Sarah Wynde's Blog, page 30

Best of June 2019

The last days of June 2019 were a whirlwind. Well, a whirlwind followed by a couple days of the kind of complete and utter laziness where even taking the computer down from the overhead compartment seemed too much like work.

The month started in Yellowstone, and included stays in Wyoming, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, and Pennsylvania. There was a national park, a state park, the Far West Fishing Access campground, boondocking outside a national park, an Army Corps of Engineers campground, a city park, three national forest campgrounds, four county parks, a KOA and two driveways. Not in that order.

And I will pause for a moment to mention Wolf Creek Park, the only campground that I did not write about during the month as it happened. It was… weird. It was a county park in Ohio, where I spent one night while I was on the road from Michigan to Pennsylvania, and it was perfectly nice but completely empty. Most campgrounds have a host, so there’s always at least one other camper, but Sandusky County had an online payment system and not a single person at the campground. I was totally alone. The campsite I chose was in a loop around an open green space and I’m pretty sure that it would have been pleasant even if it was crowded. As it was… it was pleasant, yes, but also spooky. There was a lot of traffic noise from the nearby highway, but I somehow felt like I was trespassing, even though I had paid my $15.

[image error]Alone at Wolf Creek Park, Sandusky County, Ohio.

Moving on — it was such a busy month that there are plenty of options for the best moment of the month, but as I have learned in my almost three years of full-time van life, the best moments are almost always about the people. In June 2019, it was the mini-reunion with college friends in Rochester, MI. Sitting on the front porch and laughing about our yearbooks; reading letters I wrote when I was 18 (my handwriting was so much more legible back then!); walking to the farmer’s market; enjoying the Motown museum and the pedalpub boat ride; and especially playing SongPop Party, the most ridiculous “Name That Tune” game, which was so very entertaining, despite the fact that I was horrifically bad at it. (A week later, I am still amused that in about fifty rounds of the game, the only times I budged from the bottom of the chart were when I chose the Taylor Swift and One Direction categories. Yay for modern pop!)

Picking a best campground, though, is impossible. I stayed in so many beautiful places. But I’ve definitely moved national forests up on my list of campgrounds to consider. They don’t usually have electricity, so they’re not great for me in the heat when I need AC for Zelda, and their campsites tend to be smaller and not necessarily level, but those three campgrounds were true highlights of my trip east. I was moving fast to make the reunion and blueberry season, but they would have been beautiful places to spend a relaxed couple of weeks appreciating nature. Maybe next year!

And meanwhile, it’s time to get back to writing a book. My own adventures were fun, but I’m eager to get back to enjoying Fen’s adventures instead!

Trout Lake & Wagner Lake

[image error]My campsite at Trout Lake

I could blame the weather or the bugs, but I think I should have thought twice about staying at Trout Lake Campground when the campground host casually mentioned that they were expecting a full house on the weekend because they were hosting a big off-road vehicle rally. I’d already handed him my credit card for two nights, however, and I really wanted a shower. If I’d known that the showers were the type were you have no control of the water temp and that the mosquitoes were sharing their meals with the black flies, I would have snatched my credit card back out of his hand. It was, however, only for two nights, so I will stop complaining now. And I’d had a long day before getting there so I really was ready to stop driving.

I hadn’t gone all that far, but I’d been driving through Pictured Rocks National Park and stopping regularly. Lots of scenic views. Also lots of bugs. I saw one guy wearing a mosquito net hat — clearly the apparel of the experienced northern Michigan hiker!

[image error]Waterfalls and rushing streams!



[image error]Admiring the distant views — the deep blue in the background is the lake.



[image error]Admiring the close-up views — the forget-me-nots are an invasive species apparently, but they’re really beautiful.

After a quiet (and grumpy) rest day at Trout Lake, I got back on the road again on Thursday with relief, but no real destination in mind. It turned into a day of minor errands — Aldi and Walmart and gas — followed by a somewhat ridiculous, but rewarding persistence.

I only had one night to spend wherever I decided to stop, so there was no reason to look for someplace special. A parking lot would have made sense. Maybe a night in a motel, so I could actually have that really nice shower? I was so indecisive. But it stays light really late in Michigan so instead of stopping, I just kept looking. I rejected one campground — too hilly. I rejected a second campground — nice for tent campers, but a parking lot for a van. (But while I was in the parking lot, I ran the generator and cooked some InstantPot chicken and rice for dinner.) I got lost while looking for a third campground and missed it entirely. Apple Maps sent me in a ridiculous direction for the next campground and I wound up in a dead end dirt road with minimal room to turn around. I still didn’t find myself a nice Walmart for the night. I don’t know why I was so determined, but at that point, I’d been looking for someplace nice for so long that I wasn’t going to stop until I was happy. Or exhausted, I suppose.

Fortunately, happy came first. At about 7PM, I found myself at Wagner Lake Campground in the Huron-Manistee National Forests.

[image error]

Private, quiet, peaceful, beautiful. I could have stayed there for days (despite the mosquitoes, which were pervasive but not insane). Instead, I enjoyed a completely relaxing morning, and got back on the road around noon. For once, I knew exactly where I was headed — a weekend with friends that I hadn’t seen since college!

Bay Furnace Campground

[image error]The morning fog on the water, as seen from the back of my campsite

I failed to call my dad on Father’s Day, because I had no cell service. I feel like that was bad planning on my part, but by the time I realized that my phone was lying to me — that the 1 bar of Verizon service really meant responses like “message failed to send” and “call failed” — I’d already paid $40 for two nights at Bay Furnace Campground. And not just that, I’d gotten one of the four nicest sites, the ones on the lake with water views and their own tiny private beaches. I was not minded to walk away for the sake of an internet connection.  (Sorry, Dad. I hope you had a Happy Father’s Day!)

Even if I hadn’t gotten such a nice site, I would have loved this campground. All the sites are reasonably spacious, with good separation between them. I can see my neighbors — and actually overhear some of their conversations — but my site still feels private. I left the shades up to watch the night sky when I went to sleep last night, which I don’t always do, if it feels like people might be driving or walking by. 

Although speaking of night skies… Michigan is very far north. I know this not because I can read a map or know anything about American geography (although I actually can and do) but because it stays light ridiculously late and gets light ridiculously early. My instincts are to stay awake for a couple hours after it gets dark and then wake up with the sunrise. That’s not giving me nearly enough sleep in Michigan. If I lived in Alaska, I don’t think I’d get any sleep all summer long. 

[image error]The ducks didn’t seem to mind the cold.

Back to the campground — it’s dry camping, no electricity or water hook-ups, but there are bathrooms and a dump station and places to get fresh water. Also unexpected ruins and fog on the water in the morning. Also, I am fairly sure, forget-me-nots growing wild in the forest. Seriously, forget-me-nots and fog together make me feel like I’m living in L. M. Montgomery novel. 

The writing is still not going well (translation: not going at all), but Amazon finally gave the Kindle app a useful organizational tool: the ability to mark books as Read, and then filter by Unread and Read. I’ve been working my way through my Kindle library, finding the books that I downloaded on impulse, when they were on sale or free, and then never got around to reading. I currently have 302 unread books, which is probably enough to keep me reading for quite a while, although I suspect that plenty of them will eventually wind up in my DNF collection. I was surprised to discover, though, that of the 800+ books on my Kindle that I have already read (or tried to read), only 104 were in the DNF collection. I would have thought that number would be much higher because I give up on books easily these days. If my interest hasn’t clicked by the 10% mark, I move on to the next book. 

There are some exceptions, though, usually the ones that I think will be good for me in some way. The virtuous reading. Most of those are about writing, marketing, or self-publishing. The current one that I’m working on is about newsletters. It’s entertainingly written, the author has a great voice, and reading it makes me feel like Sisyphus. The fundamental concept is using your newsletter as a way to connect with people — you don’t want to simply inform people when you have a new book for sale because that’s asking them to buy something, instead you want to charm them and turn them into your friends. Be authentic, be real. Send kitten pictures! … So that they will then buy something from you.  

I get the concept. I even understand that if I ever hope to earn a real living at writing books, it’s part of the job. It doesn’t even make sense that I think of it as pretending to be a nice person, because my authentic self is, in fact, nice. But it feels so fake. I might have to pick one of you and write you an email every month and then send it to the rest of my mailing list as well. That might work better for me. Ha. 

[image error]The unexpected ruins: an iron furnace that burned down in the 1800s. Many, many pigeons make their homes on top, so in the early evening it was loud with cooing and twittering. The white spot is a pigeon flying off.

Moving on, I’m currently writing this on my phone while sitting outside, using a tiny Bluetooth keyboard and a lap-desk that I bought a year ago, and my newly beloved camping chair. I love this chair. It was so worth the quest. I’ve been thinking about a post — or maybe a FB post to the Travato group — about what I’ve learned in my almost three years of van living. There’s an industrial concept about the virtues of constant incremental optimization. It’s got a Japanese name — kaizen, maybe? Anyway, it applies to life in a van, too. Three years and I’m still discovering ways to be more comfortable, to make life easier or more pleasurable.  Being able to sit outside in the sunshine while I write is lovely. Lovely enough that I think I will now try to work on Fen for a while. Maybe I can break through my travel-inspired inertia and actually make some progress.  

Oh, but one final note about Michigan’s upper peninsula — it was 38 degrees this morning. 38! I should absolutely not have packed my winter clothes away when I left Arcata. 

Ontonagon County Park

[image error]The tiny silver speck in the background is Serenity. I’m not the only camper at this campground, but it’s a lot emptier than I expected it to be. Maybe that has something to do with the weather.

I am looking out my window at a beautiful, turbulent lake — white-capped waves hitting a sandy beach, distant hills so far away that they’re a deep blue line against the horizon. It’s gorgeous, but my faint hope of kayaking on it disappeared with the weather: according to my weather app, it’s currently 58 degrees outside, but I am quite sure they’re not taking the cold wind into account, because it feels a lot more like 48.

Z keeps trying to convince me that we should be outside, so we’ve been in and out — lots of beach walks, a couple of forest walks, some sitting in my comfy chair and admiring the view — but it’s cold enough that I keep retreating inside. If this were Florida, it would be mid-winter, probably February. Apparently, that’s what June in the upper peninsula of Michigan feels like.

But it’s a great view.

[image error]Sunset

(I don’t have much more to say about the campground than that: it’s $28/night for water, electric, and a fantastic view. The sites are close enough together that if it was crowded, I wouldn’t love it, but it’s reasonably empty for this time of year. But it’s camping literally on the beach, so, you know, not complaining.

Prentice Park

[image error]A cute little blackbird from North Dakota



[image error]A chirpy robin, also in North Dakota



[image error]A mysterious and very noisy brown bird. Maybe a sandpiper? In Wisconsin.



[image error]Not as great a view of the sandpiper, but a more interesting picture of it.



[image error]My campsite at Prentice Park

If I didn’t have a schedule to keep, I might have settled into Prentice Park in Ashland, WI, for weeks. I’m not sure how many sites it has, because most of them were tent sites, but there were 6 RV sites, nicely spaced, with lots of grass, trees, and paved driveways. Water, electricity, excellent walking paths, clean showers that didn’t require quarters, (although no control of the water temp), and friendly neighbors.

Paradise.

But I’ve understated the “water” part. I know I claimed not to be a water snob, and I’m really not, but Ashland has artesian wells. People apparently come from miles around to get water at the local beach. I had only the vaguest idea what an artesian well was, or why it mattered, but on my first morning at the campground, I set out to look for it. Turns out, it was all over the place. The park had at least half a dozen spigots in the ground with water free-flowing out of them. I had a strong desire to look for the off valve every time I saw one, because I’ve spent so long being careful about water. But there were no off valves, the water is just pouring forth from the ground. It felt like such abundance, such wealth from nature.

[image error]The artesian water. Cold, fresh, refreshing. I filled up all my water jugs.

I’ve understated the friendly neighbors, too. The showers require a combination code, so when I saw the campground host outside his camper, I went over to get my code. That led to tours of the van, conversations about van life and children, an invitation to a delicious jambalaya dinner, and eventually s’mores around their fire.

I really did debate staying at the campground for a few more days, especially because the hosts were out in the morning, so I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye. (And if you’re reading my blog, LaDonna or Sharon, it was so nice to meet you, thanks so much for your hospitality!) But I wanted to check out the Apostle Islands, as well as visit Pictured Rocks National Seashore. Plus the whole reason for hurrying across Montana was to be able to spend some time in the upper peninsula of Michigan, which people have been telling me about ever since I started traveling. And I do have a deadline — scheduled plans with friends and relatives at the end of June. So after two nights at Prentice Park, I got back on the road.

Mosquitoes in Minnesota

On Monday, I left the Michigan city park and headed to Grand Forks to pick up the produce I’d failed to get the day before. Unfortunately… well, I’ll just say I’m glad I don’t have to buy my vegetables in Grand Rapids regularly.

(Digression: I just rewrote the above paragraph five times — literally, five times, maybe six — trying to politely phrase “lousy, over-priced, boring.” Because why? Because I don’t want to hurt the feelings of the vegetables? Because someone who owns a grocery store in Grand Forks, North Dakota might someday read my blog and get offended? Because I don’t want to be rude? Gah, sometimes I annoy myself. More directly, the local grocery store in Grand Forks was so dismal that I wished I’d gone to Walmart instead. I don’t think I’ve ever made such a wish before, or even conceived of the notion that such a wish could be possible. There. Rude or not, that’s the truth of my Grand Forks vegetable shopping.)

Post my disappointing Grand Forks excursion, I headed to an Army Corps of Engineers campground in Minnesota. My favorites, as you know.

But, ah, not that one.

Maybe my post-headache blues had just left me in a critical mood, but Leech Lake Campground was crowded & confusing, with small sites and narrow roads. I was ready for a place with good showers, which Leech Lake might have had. But when I realized that I’d missed the 1-3 PM registration window by 2 minutes and instead of getting settled into a campsite right away would have to go back to the front office at 5PM to register, I decided I’d just keep driving.

I feel a little guilty about that, because one of the reasons I missed the registration window was that I was dumping my tanks. But only a little guilty, because the other reason was that I got caught behind a very, very big RV trying to back into a reasonably small site and had to sit on the road behind it for about twenty minutes, while the driver tried to navigate between the trees. Fun, fun. At least I wasn’t driving the big RV!

I decided to head to a county park about an hour farther east, but along the way, I passed a national forest campground, Mabel Lake, and swung in to take a look. It was glorious. Absolutely fantastic dry-camping. For $14, I had a huge site (#22), surrounded by trees, with a short trail that led down to an adorable tiny beach.

[image error]Zelda at the beach

I could see the water between the trees (and there were other sites that had real water views), but my site was surrounded by gorgeous green trees. There were trails leading into the forest, and it smelled incredible. I don’t have the faintest idea what kind of trees or plants they were that smelled so good but every breath felt fresh and clean and… hmm, like Irish Spring soap, actually. Whatever plant Irish Spring smells like, that would be the plant that was growing in that delightful national forest.

There was only one small problem. Actually, no, there were only about a million small problems. I like to remind myself when I run into bugs that they are the sign of a healthy ecosystem. That they are essential to the well-being of the planet. That as long as they’re not in my space (indoors), I should respect that I’m in their space. But, OMG, the mosquitoes were insane.

If they’d just been willing to stay outside, I might not have found them so oppressive, but it was impossible to open the door to the van for even the quickest second, without a flood of them pouring inside and going on the attack. And the thing about mosquitoes, to me, is that I don’t actually care that much if they bite me — it itches, so what? — but I HATE the sound of them. The high-pitched buzzing in your ear and around your face is so damn annoying.

Mabel Lake was so beautiful and I loved my site so much that on Monday evening, I thought I’d spend a few days there, appreciating the sounds of nature, enjoying solitude and peace. On Tuesday morning, after I walked Zelda while wearing a scarf wrapped around my head and face like a bee-keeper’s shroud, I packed up the van and headed out. Good-bye, Minnesota! Next time I will come equipped with some industrial strength mosquito repellent and maybe I will love you more.

[image error]My huge site

Michigan

I’m in Michigan!

Michigan, North Dakota, that is. I’d be both impressed and worried about myself if I’d actually managed to drive all the way to the state since my last post. In actual fact, I didn’t even make it to Minnesota, which was my vague goal when I started out.

I’d only been driving for an hour or so when my windshield started… I want to call it fractal-ing, but that’s probably meaningless to anyone who hasn’t had the experience. Medically, it’s described as an aura, which isn’t the right word at all in my opinion. But off on the left side of my vision, the windshield started sparkling and crumbling.

My first thought was, “How pretty.”

My second thought was, “Oh, shit.”

My third set of thoughts went something like, “Caffeine, check. Pain killers, check. Dark, quiet place to sleep off a migraine, um, not so much.”

The next few hours were not particularly fun. I’ll skip the boring details, but eventually I found myself at the city park in Michigan. It’s not exactly a campground, but there are four electric outlets in a row, where campers can plug in and stay the night. The cost is a “Free Will Offering,” which in my case was $10. It was early enough when I got here that I didn’t plug in right away, didn’t even decide to stay. I just lay down and closed my eyes and gave myself some quiet time. After about an hour of quiet, quiet time — as in, the park is completely empty, there are no other people here, it’s just me and Z and the birds and the trains — I got up, plugged in and settled in for the night.

Before I went to sleep, I packed everything up. I told myself that in the morning, I’d get on the road really early, drive to a grocery store in Grand Forks to buy the vegetables I didn’t manage to get yesterday, and then drive most of the way across Minnesota. When I actually did wake up, though, I didn’t know what my hurry had been about. Instead of scurrying out of here, I’m enjoying some leisurely coffee and a fully-charged computer. My head still hurts, but it’s the lingering, post-migraine pain, not the intense stabbing pain, so I can deal with that.

[image error]Last night’s sunset, during Z’s good-night stroll.

But North Dakota continues to impress. Last night’s sunset was beautiful, and today is a gorgeous, clear, sunny spring day with a cool breeze. I know it’s the time of year — I might even have liked South Dakota if I’d gone there in June instead of late July. (South Dakota wins for my least favorite state — the reason the Badlands are called Bad is because they are, and my reactions to South Dakota can best be summarized as 1) How soon can I get out of here? and 2) Thank God I was not a pioneer housewife, I would have fled back to Pennsylvania after the first week on the plains.)

But still, North Dakota in June is a remarkably lovely place. I’m going to be just a little sorry to say good-bye.

The Chair

[image error]The famous camping chair

I ought to try to find a link online somewhere, so that other people can also enjoy the wonders of my Costco camping chair, but I sorta think camping chairs are super personal. It’s the Goldilocks thing — I don’t want the low chair or the big chair or the chair with arm rests (although I do sort of miss the cupholder from my previous chair) — I just want the chair that’s sized exactly right for me. And this one is it. I spent a fair amount of time sitting in it on Friday and it really is comfortable, even for writing outside. Of course, computer screens are still challenging in outdoor light, so I doubt I’m going to start spending hours writing outside, but at least it’s an option now in a way that it wasn’t before.

Speaking of outside — I had a lovely relaxing Friday in Downstream Campground, in Riverdale, North Dakota. And then the weather changed. Oh, my gosh, did the weather change. I tried to view it as an opportunity to appreciate the Rumpl puffy blanket that I splurged on at REI in Seattle (after seeing how nice S’s was when we were traveling in Idaho and Oregon.) And I did appreciate the warmth, definitely. But I also gave in and turned the heat on, because 45 degrees, gray and damp, is just too cold. I actually woke up yesterday morning and thought, “It’s seriously time to head for Florida for the winter,” and then I remembered that it’s June. JUNE! There will be no heading to Florida for the winter until after I’ve managed to enjoy some summer somewhere.

Downstream Campground, though, is great. When I first got here, I bonded with the campground host over the niceness of Army Corps of Engineers campgrounds. She asked if I would be in the system, I said that ACOE campgrounds were my favorites and I would definitely be in the system, and she asked if I’d ever been to Arkansas. Yes! We exchanged stories about the delights of Arkansas ACOE campgrounds, and she told me to be sure to look for the nest of bald eagles — with babies — when I walked along the trails here. So far I haven’t spotted it, but the trails are great. I particularly appreciate the fact that they’re gravel, not just grass, because I’m still finding ticks and my tick paranoia is running rampant. I found one crawling on my neck yesterday — which obviously is better than finding one embedded in my neck — but still… ick. Just ick.

[image error]The back of the campsite on Friday, before the weather changed.

My site is nice — level, spacious, and with a water view, although only at the back. From the windows, I see other campers, but there’s plenty of room between the sites and lots of trees, so that’s okay. The showers were nice, too — clean, free, and with plenty of hot water. I’m glad I took one on Friday, when it was warm though, because campground showers when the temps are in the high 40s, low 50s are so not my favorite thing.

In writing news, I am still not figuring out how to write (fiction) while I’m on the road. I’m frustrated with myself, but beating myself up about it doesn’t actually help me get any writing done, just makes me unhappy, so I’m trying to be nicer to myself. But I’m binge-reading shapeshifter romances, which is largely a category of books I’ve avoided in the past. I like some of the urban paranormals that include shapeshifting — Patricia Briggs, Ilona Andrews — but the straight romances usually bore me. The library, however, has a plentiful supply of them, which makes for easy binge-reading. I’m going to say that I’ve read fifteen or so in the past week, by various authors, but I think the only one that I’m actually going to remember in a “oh, yeah, that was fun” sorta way was Shelly Laurenston’s Hot and Badgered. It was ridiculous but entertaining, but I think I mostly liked it because the hero is nice. Yep, nice. Not in a bland, inoffensive, lacking personality way, but in a stable, thoughtful, helpful and considerate way. I enjoyed him. Although not nearly enough to pay the ridiculous prices — $9.99 for an ebook? — that the publisher is asking for the other books in the series. Yay for the library.

But today is a driving day, so I should get moving. I actually don’t know where I’m headed — north, south? Eventually east, obviously, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got to start by deciding whether I want a fast major highway (to the south) or more interesting quieter roads (to the north). Will it be a long day, short day? If it weren’t for the fact that my sole remaining vegetable is a bag of shredded carrots, I might stay where I am for another day or two, but adventure awaits. Yep, the adventure of finding a grocery store and buying salad greens. Ha. My life is so exciting.

#49: North Dakota

Far West Fishing Access was so lovely that I decided I’d stay another night. That lasted until I took Z for a short walk and, upon our return to the van, found three ticks crawling on her. Yeah, no. No point in staying at a campsite where I’m completely unwilling to go outside. Instead, I packed up the van and headed out.

I’d been considering staying at a state park in eastern Montana, to support my vague goal of camping at a state park in every state, but another nonsensical achievement was beckoning: North Dakota, state #49 on my personal list of states visited.

I doubt anyone from North Dakota is reading my blog, so I will admit the truth: I had very low expectations of the state. I’ve never read or seen anything to make me think North Dakota is my kind of place, so I was driving through it pretty much to make that checkmark on my list. North Dakota, done.

North Dakota, beautiful? So unexpected! But I spent my first night in North Dakota at a camping spot outside Theodore Roosevelt National Park. I don’t think these pictures convey the beauty but the first one captures the solitude pretty well, and the second one is at least a glimpse of what it looked like.

[image error]Serenity, alone in the grasslands.



[image error]The grasslands and hills.

I spent a quiet night there, windows open, admiring the stars, but I knew I didn’t want to stay more than a night. The weather report, untrustworthy as it sometimes is, was saying temperatures into the high 80s, and with the van sitting in the direct sun, that would quickly become unbearable. So early on Thursday, we headed off to Theodore Roosevelt National Park.

[image error]Wildlife sighting!



[image error]Not quite as cute as a baby bison, but fun to watch.

I would have liked to take the scenic drive all the way around the park, but part of the road was closed. And it was too hot, even early in the day, to drag Z on any long walks. But we paused at the prairie dog town and watched the prairie dogs for a while, and strolled out to a scenic overlook and admired the view. And then we got back on the road and I made my way to an Army Corps of Engineers campground where I’ll stay through the weekend.

[image error]One last picture from Far West, which I would remember wistfully if I hadn’t found another dead tick in my bed this morning.

Far West Montana Fishing Access Site

A long while ago — back in 2016, I think — I realized that I was already forgetting places, and I made a pact with myself to write about every campground I stayed in, so that my blog would be a true record of my travels. That’s easier said than done when I’m moving every single day.

But I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t forget about the Far West Montana Fishing Access Site even if I didn’t write about it. For starters, it’s seriously pretty.

[image error]Z, taking me on a walk through the wildflowers.

It was also completely deserted when I arrived here on Monday. As in, I was the one and only person in the entire campground.

It’s also free, but not the typical “public land that you can park on” free — there are clearly marked campsites, with fire rings and picnic tables. Also, in my case, a nice view of the water. I think there are only two sites that actually open onto the water, but since I was alone, I felt no hesitation in taking one of them.

It’s also seriously tick-infested. Ugh. Every campground has a good news/bad news situation, and the ticks are definitely the bad news for this one. They’re making me totally paranoid. I’m being careful and I’ve still found five in the van. Fortunately, Z’s on a good tick prevention treatment, which I know, because one of the ticks was already dead. That’s my favorite kind of tick, personally. I also haven’t yet encountered my second-to-least favorite sort of tick, the one already embedded in my skin, or my least-favorite tick, the one that gives me Lyme disease or some other horrible tick-borne illness. At least I’m assuming on the latter, since I haven’t run into the former. Either way, ticks. Ick.

Before I knew about the ticks, though, I had a delightful Tuesday morning, spent sitting outside, in my brand-new camping chair. Yes, I found the camping chair! On Monday, I left Wyoming and headed toward North Dakota. Around noon, I found myself in Billings and despite knowing that it was a pointless waste of time, I made my way to CostCo. I told myself that they weren’t going to have the chair, but I could still get cheap gas and maybe some more of the really good cherries that I’d found in Bozeman. As it happened, the cherries were too expensive, I didn’t really need gas yet, but they had the chair! I was so pleased that I bought two of them, so the next time I have a guest in the van, I’ll even be able to offer my guest a comfortable seat. And it really was comfortable — because there are no arm rests, I even managed to write outside for a while.

Again before the ticks, I liked my free campsite so much that I decided to give myself a rest day, so I spent all of Tuesday enjoying my empty campground and my water view. I wrote a little, but mostly read books and made myself some delicious meals (spicy pasta with weird but tasty soybean noodles for one) and puttered around the van. I enjoyed it so much that I debated spending another day, but after the ticks, I decided I’d rather move on. I’m not sure I can escape from ticks, really, and Montana ticks don’t carry Lyme disease, so it’s not like I’m safer from the scary things by heading into the midwest where the ticks do carry Lyme. Still, I lost my enthusiasm for enjoying the grass when I found ticks in my bed.

But I woke up on Wednesday to unexpected thunderstorms.

[image error]Rain in the distance, but it was still pretty

My weather app still says it’s going to be a beautiful day, but it was thundering and lightning at that very moment. Since I didn’t want to drive in it, I decided to run the generator, charge up my computer, and write a blog post instead. And now that the blog post is done, I should probably make some decisions. Stay or go? Read another book or pack up the van? Work on Fen or head into my 49th state? Decisions, decisions…