“The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.”
~ Robert Frost
I moved Sunday to Kaibab Lake Campground. It looked great on paper. In fact, it LOOKED great as I entered and found my spot on Loop B. I was excited to spend a few days in a paved campsite, until I pulled in and found that the particular spot I’d paid for was not at all level. It took quite a bit of maneuvering around that 15’ x 30’ spot to get almost level and then a lot of backing up and moving forward with my levelers in place to finally get settled. Then I realized that I was going to be mostly in shade. That was nice when I was inside the van. It kept it sort of cool, but the splotchy sunlight outside the van meant moving my solar suitcase panels every hour to try to collect enough sun to re-charge my batteries, which were already a bit depleted from the prior days of rain.
I couldn’t wait to get down to the lake, which was the main reason I booked this site. The luxury of getting in a lake, cooling off, and getting Cosmo rinsed from all the dust he’d collected in Coconino National Forest was beckoning. Then we got to the lake. It was extremely low and very muddy. It was surrounded by a few feet of mud on all sides making actually getting into the lake very messy. I got in anyway, to mid-calf and Cosmo got in until the water almost touched his belly. I looked over at the “floating fishing pier” which was not floating.
The water had receded so much that the end of the pier that was supposed to float was lying on the ground. We walked back to the van and re-adjusted the solar panels to be in the sun.
The campground was occupied mostly by old people (Yes. Many even older than *I* am.) Few ever left their big rigs. I always wonder why people would drive somewhere, pay to park, and never leave their giant RV. They could have just stayed in their driveway and had the same experience. There were few amenities. No electrical or water hookups. There were pit toilets, which I don’t use, and there were a few spots where you could fill water jugs but not hook up to fill your fresh-water tank. Most of my neighbors ran their generators until the quiet hours began at 10:00 p.m. and they restarted promptly at 6:00 a.m. If you’ve ever been awakened at 6:01 by a neighbor mowing their lawn, you know exactly what I was hearing. There were copious dumpsters, which I find to be a luxury since I collect trash and garbage in grocery store plastic bags. Being able to tie them up and get them out of my van on a daily basis was quite nice. Otherwise, it was no different than staying on BLM land over a holiday weekend. By Wednesday morning I couldn’t wait to leave.
I packed up and headed north to Kaibab National Forest, just a couple miles south of the southern rim of Grand Canyon National Park. I drove a mile in on a gravel road and then took one of the side roads deeper into the forest. I pulled off as the road got really bad and Cosmo and I explored on foot to see if there a) was actually a good spot down that bad road and b) could we get there in the van. The answer to both was “yes,” so I put it in first gear and drove at about 3 m.p.h. until we got 50 feet farther into the woods and pulled into a relatively level and very bright spot. I plugged in my external solar panels, and I swear I heard them let out a huge sigh of relief. I was once again charging at 450 watts. The spot was very nice.
The rest of the day not one vehicle passed on the main road and we did not see another human. It was bliss.
We walked a few times. It was hot AF in the van, so moving to the shade outside helped. When night fell, it was darker outside than I can ever remember experiencing. I heard several noises outside and Cosmo started barking a couple of times. For the first time in several years, I locked the van doors before going to sleep. I recalled my friend Leo talking about “the skin walkers” and how he doesn’t go out after dark because of them. I don’t believe in skin walkers, but hey…Pascal’s wager. 😊
Lessons From The Road: Now being just a little over a mile from Grand Canyon National Park, I surely must go into the park before turning around and heading south for the winter, right? I was in the park my first year on the road. I tried to get a campsite, but they were booked solid for months in advance. Just on a whim, I went to Recreation.gov yesterday and found that there are TONS of open campsites inside the park, and with my America The Beautiful Senior Pass, I can book one for only $15 per night. I’m seriously considering it, even though my recent campground experience reminded me that I do not like campgrounds.
The last time I went to GCNP was the tail end of covid. Everyone was masked and the park was crowded. I parked at the Visitor Center Parking Lot and when I exited the van, I saw signs saying “No pets allowed on trails.” Well, that put a damper on my plan to spend the day there. I left Cosmo in the van and headed to the rim to take some pictures. It was impossible to get just ONE photo of the Grand Canyon without a tourist in the shot. 98% of the people were Asian, and they were frantically elbowing each other to get up to a spot closer to the edge of the canyon to try to take a photo. I went to the snack bar and saw cappuccino on the menu above the counter. I wanted one. Then I saw many flavors of ice cream and couldn’t decide between caffein and sugar. It was a moot point because when I got to the counter, all they had was coffee (which was bubbling in a pot that looked like it had been there since Carter was president) or hot water. I just turned around and went back to the van and left the park.
So I’m wondering why I feel compelled to go to a tourist trap. Would I go to Paris and not make a point of seeing the Eiffel Tower? I’m wondering why I’d feel compelled to do so. Because it is there? Wouldn’t I much prefer to go have a coffee and croissant in a tiny hole-in-the-wall French café? Likewise, after my unpleasant experience with “city folk campers” do I really want to reserve (and pay for) a spot with no amenities and campers on either side of me so close I can hear them snore? Logic is telling me there is not much there that I would enjoy, and yet for whatever reason, I’m leaning toward going in. Is it peer pressure? Would I be this close and tell everyone I know that I had no interest in actually seeing the Grand Canyon? I don’t know the answer yet. Stay tuned.