Tuesday, October 13, 2020

Monday at Belton Lake (August 31)

 Monday was when I began to realize that this was "the trip of how many things I can screw up." First, I planned it for weekdays because there were absolutely no weekends free and I was having to plan this around the Arkansas trip (coming up in early September)--which I, also, planned. Although technically, Bob and Greg planned the trip, but I planned for us to go.

Then Edward found out he had to work overnights both Monday and Tuesday. So we couldn't see him again until Wednesday. First bad decision--to plan a trip on days where Edward would be working. I'd known he'd have to work all the days we were there, but the overnights were unexpected. And also, when choosing the dates, I got the date of my customer demo for my contracting job confused. I thought it was Friday because I thought Friday was the 31st. But no--Monday was the 31st. So it was today.
 

But that would be okay because the recreation.gov website clearly stated that the campground had free wifi for campers, located in the activity room next to the washer-dryer room.  And most likely their wifi would be better than what I have at home. So I told my boss I'd do the demo from the campsite, and on Monday morning I took the truck over to ask the gate lady for the code.

No code. Their router had been knocked out by a storm two months ago and not replaced. The website has not been updated. Wonder why.

So the meeting took place on time, with me talking and my boss showing the GUI, and I think I did a decent job of pretending to the customers that we'd intended it that way all along. We got through the material in 50 minutes with very few embarrassing silences, but I don't think the customers were especially impressed.

Next disaster--something that I'd almost like to skip writing down so I can forget it forever--after talking to the gatekeeper, in my distraction and annoyance as I backed up the truck up to leave, I backed into the gate. Technically, into the metal box that housed the gate's mechanism. It still worked, but it's pushed all wonky-sided. I was humiliated and apologetic, but she took it in stride and didn't blame me.


After the meeting Ed and I went fishing, where I proceeded to get hung up on the underbrush not once but twice, needing to replace my tackle each time. I did a lousy job of this, without using my glasses, and it took a short forever. I caught two or three small crappie and a lovely little yellow (sand?) bass. But Ed caught this great big huge bass that fought like a trouper:


We were only out about two-and-a-half hours, but we called it a day. After all, it was 102 degrees out there. Nobody in their right mind would go camping in weather like that, except maybe the older gentleman next door to us. He had a big, beautiful German Shepherd and a tiny black abomination of some sort. I never saw anyone else with him and I only saw him twice, giving the dogs a very short walk. My theories included (a) wife dead but he's pretending she'd alive, (b) wife sick with Covid and quarantined in the RV, (c) absurdly young trophy wife who hates camping and won't venture away from her internet.

Anyone else who went camping in this sort of weather would have the good sense to stay inside in the air conditioning. Like the people a couple of sites up the hill, who have what has to be a custom stairway installation on the entrance to their RV. Or the mysterious pair of guys at the site below us (between us and the water, on the downhill), who parked a small trailer and pickup at the site and a jeep with a small boat on the grass right beside the parking area. I'm surprised no one spoke to them about that. The trailer was not a camping trailer, either--it was the kind you haul motorcycles or stuff in.

I assume they were out in the boat when we arrived, then brought it in sometime after we went to bed and--I guess--slept in the trailer. None of my business anyway, just odd. They left while we were out in the boat. But their site was soon full again--

When we were bringing the boat in we noticed a couple of young women unloading coolers and boxes from a small car onto the picnic table, but we had to wonder why they parked so far away. The car was all the way over in the overflow parking, but the driveway for a motorhome was completely empty.

We brought in the boat, drove it around the one-way camping loop, and were just getting ready to back it into place when a pop-up trailer came up behind us. How logical is the universe? A campground that is three-quarters empty, and just when we get ready to do a delicate parking maneuver, people come up and have to wait on us.

Ed was too polite--he drove on around the loop again and let them get in front. And then the mystery of the small car was revealed--that was the spot they were parking the trailer at.

So we had neighbors on both sides, but the place still felt delightfully empty. And it was time to walk dogs. Molly got a nice bath and I got to enjoy some scenery.

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

And leave my mark on the world.






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