Friday at Brooken Cove

Lake Eufala, September 18

The park filled up today and that sucked royally. Trucks were parked in the grass, and even on the street, although there were two completely empty parking lots. Apparently Oklahoma people are too lazy to walk twenty feet to a parking space. It got noisy, too. I didn't care to sit outside and take my breakfast coffee because the two ladies at the site behind us were talking and I'd have to listen to every word. Now that the weather has cooled down (a tad--it's sweater weather in the mornings) our air conditioner fan is turning off, and every time it does I hear conversation outside. It's not super objectionable, and there's no loud music blaring, but still it's not the reason I leave my comfortable home and drive three hours.

We went fishing in the afternoon, but we weren't expecting to stay long. The batteries that run the trolling motor were lapsing. At first Ed suspected a single battery was at fault, but as the time went on he began to wonder if it was the charger. No way to know until we got them home and tested them, so we used it for a while and then gave up.  We had no luck fishing, anyway.The day started off calm but got windier and windier. But I did see Canada Geese, seven of them! Is it migration time yet, or did they stick here all summer?

I took Molly for a jog to the other campground, along the road and next to a lovely forest:

 

 

 

 

 

and gave her a chance to smell out the weird hills (molehills?) all over the place.

Then I spent the rest of the afternoon planning out our drive for the next day and learning about the area in which we would be traveling. Northeastern Oklahoma includes the edges and foothills of the Ozark Mountains that make up most of the northern half of Arkansas. Across the state line in Arkansas, this section of the Ozark Plateau is know as the Boston Mountains, and they are the highest and most rugged section of the Ozarks. If we'd gone camping in Devil's Den State Park, we'd have been right in the middle of them.

Geologically, the Boston plateau has capping rocks of Pennsylvanian age with the oldest rocks representing stream deposits flowing off the Ouachita Mountains into an ocean while the younger rocks are mostly deltaic. (formed by a river delta). The Ouachita Mountains run farther south, from the middle of Arkansas to MacAlester, Oklahoma. In Oklahoma these Pennsylvanian sandstones and shales are generally referred to as the Crookson Hills.

The Arkansas River borders the Ozark Plateau to the west, then turns east and slices a large valley across Arkansas to the Mississippi River.  The river valley separates the Ozarks from the Ouachitas,<quote> an area of folded ridges and valleys that is a geologist’s (and sightseer’s) paradise.  Clastic Paleozoic rocks predominant, (deposition in a shallow marine environment, the continental shelf), as opposed to limey rocks in the Ozark Mountains.  During most of the Paleozoic the area which is now the Ouachitas was a deep offshore abyssal plain, perhaps more than 3000 feet below sea level (Arkansas Geological Survey, 2012).  But then the “big bump” came along as South America was pushed “north” and collided with Laurentia.
https://csmsgeologypost.blogspot.com/2014/07/oklahoma-geology-east.html

The Canadian River, which flows pretty much all the way across Oklahoma from New Mexico and Colorado (and cuts through the Texas panhandle), joins the Arkansas River and continues East after a sad stop at the Robert S. Kerr Reservoir near the Arkansas border.

And that was where we'd be headed next day.

Thursday at Brooken Cove on Lake Eufala

(September 17)

We moved camp and dumped. It seemed to take a surprisingly long time--we weren't done until 11-ish. But it's true we cooked breakfast, did dishes, and tidied up the Mammoth interior before moving.

The new site sucks. I'd had to book two different sites because the first one, which was pretty much perfect, had been booked up for the weekends for pretty much forever. Now I know why.

After moving, the dogs and I took a walk around our new camping "loop". There was a road around the campsites and a chain-link fence between the road and the water. The bank looked like it was prone to caving in--big gray rocks had been piled up and held together with screen wire.  A little further along, past the rocks, we found a boat tie-up with a short sidewalk to it. And just past that was a muddy spot where the dogs and I waded out so they could get a drink and bath.

Wading in flip flops is never a great idea. I was soon stuck firm, and when I trid to pull up my feet the flip flops insisted on staying behind. They were likely to tear up if I forced them, so I leaned over and fished them out of the water, then tossed them up on the muddy shore. When Zack and Molly finished their swims we went back to camp.

...where I immediately noticed I'd lost my reading glasses. I went with Molly, walking quickly, to retrace my steps. I was just giving up when I found them in the mud, right at the edge of the place I'd gotten stuck and leaned over. Woo-hoo!

After that bit of excitement, we loaded the dogs into the truck and went to check out four campgrounds on Lake Eufala. Although they were all on the same side of the same lake, our total drive was close to 2-1/2 hours. I'm guessing--I didn't time it.  It was about 50 minutes to the first, and from there 20 to the second/third, then 20 to the fourth and another 30 minutes back to our Mammoth home. Eufaula is a big lake.

Lake Eufaula State Park was the only one we really liked, and only a few of the campsites there were acceptable. In a couple of cases, I'd venture to say "vey acceptable." But the other campgrounds were either closed in winter (after October 31), too small, too hilly to get a decent sized RV into, or just plain old unappealing.

The last place we looked--Arrowhead State Park--had a brand new campsite that was gorgeous. Sites were a little too close together, but they were new, full hookup, and the grounds were groomed like a golf course. Only problem? There was no lake. What's the point of camping on a lake if you can't see the lake? Or at least least, walk a few yards to a spot where you can see it. These beautiful campsites were in a clearing in the middle of deep woods and the closest thing any of them had to a view was the next-door-neighbor's dirty underwear spread out on a lounge chair.

We'd rather camp in a run-down park with holes in the pavement and a shared water hookup-- so long as we have a beautiful view.

One thing we learned from a chatty, delightful lady working the gate to one of the Corp. of Engineers' campgrounds--all of the Corp. parks in Oklahoma have shared water hookups. It's expected that campers use a Y-splitter or even a three-way splitter, since in many cases it's three sites that share a water hookup. She told us that the only problems they've had is when people who didn't know they were sharing and accidentally turned off the water for everyone.

It was a good drive with little adventure, but I came away feeling slightly disappointed. I'd thought we'd find all kinds of great camping spots with rocky shores, towering pines, and scenic views. But...not so much.

Later I made the additional observations on the campground we were occupying, and they were all bad. Although it was only Thursday, it was starting to fill up. The people directly behind us (consider the lake as the front) had two tables set up outside and no fewer than 11 chairs around the tables. We thought we were in for trouble after dark, for sure.

But it turned out that the chairs were for three or four kids who needed to sit down and do their homework after school (or so I presumed.) And that's what they did. I'm curious to see if they leave again tomorrow or just hang out and play. I can think of worse places to be stuck during Covid-related school shutdowns.

I'm just speculating about all of this, of course. Who knows what they're up to. maybe I'll talk to the nice woman in charge tomorrow and see,
'
They also have a yappy little dog that they put outside in a cage. Luckiily Molly is ignoring it.  Later--at about 8:30--a big fifth wheel came backign into the spot right next to us. We still have our lake view, but the shortcut across the grass to our truck parking area is now blocked. Ed had an extension cord run across there to charge the boat, and they politely asked him to move it. Later, when they were done, they knocked on our door to tell us we could put it back. Very nice of them--probably hoping to get a boat of their own some day.

I tried to take Molly for a long, pre-supper walk and got about halfway to the other campground when I was passed by a truck going way too fast. He went down the road a little ways and then came back and passed me again. By then I was feeling totally paranoid--it was nearing sunset and there were absolutely no other cars on the road. When he passed me a third time, I had my phone up to my mouth pretending to talk and getting ready to speed dial Ed. Either that did the trick, or else he was simply lost and had no interest whatsoever in harassing me.  Soon I saw a bicyclist up ahead and shortly thereafter was passed by a maintenance man in a golf cart, so I felt reassured. But still, there will be no long, pleasant walks in the dark like the one we had the night before.

Day Two on Lake Eufala

 (Wednesday 16 September 2020)

Fishing on the first day was a bit of a bummer. The minnows were easily procured, although we had a peculiar choice between goldfish, bass or crappie. I thought commercial minnows were always "shiners", whatever that means, and definitely not goldfish which aren't even a native species.

Everything went fine as far as getting ready and  launching the boat. But there weren't any fish!

I caught one small crappie, probably under ten inches. We saw a lot of small fish but not really any big ones.  And we did a lot of searching around for structure, like submerged trees or old tree trunks, but didn't easily find it. The water was very shallow at first but in the old creek bed it went down to 51 feet, but even then it was very warm--eighty or more degrees.

A lot of gulls were finding fish. Or maybe not "a lot" but a handful. I probably saw about twenty in the two or three hours we were out. And a couple of cormorants. Interesting thing about cormorants and gulls--when the boat is motoring past them, cormorants fly away. But the gulls just stay put and let the boat go on by.

Over by the boat ramp there was a Great Egret and a Great Blue Heron that seemed to stick together. Could I be wrong about the egret--could it be a a white morph of the Great Blue? No--the bird book doesn't think so. I think the two just liked to hang out together.

And I saw an odd cormorant swimming low in the water...could have been an Anhinga. But I'm not going to count it..that sort of thing can fool you if the water is choppy.

Eastern Kingbird by water's edge and I heard and saw a couple of warblers, but in fall, no telling what type of warblers they could be. Another time.

After the fishing I enjoyed a late lunch and walked the dogs. Sadly, the weather was hot enough that my walk--at the speed of elderly, arthritic Zack--was very unpleasant. There didn't seem to be a breath of air stirring.  While wandering around the campsites I tried to make note of any that we might like to try again. I found exactly one--plus, of course, the one we were in. Almost all of the campsites shared a water hookup in pairs, and some of them are a trio. The campground is so nearly empty that nobody is camped right next to anyone else, so the shared water hookup was not an issue. But down in the lower-numbered sites I saw what I'd been wondering about--a pair of camper sharing a single faucet with a splitter. So we'll bring a splitter in future just in case this sort of thing happens to us.

I was really confused, because I hadn't noticed anything on the web site about shared water hookups. Most likely they considered that water at the site is water even if it does have to be shared with the site next door. (Later: checked it. The reservations website doesn't mention it. Just says "water hookup.")

After our joint walk I did the dishes and took Molly on a solo, faster walk. A north wind had begun to blow, or should I say a brisk breeze, and it felt much better at first. But up the hill away from the water you could barely feel the breeze and it was miserable.

There were no birds to speak of, but I planned to take a long, morning bird walk on the morrow, taking along just one dog. (Or maybe none!) To see if I could do better.

Birds for the day: 7 Canada geese. Weird warblers. Scissortails. Mourning Doves. Blue jays. Carolina Wren. Bah.

Mammoth Tackles the Reality of Lake Eufala

 Brooken Cove COE Campground, Sep 15-20, 2020
 

                                   “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such 

                                            times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to 

                                                  decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

                                                                                                            -J.R.R. Tolkien

For hundreds of years, or at least, ever since Ed and I got married, we've been making a twice-annual trip up through Oklahoma. His parents live in the northwest corner of Arkansas and the quickest way to get to their house is to go north on US-75 which becomes US-69 and then runs into I-40 East bound. At Alma, Arkansas, we head directly north into the Ozark Mountains. We typically go to see them twice a year, sometimes more often and recently much less. (Corona virus)

And for all those years, we've been driving across Lake Eufala. Multiple times, because the road crosses it at two or three places. Each time we've wondered what it would be to camp and fish in such a big, beautiful lake. Therefore the purpose of this trip: to find out.

There was a hideous amount of road construction on US-69 north through Oklahoma. It seemed like more than half of the time we were squeezing along barrels or walls or inching through tiny lanes without any shoulder. It didn't seem to slow us down one bit, but then this was a Tuesday, in the afternoon between twelve and three.

For the most of the drive, I keep thinking of my lost girl. I'd taken this drive with her, many times as a family, but only once with just the two of us. She kept me entertained the whole way with music on her laptop and conversation, plus one serious discussion about the route. For fun I asked her which way to turn when we got to the highway 16 intersection. She was sure it was left; I knew it was right but let her stew over the decision for a while. Only when we got to St. Paul did she admit that I had been right, after all. I never got to make the trip with her driving, but that's no matter. There are enough sad memories in the one trip to last me the rest of my life.

Later, in the night, the grating of cicadas reminded me of home long ago and I wondered what my mom and dad would have thought of this place. I know they'd have loved it, and I equally know that Dad would have a line in the water as soon as we arrived, if his arthritis had permitted it. It would have been indescribably great to have them.

Anyway, back to the trip. You could easily tell when we weren't in Texas anymore--the trees became a whole lot bigger and the land around the lake was bumpy in the distance--not the ironing board flat of Texas lakes, but a suggestion of hills. We ended up a little north of the Ouachita Mountains around MacAlester, but we were far enough east to be within spitting range of the Ozarks. I think. (Will check it later)

We'd hardly been parked long enough to catch our breaths when a brilliant red bird hopped in and around the cottonwood (sycamore?) tree by our campsite. My reflex brain said cardinal and looked away, but my birdwatching brain looked back. It wasn't the tiniest little bit a cardinal--it was a Summer Tanager!!!  Haven't seen one of those in a long while.

There was an assortment of little birds by the water, and a trio of bluebirds appeared to be taking a bath--in the lake. That's a new one on me. One extremely annoying little sparrow-like bird totally eluded my eye. but those sightings showed me easily--it's a splendid place for birds!  I might finally see a Hairy Woodpecker. And maybe it's late enough in the year for a migrating warbler or two.

As to the campsite, I DEFINITELY need to write a review on campgroundreviews.com. The only one they had was very negative--they wrote of foot-high grasses, lack of signage and poorly marked campsites, and inconvenient water hookups.  Here's what I will say:

There are two camping areas--one great; one horrible. They're about a half mile apart on a public highway.
The first one, sites 1 through 62, is gorgeous. There are several loops, all cleared, mowed, and weeded under big, shady trees. Most sites have water views and some are right on the water. Plenty of space all around; extremely clean and tidy. There's even a volleyball net, small soccer field, and horseshoe pits. The boat ramp is small but adequate; courtesy dock close by. Bathrooms are old but clean. Very quiet and peaceful.
Some of the the asphalt is showing its age with breaks at the edges and a few scary dips like the one on the driveway to our site. But we took it slowly and had no problem. Sites are all different lengths and there isn't a huge amount of extra parking. Our site, and many others, was very unlevel front to back. We were able to level our 32-foot RV using a couple of chunks of 4x8 board we carry along, but without that we'd have been tilty.
Some sites have 30-amp and some 50; that and the site lengths are clearly stated on the reservation page.
A couple of sites have their own water hookup (ours did) but you might need a little extra hose, 15' for ours.  But most sites share water with one or two neighbors. Apparently that's normal in Oklahoma COE parks, so bring a splitter. The reservation page does not tell that.
The other camping area, sites 63 through 75, was newer--covered picnic tables, 50-amp, private water hookups--but it was boring and flat with only a few small trees. The RV sites were too close together and angled such that most had no view other than their neighbor's trailer. They did have covered picnic tables and most had their own water hookup. If you want a place to go have a party with twenty of your friends on a Friday night, you'll be happy here. Several people ignored all the empty, convenient parking spots and left their trucks on the road. Luckily no one was playing loud music except our immediate neighbors--it could have been worse. But it was still noisy and unpleasant.

 

Cure for the "very unlevel front to back" issue: 

Birding for the rest of the day turned up a decent list, but not as great as I'd hoped. I saw: Summer Tanager, White-breasted Nuthatch, Great Egret, Great Blue, Ring-billed gulls, Eastern Bluebirds, Downy Woodpecker, Red-headed woodpecker, and Osprey.

Hooked on a series...and it's a long one

Smoky Mountain Tracks, Rapid Fire, and Gun Shy 

Raine Stockton dog mysteries #1-3

by Donna Ball

Everything you might want in a K-9 mystery and more. Edge of the seat action. Endearingly imperfect dogs. A mystery plot that is believable and twisty. Characters you actually care about. Humor.

A mystery this good it hurts to put down. From about page...oh...one, I was hooked and determined to get to the end. Missing children have a way of doing that, not to mention search and rescue dogs and their owners with a certain snappy attitude that you can't help but like. I'm looking forward to the rest of them.

I have only one quibble: some of them are kind of short. If they could only be three times as long!

Rogers & Hammerstein galore

Something Wonderful
Rodgers and Hammerstein's Broadway Revolution
by Todd S. Purdum

Split personality book. First half was really something wonderful--after a short biography of each man, it goes into fascinating detail about their first ventures and how groundbreaking the musical Oklahoma was for the time. After that they undertook one called Carousel, which apparently didn't stand the test of time in popular imagination because I'd never heard of it.

But the second half of the book lost its appeal--it seemed to just drone on and on with bare facts of their lives, interesting facts and interesting lives, but nothing to make a good reading experience.

However, it did inspire me to listen to the songs from some of their musicals I hadn't heard much from--Oklahoma!, Annie Get Your Gun, and the King And I. Must better music than I'd expected.

Audiobook good enough to make me jog farther

Treasure of Darkness

by S. W. Hubbard


For all her faults, Ms. Hubbard pulls me in on the first page and keeps me in anxious suspense throughout. I don't like the way her heroine endlessly repeats the obvious, agonizing over her every thought. But that gets better as the book goes on and toward the end, I was barely noticing it. but I do love her characterizations, her very real people with uniquely interesting perspectives, and her main character, an estate sale organizer. Her previous book, Another Man's Treasure is a treasure--read it.

She left a plot line hanging that's I'd really hoped to see wrapped up neatly, Possibly she's going to revisit it in the next book?  I sure hope so. I can't explain it here, but I will only say that it was so very true to life and so very infuriating, that I found myself listening to the narrative with clenched fists, boiling in rage. I don't like that feeling--

But it took a really good writer to make me have it.

No more of these

 Staging Wars
by Grace Topping

This was the second in the Laura Bishop mystery series, and I think it will have to be the last for me. I want to like cozy mysteries--I do like cozy mysteries, but this one was so shallow and light and cutesey and quick...I dunno. The only part I really enjoyed was near the end when the heroine had to extract herself from a peculiar situation, shall I say. That was fun to read, but it didn't carry the whole book.

Her little trick to make this cozy series unique is placing a short "home staging" trick at the start of each chapter. In the first book, this was amusing and the tricks were carefully chosen to foreshadow the action of the ensuing pages. But this time, I couldn't see the connections at all and they were boring, like those ever-so-obvious home organization hints in mass-produced women's magazines. Hang a hook by the garage door to keep your car keys at hand.

Boring characters and absurd situations and blah. I give up.

Just a quick little YA, but enjoyable

 Finding Frances
by Kelly Vincent

Enjoyed this absolutely. Be warned--it gets a little scary at points. But that was necessary for the story she was telling--a girl is growing up and beginning to reach the rebellion age. Her mother has kept in near-isolation for all of her growing up years--she's schooled at home, discouraged from going outside, has no relatives. The story is that they all died in a car crash from which only she and her mother survived.

She decides to go to public high school in order to run on the cross country team and try for an athletic scholarship to college. I'm not sure if that's possible but it made the plot work. And then things happen.

I wanted to read more about her running but that's not where the story went. Did the author try to put that in but have it trimmed out by an editor? If it had been there, with feelings, that would have turned this from a 4-star book into a 4.5. But never mind. I enjoyed it a lot and would have enjoyed it even more when I was younger.

Thursday, Leaving Belton Lake

(September 3)

Raining again this morning. I snoozed twice and got out of bed only after the RV started rocking. Super strong wind, I thought--what kind of a day were we in for?

But when I got up it was perfectly calm except for the raindrops peppering down. The rocking was due to Ed walking on the roof to take down the satellite dish. The dogs got their walk, in the rain, and I went inside to start shutting down and packing up.

Before we could leave, we had to drop off Edward's spare clothes. He'd been thinking he'd get to come back for them, but that was not to be. I took advantage of our necessary trip to town (Belton) to skip fixing breakfast and grab McDonald's instead. It was good and greasy, but not worth the trouble. Yet I expect I'll do the exact same thing again next time the opportunity arises.

The rain had morphed from intermittent/heavy to intermittent/light by the time we left, at 11:25. We did a quick fillup at Buc'ees in North Temple, then the usual route through Corsicana and up I-45 to 635/30/190 loop around Dallas. We arrived at 2:59.

Interesting point: we were unloaded and re-hooked by 4:07. That cut seven or eight minutes our normal time of 45 minutes. Not bad.

NOTES:
1. Must find a route around Corsicana.
2. We didn't see a single roadrunner. Last time there were several sightings. but I guess it could have been a single individual accounting for them all.
3. Double, triple, and quadruple check that google maps isn't routing you on little one-lane road shortcuts. It's not necessary even if google maps does think it saves two minutes.
4. Fajitas make an easy camping supper if you marinade the meat and cut up all the veggies in advance. I even made a rub for the shrimp in advance, so all I had to do was peel it and shake it in the rub. But use less salt next time.
5. Always hook up the hummingbird feeder even if you don't see any flowers anywhere. Drat it.

Wednesday on Belton Lake (September 2)

Mammoth the rainmaker had done her magic again. The lightning show was starting in the north when I went to bed. Luckily it wasn't ground-to-cloud lightning, but it was a lot of lighting. I woke up after a while and it was raining, then again at 3am, then again some number of times. I failed to get up when the alarm went off. I can get motivated to get up early, but on a rainy camping morning when I have to walk dogs, no.

Eventually I did my duty. It continued to rain pretty much all the time until noon-ish before it finally turned into a spotty drizzle. Carrying my raincoat, I took Molly for a medium-long walk over to the Turkey Roost campground; it drizzled on us halfway, then stopped again.  Here's the lake looking all gloomy.

 But at least we saw a Ladder-backed Woodpecker:

Then, in the late afternoon, we went out to walk alongside the cliffs one last time. In between walks I tried and failed to get a picture of a canyon wren. I know there's one living right behind us, in the cliffs on which our campsite is perched, but every time I see him he's just on the verge of darting over the edge or else he's already darted over and is disappearing.

On the other hand, a yellow warbler stayed in the small oak tree by Mammoth all afternoon. I don't know what he was eating, but he was amazingly busy at it. For a long time I thought it was a Prothonotary Warbler, but after about a hundred good looks at him I decided yellow. For one thing, there was absolutely no white under the tail and the wings were decidedly NOT blue.

 

 

Molly and I saw turkeys on both of our walks. On the first, only two, but on the second, there were about four and I think I saw some youngsters. But they skulked back into the 'woods' before I could get a good look.

Also Chickadees, Titmice, Blue Jays, millions of vultures of both species, Killdeer, Great Egret, Great Blue Heron, and a Ladder-backed Woodpecker! That might be a first for me.
Here's the Bewick's wren:

Plus a very odd thing--as I was lounging on the picnic table, a hummingbird perched in the tree. Then he buzzed my red backpack and vanished away. And I'd just been thinking earlier that there were almost absolutely no flowers here. The exception is a pale purple flower (probably Western Ironweed) and a scrubby white-flowered weed next to it. So I wonder if the hummingbird has a secret stash of flowers I don't know of, or if he's a migrant stopping off on his way south. Next time we come here, I should put up the hummingbird feeder.

It was amazingly quiet at the park. A few helicopters buzzed by, possibly from the Army base. Traffic off in the direction of Temple, but muted. Dogs barking in the very far distance--and right by my side when we got too close to the deer. No crickets to speak of, just that faint little 'tic' noise of some water creature.

And it was amazingly beautiful, like a landscape caught in oils. The water was glassy and still, although before it started getting dark you could see millions of fish dimples on the surface. Not a breath stirring and while the cloud cover was not complete, it was enough to hide the moon. I knew where she was, but I couldn't see nary a glance of her.

At 8:19 it was 78 degrees outside. Amazing, no? But the day before it had been in the 90s at the time of day. Much improvement, but fall was not there for real just then.

Damn it was lonesome without Edward. When you're not expecting someone, you get on with your business and do your own thing. But when you're expecting someone who can't come, it's just hollow.   We had to eat our lovely fajita dinner by our lonely selves.

Tuesday at Cedar Ridge Campground (September 1)

It was too windy for fishing so I had to make a choice between hanging around camp and trying to see birds, which were pretty much nonexistent right then, or taking a road trip. Road trips aren't what they used to be before Covid. No little shops, farmer's markets, museums. We're limited to things we can do outside. So I settled on Colorado Bend State park.

The shortest hike they had was 1-1/4 miles down to the Gorman Falls, then the same distance back. That's a trivial walk for me even in the 100+ degree heat. But I didn't take into account elevation change, rocks, and Zack.

So we set off with two liters of water and a bottle of iced tea. It was hot and unpleasant but not a bad trail--there were sections of jumbled rocks but also sections of flat (more-or-less) gravel track. One had to look at one's feet more often than not, but it was easily walkable. At first there were little warning signs every fifty yards or so--Do you have enough water? The human body needs one liter of water per hour. 34 heat rescues so far this year. Etc.

We ignored them, of course. But we did find ourselves stopping in the shady areas a time or two. The main problem was Zack. He's not up to walking on the best of roads and walking at his pace is excruciating for a human like me. While I'd committed myself to carrying him for most of the trip, I didn't fully understand what that would end up meaning.  I quickly got tired of scrambling down rock with six pounds of water on my back and twenty five pounds of small dog in my arms.

When the trail started going sharply downhill with half the distance yet to go, I lost my will to continue. My imagination of having to walk back uphill carrying that weight just did me in. I sat down in the shade and didn't get up.
I settled for this view.

I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I let my imagination run away with me. I began to think I wasn't physically capable of making it back, and once the thought filled my dumb brain, it stuck. So I stayed in the shade and let Ed take Molly down to see the falls.

On our slow, tortuous way back we were passed by a young man who asked if we had water. We didn't--we'd finished it--and I would have lied, but Ed admitted that we were dry and he offered us some of his. That was incredibly decent of him, but what he did next was amazing. He went on back to his truck, got six bottles of water out, and brought them back to us.

We gratefully accepted even though we were probably less than 1/8 mile away from our own cooler. I gave the dogs a bottle and Ed and I each slurped one down ourselves.

So there you have it. I blew off an opportunity to see a cool waterfall and I also bypassed at least three interesting birds without even pulling out my binoculars. What a wimp!

Lesson learned. Carry more water and leave Zack behind on future hiking trips. I can carry myself and I can carry water, but I can't carry a 25 pound dog very far.

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.

Mammoth goes to Belton Lake. Again

Cedar Ridge Campground

Sun Aug 30 - Thu Sep 3 Site 31

1. Planned distance: 202 miles
2. Map time estimate: 3:28
3. Adjusted estimate: didn't calculate
4. Actual distance: forgot to check
5. Actual time: (return trip) 3:34
6. Gas stop in Temple, ~10 minutes
7. Average mph trip: unknown

There was absolutely NO prediction of rain on my weather app. Weather Underground said 20% chance of showers which at this time of year is equivalent to zero. So what happened on departure morning?

Rain, thunder, more rain, and a lot of it.

We were due to head out right after church for a 4-day camping trip with Edward. There were no weekend reservations available, so the best I could do was Sunday night - Wednesday night. But we figured that was better than nothing. (hint: it wasn't)

Nearly everything was ready the night before so we didn't have to do much slogging in the mud to finish up. We were taking the boat again, and it was already hooked to Mammoth's massive hitch. Actually it's a little-bitty hitch, but the word 'massive' sounded better. I finished up the last-minute stuff while Ed was churching. All that was left was changing clothes, unplugging, grabbing snacks and dogs, and heading off into the sunset. Or rain clouds. Whatever.

I'd been listening to a very interesting book while I was jogging, and I happened to put the earbuds in my bag, to take along, so temptation overcame me to plug them in. I put an earbud in one ear and went on listening while I was driving. (The truck doesn't have bluetooth) So I was pleasantly distractedly driving for the better part of the afternoon.

But nothing could distract from the disaster which is Dallas traffic. The entire bleeping freeway was closed down on I- 635 loop south about four miles before our exit. We couldn't let the phone re-route us on account of Ed had to freeze the route on his phone to prevent Google from taking us down Interstate 35.  (We despise Interstate 35)

We were stuck in traffic for at least ten minutes, maybe longer. But after that pain-in-the-neck episode, driving was normal and boring. We arrived at around four p.m. or so, and Edward arrived shortly afterward. Steak, salmon, and skewers for supper (how boring and predictable of us!) And a pleasant family sit-down with recorded episodes of Impractical Jokers and Outdoor Man for entertainment.

I missed the sunset but the moon was making a nice picture:

Catching up overdue reviews again

With the Fire On High

by Elizabeth Avecedo

A quick, YA book about a girl who loves to cook but has no self-confidence for anything outside the kitchen. Recommended for the target audience, but as an adult I found it a little too full of magical thinking. Plus, nothing all that bad happens, so when the good stuff happens it wasn't as exciting as it might have been.

The romantic relationship was boring and seemed to be ninety-five percent sexual attraction even though she tried to make it otherwise. I'm okay with sex (not explicit) in a young adult book, I just feel like it should be in the forefront if it's going to be there, not pulled in subtly as a side-effect of "true love." But maybe that was the author's point.

That said, I enjoyed every page. And, thankfully, no recipes--oh, wait. I think there might have been recipes. No matter--they didn't interest me and I skipped them.

Anne Frank: The Untold Story
The hidden truth about Elli Vossen, the youngest helper of the Secret Annex
by Jeroen de Bruyn, Joop van Wijk
 
So...I'm addicted to Anne Frank stories. Get that right out in public at the first. I read everything I can get my hands on; I own several books on the subject; and I even tried to read The Critical Edition once--that's the one where all three versions of the diary are printed in the same volume, intermixed. I didn't get very far with that--it's basically like reading an author's second draft, third draft and first draft at the same time and that gets old really fast.

For an addict, this is required reading. For anyone else, no. It really didn't get into the subject's (Bep Voskupfil) mind as I'd hoped. The author tried, but there was too much missing material. To tell the story I'd hoped he'd write the whole autobiography of Bep and her life in context, would have required fictionalizing to make up the details. He didn't do that and I'm grateful...but it would have made a good story.

Catch up on two reviews from a while back

 Running With Sherman

by MacDougal


Lovely book. All about how a man started off wanting to rehabilitate a donkey--and, incidentally, fulfil a personal dream he'd had in the back of mind for some time. But MacDougal isn't one to stay on topic, so along the way you learn tidbits about mental illness, Amish people, goat racing, and the life stories of pretty near everyone who helps his venture along the way.

 

 

 

 

The unexpected Joy of Being Sober
by Catherine Gray
Lots of good stuff here. I was listening to it while I jogged, so although I heard lots of quotable passages, I don't remember any of them to write down here. The gist of it is this: the word "sober" is bad description of a life you can lead when you finally figure out how to stop dragging yourself down with the chains of daily drink.

It's a marvelous book and my only quibble is that it went on for about two chapters after it was over. Everything she wanted to say was said in the first ten chapters or so, and then at the end, she decided to say it all over again. Omitting the last few chapters, I highly recommend it for someone thinking about quitting or in the early days of quitting.

But on a personal note, I found it difficult to listen (audiobook) to descriptions of drinking, right there in my ears, for hour on hour. No matter how horribly painful they were, no matter how badly they always ended, just hearing the words triggered a switch that I thought I'd turned off. Even though she'd just described a horrific life made unbearable by nightly blackouts and miserable mornings, hearing the words "first drink" over and over made me want one. Stupid me.

I think I'll switch from reading about non-drinking to reading other self help books. She mentioned one about mindfulness but I can't find where. That's the problem withaudiobooks. Drat.

Monday, Leaving Yegua Creek

(August 17)

I can't get my head out of the mode of thinking that says "going home" means "back to work." I'm retired now! But since I need to check in with my contract manager and see about that broken laptop, "home" really does mean "back to work," sort of. Not to mention dealing with all sort of home maintenance activities. Blah.

Edward left before I was awake, for the 1-1/2 hour drive back to his work. And we had a slow, droopy Monday morning all by our lonesomes. The only problem with having a good time with friends ad family is the letdown feeling after they leave. After fixing breakfast and taking the dogs for a walk, I started to get ready to leave and didn't even bother carrying my binoculars. Stupid me--sure, there weren't many birds there, but there are always birds. For the near future, at least.

So the little bird down by the muddy lake shore went unidentified, while the dishes got done and put away, the chairs got stowed in the Mammoth compartment, and the trash got shuttled to the dumpster array. For some reason, instead of scattering dumpsters around the camping areas, they lined up five of them and put them far away on the road leading out.

We left at 11:00 and found that Molly was not a happy traveler this morning. she whined and moaned every time we hit a rumble strip and then intermittently whined and moaned or no apparent reason at all. Poor puppy; poor us.

I made a real goof. It should have been a simple drive over to I-45 and back north to Dallas. But I saw a cutoff over to I-45 that looked much shorter even though google maps said it was nine minutes slower. Well...nine minutes means something different in a car than it does in an RV towing a car. Every stoplight adds twice the time it would in a car, and every twist and turn slow us down a lot more than we normally need to.

As we approached the cutoff, a sign indicated a detour on some obscure county road, and I thought the sign meant that the road we were ON had the detour. But no sooner had we committed to the cutoff road did we realize that I was wrong--we were on the road with the detour--and there was absolutely no space to turn around. I kept telling Ed that if he could find any place to turn around, any at all, he should do so.

But he could not. We went on and soon were on a dirt road detour. I call them gravel roads but Texas calls them white-rock roads and google maps calls them "acceptable routes". Which they are not! Google has an option to "avoid tolls", "avoid highways", and "avoid ferries", but none of those are what we need. We need an options to AVOID UNPAVED ROADS AT ALL COSTS!!!!

This is not the first time Google maps has routed us down a gravel road, but I'm determined it will be the last. We finally got around the detour and ended up on the road under construction, with huge dump trucks in front and behind us. There was no way to get off and nothing to do but proceed. I kept looking for an guide car to come lead us along the one-lane portion, but it never came.

It seemed like forever. When we eventually reached pavement again we did not stop and kiss the ground, but instead put our fists out the window and shook them angrily at the poorly marked mess behind us.

After that failure of judgement, I survived the next ordeal of selecting a suitable truck stop where we could gas up. note for future: the Pilot Truck Stop in Buffalo is pretty nice, although the Valero's Travel Center a little farrther north looks good, too.

Molly's loose stools were still very much in evidence on the small strip of grass next to the huge expanse of pavement (necessary for big old trucks and tiny little Mammoth RVs to turn around in). But she went back in and during the rest of the ride made not a peep of complaining. So maybe that's what she was trying to tell us all along--not that she was lonely and scared and didn't want to be cooped up in the stupid cage, but, "I gotta go!'

The trip around Dallas was remarkably painless. It was nearing 4:00, and I expected traffic to be building up. We'd planned to go on around 635 to the 75 North Central Expressway exit, but the maps app warned us of lanes closed in Garland. So we did the usual detour--I-30 eastbound and then George Bush Turnpike westbound. And it was fine. Ed says that he prefers it in future, and I guess I do too. It's a couple of miles farther but much smoother and almost no traffic.

We arrived at 4:13 and by 5:00 were completely unloaded and hooked up. (Note: the only thing to hook up is the power supply and the extension cord for the freezer. I don't count the satellite dish in this, and of course we don't hook up water at home.)

NOTES:
1. Treat yourself to a small bag of cheese nips for the drive
2. Avoid weekend camping in August
3. Aggressively research routes! Never take an alternate route that's slower than the main route unless you have a good reason for it (like avoiding Houston). When you see a detour/road closed sign, read it carefully and pay attention.

Sunday at Yegua Creek

 (August 16)

Weird morning indeed. I snoozed at least four times, so by the time I got up and wandered the dogs over to Bob's camp, Theresa had already gone on her morning walk. So we just hung out and talked. And she returned and we talked. Eventually I needed to take my own dogs for their walk, and after that I left Zack in the RV (Edward was still snoozing) and went with Theresa, Rojo and Molly for another walk around the little trail. That time, we saw a herd of wild pigs on the other side.

After that I was starving, so I rousted out Edward and made sausage and egg burritos for my guys, egg and salsa for myself. It was nearing eleven o'clock by then, so we were "doing brunch."

And by then Bob and Theresa were starting their own lunch and packing up their little Casita to travel. We all sat around and talked and piddled with food and talked some more. And then it was time for them to leave for home.

It was only 90 degrees by then and about 1:40, so I took Molly for a "jog" along the little nature trail. When we got down to the water, we scared up more vultures than I've ever seen in one place at a time, ever. Here are just a few. [pic tree vultures] But we saw nothing else interesting except some little birds in the grass, and I was too hot and bothered to waste time on trying to see them.

Then Zack got a short walk in and around.  If we ever wanted to camp here again, sites 22, 20 and 21, in that order, might be acceptable. But I don't think we will.

I decided to walk the nature trail one last time in the early evening, so I sat around and played with my photos for the rest of the afternoon. When I finally went out, taking Mollydog of course, it was nearing sundown but there was nothing to see on the trail, not even the little birds in the grasses. No matter. Back to shower, supper, and early bed (for me).

Pretty near ready to give up on cozies

Threshold of Deceit (The Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, #2)

I wrote this at the time: I'm enjoying this but it's driving me crazy!  What is the deal with mystery novelists jumping in and out of everybody's head? 

You knew who the murderer was from page one, because you watched her doing it.  All that's left are the steps of detection, which is boring boring boring because you already know how it's going to turn out! And later, when the author introduced a wrinkle into the case, she telegraphed the reveal so clearly that reading the "big revelation" was downright anticlimactic.

What in the world happened to convince an author that someone wanted to read a police procedural with no suspense whatsoever? The subplot, which involves the modern-day female tracking down a lost twin brother, is interesting but again, resolves itself with no suspense at all.

The characters are cool and the situation fascinating, but I don't think I can stomach another one unless she learns to keep her omniscient author's prying eyes out of peoples' heads.

Saturday at Yegua Creek Campground

(August 15)

Theresa's morning walk started later than usual, so Molly and I were awake and ready to tag along. The walk took less than 30 minutes--I didn't time it, but that's about what it felt like. Even though I was sweating buckets at the end, I didn't consider it enough time to be exercise. Except, of course, for my mouth.

After breakfast we all decided to go check out Somerville State Park, so we loaded our dogs in our respective vehicles and headed out. When we arrived, it was, believe it or not, "full" for day use. Even at half capacity I would have never believed it. But the nice lady at the gate let us drive around to check out the campsites.

What I saw pretty much confirmed what my online research had shown--it's not for us. It's old and crowded and hardly any of the sites have any lake view. In fact, a whole lot of them are just tiny driveways carved out in dense underbrush. You wouldn't get any breeze at all, even in a hurricane.

At a different time in our lives that might be okay but not now. We demand air, space, and if possible, some sort of view. Picky of us, but there you have it.

The sites didn't look to be very level, either, and some were awfully short. So, double no.

On the way out I suddenly remembered that there was an "overlook park" by the dam, so I gave them a quick call (they were in front of us) and suggested it. But when we tried going there, we hit a "dam road closed" sign and could not proceed. We went around Somerville to approach from the other side, but the road was closed there, too. So bah! Damn the dam road.

Instead it was back to camp for watermelon and lunch. Yum!

Funny, even at my advanced age I'm still learning things about myself. I don't normally kill wasps, especially not out in the open. In the car and on my front porch, maybe. But I've learned that I really really hate people swatting at a wasp wimpily and not making a clean kill.  If you're going to hit it, kill it! I'm not afraid of wasp stings, but if I'd gotten one due to certain people making the wasp angry, I'd have went in the RV and sulked all afternoon.

So the afternoon was so hot that it was almost but not quite unbearable. After a quick bite, we each retired to our separate RVs for naps (Ed, Bob and Theresa) and playing on our electronics (Edward and me). I organized my photos and pulled out all the best bird shots. I had so many adorable shots of Sanderlings that I couldn't choose just one.

I was just finishing up when a knock came on the door. Naps over, they'd decided to go to the beach, if you want to call it that--this is the middle of Texas and there isn't a beach within a hundred-eighty miles. What we have is a muddy spot on the side of the lake where the water doesn't get deep for a long ways out.

Bob and Theresa took their float out and took turns holding the dogs and floating in the lake. I took my floatie and Zack--he was perfectly happy lying on my stomach, floating around in the bathtub of a lake. He was practically purring.

Too soon I had to take him back and return with Mollydog, who had no interest whatsoever in swimming. Or chasing sticks. She barely got we up to her belly. But at least she wasn't trying to fight with the other dogs. Marvelous progress! She appeared to be getting used to them.

We didn't stay long. We went back to their campsite and sat around for a while, drying off, and when I returned to my Mammoth the guys were finishing supper. I warmed up my own leftovers and headed back to eat with the Bob and T, and soon we were joined by my guys.

After that I don't remember much of anything happened except us sitting around and talking for a while. Must have been a loooonnng while. And it grew dark and w went to bed. May sound boring, but it wasn't. It's what human beings do, and it's marvelous.