, with a lot of Wyoming in between. Highly, highly recommended.
Posing
Devils tower in the back, handsome devils in the front. I'm not sad, just squinting.
Mount Rushbore
I know this might come off as disrespectful, but Mount Rushmore was underwhelming. Maybe because cowboy bagels were a bust (just closing as we walked in), and lunch was Papa Johns, there was a drop in mood. Maybe because the place is so much smaller than I had imagined it, but with enough crap to buy that you'd think the the faces of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln were there naturally. My guess is it was a dare. Someone said to Borglum, "Hey, I there's a giant rock face in South Dakota, and I bet you couldn't carve a memorial in it if your hands were made of a chisel and a mallet." Well look at that, he did, with the help if dynamite. What I am getting at with this rant is that the landscape leading up to the memorial seems to be worth more than the visual. They could have named a park after the presidents and it might have been a better tribute. But there were enough people there to gawk at the American curiousity. I overheard a few who admitted to not knowing who was carved up there, besides being past presidents. I would have forgiven the French woman, except she suggested Ben Franklin, who spent a load of time over there and probably appears in history lessons.
So we had a time there, then hit the road. Wyoming was up next, and I was unsure how to feel after the afternoon's disappointment.
