Tuesday at Belton Lake

 October 6 2020

The agenda for the day was fishing, but the weather was weird. It was very overcast and very cool. I forgot to bring my jacket on the boat, but I was able to use Ed's (when he took it off.) I was still wearing it at about noon, when the clouds lifted and the sun blasted down its evil waves of heat  upon us. It was (almost) unpleasantly hot for the rest of the time out there.

When we had launched the boat, we'd discovered that there was another day of the fishing tournament underway. A large number of boats were gathered around the dock and hovering nearby--I asked a guy walking out there and he said that they were on a break. Sure enough, in a little while a car horn sounded and all the boats took off again.

We went downstream and then turned left up a little creek, partly to get away from the wakes created by all the boats coming and going at high speed, and partly just to see what was there.  It turned out that there really wasn't much of anything there. Houses on cliffs on the north side of the lake; low banks on the south and a bunch of cabins, which I believe were part of Cedar Ridge Park.  And no fish to speak of.

Later we went exploring, hunting for another good spot near the boat ramp, but found no big fishes anywhere. No birds, either. Although I think this was the day I saw three small falcons cavorting by the water's edge.

Taking Molly for a walk was painful, and not just because my leg hurt from Sunday's fall. I went at about 4:30, assuming I'd get back before the deer came out and Edward arrived. But the deer were out at 4:30. Technically, at this campground, I'm not sure they have a schedule. They hang out on the grass in the pavilion area, and all day long they cross the road and cross back.

Molly is learning, but not so quickly as she needs to, not to lunge forward on a leash. I made her stand and watch the deer until she could calm herself down enough to walk beside me. Cruel, but necessary if she's ever going to get to go anywhere. Bird watching is impossible with her, but I wasn't suffering too much at the present because there weren't all that many birds to watch.

Our walk got cut shortish because whichever way I turned, there were deer. But that's okay because Edward returned and we went to check out the Disc Golf Course called Heritage Park. Not having any kind of map of the course, we didn't know where to start. The hole they (not we, I skipped playing for reasons involving dogs on leashes) played first was #2, and it was extremely long even for a par four. I think they each shot seven or eight, but no one was keeping score.

Then hole #3 went right through a deeply wooded creek bed. By then they were beginning to understand the lay of the course, so they chose to skip hole #3 and do the next one, #4, then #18, then #1. Those holes were pleasant although it wouldn't hurt the caretakers to do a little more mowing in places.

It would have been fun to do the whole course, but night was falling and Zack was getting tired, and both guys were getting hungry.  I suspect. Me, I'm always hungry when camping. Meals are variable and physical activity is increased even if we don't do anything special. For example, dogs can't be put in the back yard to walk themselves--every step they take, I take too. The steps up into the front door are huge; climbing in and out of the boat is a major ordeal, and even climbing into the Ford F250 pickup truck takes me both hands on the strap and a jump.

The guys ate the chicken, sausage and rice casserole I'd made with no complaints, and Edward overate it, but I didn't think it tasted very good at all. It was incredibly bland to start with, and freezing and reheating didn't improve it any. I guess Edward could consider it home cooking as opposed to fast food, so it was somewhat good for him. Without a single green vegetable--just onions, a little red bell pepper, and a cup of cooked beans.

Birds so far:
Grackle, Great Tailed. Mockingbirds. Vultures, Turkey and Black. Eastern Bluebird. On the water, l Great Blue Heron, Neotropic Cormorant, a strange little water bird that I didn't get a good look at, and Kingfisher (only one.) A flycatcher that had a very yellow belly but no crest--it could have been Couch's, but I didn't think to look carefully, Two or three Kestrels in and out of a treetop near the water.

At Cedar Ridge Belton Lake, Days 2 and 3

 Sunday October 4

Sunday morning, still no birds. Where did all the canyon wrens go? Are they simply silent for the winter, or are they still singing their annoying little ditty on the other side of the campground?

Lots of deer in the morning.  Well...lots, as in four. Then one later. Molly thought there were lots.

Pretty flowers all over,


We gave Edward the option of going fishing or playing disc golf, and strangely, he chose fishing. So after the obligatory run for camping donuts (yeah, you heard that correctly), the guys got some minnows while I gave the dogs a long, delicious walk, and off we went in the boat.

The boat ramp was packed. There were two paved trailer parking lots and one gravel overflow lot, and all of those had trailers in them. And a lot of pickup trucks, too. We later learned there was a tournament going on. There also appeared to be a little party in the grassy area next to the boat ramp, because at least forty people and children were gathered around and they had a little ceremony shortly after noon. We couldn't hear what it was all about, nor did we care to hear--we were fishing.

The crappie spot was easy to find and proved productive. I had three small ones and a tiny little perch; Ed had a few, and for the first time, Edward! He had at least two decent sized ones--I thought they said thirteen inches but it might have been fourteen--and they were deifnitely keepers. Sadly, we weren't keeping.

One of them thrashed around so violently that it tangled my line with his--I was fishing about three feet behind him and I didn't pull in fast enough. You never know what a fish will do, though, and I should have anticipated the snarl. Edward untangled the line and it took him a good while...I felt guilty at not doing it myself, but I forgot that I had my glasses handy for once.

At about two o'clock the fish stopped biting. Why knows? I've seen it before, but never expect it until it happens.

So it should have been a lovely evening with barbequed chicken and family, but stupid Molly ruined it. We had an incident with a neighbor's dog; we offered to pay the vet bills but they left camp next day and never came back to tell us how much money we owed them. I am very sorry.

Monday October 5

Monday had better have a better ending than the day before--I was determined of it. No mistakes, no loose dogs, and no neighbors with locked door disasters.

We had a leisurely breakfast, sans Edward, of course. I guessed my hopes of feeding him pancakes were gone, this trip. After that I washed dishes, took a shower, put away dishes and helped with preparations for "the big move." Our new campsite was about a hundred yards from the old one, but it was right by the water and I could walk the dogs without squeezing my way though other people's campsites. There were many more open spaces than there had been the night before, but I still would have guessed it at one-quarter to one-third full. According to a lady we spoke with last night, they close down all the campgrounds on Belton Lake except this one (and only this side of it) and the one on the north side of the dam. We had driven through that one and were not impressed.

Other than the move, I didn't make any notes for the day. Molly and I took a long walk, over to the other camping area and along the water. We didn't see this

falcon there, but we enjoyed it all the same. The falcon pic came from the fishing trip next day.

Mammoth in Search of Our Progeny. Again.

Turkey Roost Campground, Cedar Ridge Park on Lake Belton
Saturday, October 3 - Wednesday, October 7

The route should have been simple--repeat the same route we'd taken every time before. But...Ed had previously complained about a little "cut through" he wanted to avoid, so, when he hit the loop around Waco, he overrode my directions. Instead of taking a left turn--south on the loop, he went north. That of course put us in the center Waco right in the middle of the stupid road construction that our South loop was designed to avoid.

But, oddly enough, it wasn't as bad as it had been in the past. Not the construction--it was as narrow and congested as always. But the Motorhome Driver was more experienced now--he was getting uncannily good at knowing where his tires were. And the boat trailer tires, too. I will propose taking the I-35 route all the way next time and we'll see.

So what with the "short cut", we left home at about 11:25 and arrived at about 3:05, with only one short bathroom break. (Google considers this a 2:45 trip; we took 3:10) Although the drive was somewhat routine, getting ready was a bear. On Friday I had been doing contract work until about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, before starting my cooking. I was making a Chicken and Sausage Paella, a cheesecake, some roasted vegetables with "Basil Pistau", and my normal travel day lunch, Crab Rollups. The Basil Pistau lost out really fast and the roasted vegetables nearly did, too. The only reason they got made was because I needed something to do while the Cheesecake baked. Or should I say burned? It was most definitely burned around the edges.

I gave up cooking at seven o'clock and decided to do the crab in the morning. Which made the morning stink pretty bad--I barely had time for a short jog and in fact, cut it even shorter because I couldn't take the route I preferred--too many people on the road.  So all in all, Ed ended up having to wait on me, which never happens, and we didn't get away from the house until around eleven-thirty.

The Corp of Engineers had closed down the eastern loop of the campground and crammed all the people into one side. This appears to be a seasonal thing, due to lack of demand, but this year there was a lot of demand.  We were lucky to get a spot at all, especially on a Saturday. (I couldn't get anything at all on Friday) But the spot turned out to be pretty nice and had plenty of space on three sides around it. There were people really close on our backside, but who cared? They were nice people.

Molly and I took a walk to see if there was a boat ramp on that side of the campground (there was) and we saw some deer on the way back. Leastways, I saw some deer. They were skulking in the woods--Molly smelled them, but I don't think she actually saw any. She saw and smelled this:

No birds at all, except vultures and crows. Not even a canyon wren! They're probably all down at the other end of the campground where the people are not.

But we didn't come here to see birds, although I did harbor a secret desire to get a good picture of a canyon wren. We came to see Edward, and he arrived at about five. It was good to be together for a day. He'd have to go back to work on Monday, but hopefully no more all nights "in the field" would be scheduled.

Funny thing happened, just as Ed was finishing grilling supper. The lady from the campsite by the water came over--she'd locked herself out of her RV. Actually, the RV locked her out: she closed the door and it locked behind her. So she came over to use our phone. She got hold of a locksmith and they said they'd call her back.

But, of course, that would be on Ed's phone. He and Edward went over to try to pick the lock and wait with her while the locksmith service finished another job. It took them a long time, so after waiting for a while I went ahead and did the dogs' evening walk. I walked for about an hour, total, but part of that was spent trying to find lock-picking tools for the guys to try.

As they waited, they discussed various things and discovered that the lady actually had Triple-A and could have called it instead of a local locksmith. But her membership card, along with her purse and phone, was locked in the RV. We shouldn't ever have that problem because not only is our Good Sam card in Ed's wallet, he has their app downloaded on his phone. Our lock won't lock automatically like hers did, but it's very likely I could pull the trick of losing the keys at any time. (Like I did in Arkansas!)

Listening was a treat. And scary.

The Alienist
by Caleb Carr

Impossible not to fall in love with this. Gory and gruesome to the max. A whole lot of mystery and intrigue and history out the whazoodle. If it hadn't been so clearly written in present time, looking backward, you'd have thought you were there in 1890s New York City. I listened to the audiobook and I occasionally went back and re-listened to a section just because I wanted to hear it again.

One odd thing--I assume that the Mr. Roosevelt he includes in his cast of characters is the Theodore Roosevelt, soon to become president of the nation. But at one point the author refers to him as Mr. President...was that a mistake or did I mis-hear?  Because at the time he was just a police commissioner or some such bureaucrat.

Mr. Carr left himself open to writing a whole series of books starring the same cast of characters, and it does appear that he's written a sequel, but I'll have to carefully consider some of the very negative reviews it's gotten.

Could read walking books all day long if they were all like this

Listening for Coyote

A Walk Across Oregon's Wilderness

by William L. Sullivan

I wish Mr. Sullivan would walk across every state and write a book about them, each and every one.  I'd read them with complete happiness.

His walking story is personal, historical, topical and gregarious-ical. Whatever you call it--the stories of people he meets. And of course Coyote, who follows him metaphysically. They only meet once, that I remember, but are always together in thought.

He's a great writer and a great walker. What more can I say?

One night early on, when he had a rare companion, he wrote this:

It was the first clear night of the trip--and what a spectacle it was! Blue-white Vega beamed precisely overhead, yellow Arcturus shimmered to one side, and across the whole blazed the Milky Way, glowing so brightly that the dark, mottled dust clouds of the galaxy's arm stood out in sharp relief.

In the stillness of the night, the unseen gravity pressing our backs against the dark meadow seemed like an untrustworthy force--as if it might suddenly fail, and we would go hurtling off into the galaxy on edge before us.

Been there. Want to be there again.

Lasts as long and entertains as much as a half-hour game show

 Witch Hunt
by Cate Conte

I finished it and I wasn't bored...but I'm not particularly interested in another. It was a weird mishmash of murder mystery and identity reveal--the lead character suddenly discovers she's a witch, and oh, by the way, she needs to solve a murder. Which was more or less absolutely boring. The witch part was pretty good--why didn't she stick to that?

Saturday and Sunday at Brooken Cove

 Saturday September 19

Saw two lone scissortails in fields today, blowing my theory about the fall congregations...or else these hadn't gotten the word yet. My theory was that in fall, scissortails leave their lonely existence in the grassy fields and congregate along lake shores, where they fuss and scream at each other until the time is right to head south. I'm no longer sure that theory is sound, but you cannot argue that there are always a lot of scissortails around lake shores in the fall.

I got in a jog to the other camping loop and around, but I must have cut it short somehow because it only took fifty minutes. Then we packed our cooler and went on a road trip.

The object of the exercise was to check out a few campgrounds nearby and see if their descriptions online matched reality. Answer: not in the slightest. Campground descriptions are absurdly subjective, it seems. I'm sure the people camping next to us would describe the one we're at as a "beautiful place" and they "had a great time"--but my description would involve words like "sucky", "boring," and "noisy."

Before looking at campgrounds, we decided to check out the Sequoia Wildlife Preserve, at the junction of the Canadian and Arkansas River. According to Google it had a couple of handicapped-accessible walking trails and a six-mile auto tour. It was a pleasant drive, and their signage was excellent. Even though we met not a single worker, host, or employee of the Forest Service, we found everything easily.

And it was a great place. No, we didn't see any wildlife to speak of--it was midday by the time we arrived. In the winter we might have seen flocks of snow geese and the water might have been exploding with ducks, but it was too early in the year for all that. I did see a small flock of White Pelicans and a single gull, along with the usual Great Egret and Blue Heron.

The preserve has several fields planted with corn and some smaller crop, probably soybeans, that look like they will be left for food. The mission of the National Wildlife Preserves is not what you'd think--they're not about preserving "wildlife." They're about preserving game for hunters. It's trendy and cool to put in an occasional "nature drive" or a handicapped accessible walkway, and that sort of thing might bring in an occasional out-of-state visitor, but the real purpose for these "preserves" is to keep the cash flowing from hunters' game licenses and fishers' fishing licenses. Even though I'm a card-carrying treehugger myself, I appreciate hunters. Not on my own property, of course, but they serve a useful purpose--they keep these natural areas out of private hands.

We met a guy fishing with his little boy; he explained a bunch of complicated rules about the various areas of water that were marked off with buoys to warn motor boat traffic away. Not that we saw any motor boats--it was a delightfully empty place. We saw as few as six people the whole hour we were there.

I took the opportunity to drop my binoculars--hard--on the concrete and destroy them.

As we were driving through Oklahoma, I found a radio station that was sponsored by the Chickasaw tribe. I enjoyed listening to it--they played public service announcements, oldies, and some current country music. But, I wondered, why Chickasaw?  I thought the eastern half of Oklahoma was dived up between Cherokee, Creek (central), Choctaw and Seminole--but I was flat wrong. It is actually Cherokee (northeast), Choctaw (southeast), Chickasaw (south-central) and Osage (north-central). The Chickasaw have the area to the south-center while we were in the southeast and northeast, but the radio station is broadcast from multiple transmitters all over.

There was some interesting news about the Indian tribes in Oklahoma recently. The Supreme Court ruled on July 9th that if a Native American is involved, certain major crimes committed within the boundaries of reservations must be prosecuted in federal court rather than state court. So if a Native American is accused of a major crime in downtown Tulsa, the federal government rather than the state government will prosecute it. Less serious crimes involving Native Americans on American Indian land will be handled in tribal courts.

But hearing that made me curious--who owns the land? It turns out that just because the boundaries of the nation are marked on the map, that/doesn't mean the tribe owns all the land there. It's analagous to a county line--a county doesn't own all the land within the county. It's more of a jurisdictional boundary, and in fact, the nation probably doesn't own very much of that land. But, oddly enough, they can make a killing by operating casinos.

Oklahoma Indian gaming revenues have risen 15 straight years — reaching nearly $4.4 billion in 2016.  Oklahoma tribes are required to pay fees to the state based on the amount of revenue they derive from Class III games such as slot machines, blackjack, craps and roulette.

Many tribes also operate Class II and Class I games, but do not have to share with the state any revenues derived from those games. Class II games are bingo and bingo-style games, and include electronic versions of bingo that resemble slot machines. Class I games include traditional Indian games that may be a part of tribal ceremonies and celebrations and social gaming for minimal prizes.

Another change brought by the Supreme Court decision is to give the tribes a bigger say over oil and gas wells, refineries, and pipelines — including those running to the Cushing hub of the Keystone XL. <quote> With the high court’s ruling, oil and gas drillers in the nation’s fourth largest oil-producing state suddenly find themselves operating within the Muscogee (Creek) Nation and four other tribal reservations.  Instead of dealing with business-friendly regulators from the state of Oklahoma, oil producers may soon have to contend with both tribes and the federal government, which often manages land for Native Americans.

Anyway, back to the trip--I can't write in detail about all the places we visited because I haven't reviewed the maps and notes to sum them up. There are some really pretty places, especially Tenkiller State Park, but they don't seem to be in full operation. At Tenkiller there were a few poorly placed full hookup sites, all in use, and a whole bunch of lovely water+electric sites with the connections disconnected. The boxes were open and the wiring hanging loose. Why, I cannot imagine. (Or determine by searching online.)

We went to two Corp Of Engineers parks that were okay but the sites were mostly short and poorly situated. And, I believe, closing for the winter at the end of October. The drive was pretty but I wouldn't call it mountainous. It's like if you took the Arkansas Ozarks, shortened them by half and cut out every other hill. Bumpy but not at all scenic.

We returned disappointed. There may be some great campsites up farther north, but they'll have to wait for another day.

I finally saw a bird in this crummy little campground--a Belted Kingfisher. Just once, and he flew away immediately.

Sunday September 20

Pancakes for breakfast! They turned out very well, I think, although a judicious application of real butter and real maple syrup would have made a distinct difference.

Meal summary and critique: salmon, skewers and baked potato--excellent as always. Barbequed chicken and salad--very good. Leftover salmon, gumbo, rice and salad--also very good. Steak and shrimp fajitas, guacamole and salad--excellent except I accidentally fixed the shrimp the day before so they spent an extra day in the marinade which had lime juice. That didn't ruin it, but it didn't help it either. I'd prefer chicken for myself, which I might do next time. Free range beef would be best but I can't expect my chef to keep one piece of meat separate from the other. Then on the last day, leftover chicken, skewered vegetables and salad. Marvelous choices, all.

I got in a quick jog and then made the pancakes while I wrestled with a huge load of dirty dishes left over from the night before. On the night before a moving day, I really need to take the effort to wash all the dishes--even if we're going to mess up more during breakfast, it's worth the trouble.

All that took longer than it should have and we didn't leave until 12:18. There was no rush--it was only a three hour drive.

The truck had developed a scary rattle on the right side, underneath, around the middle. Ed checked, and the only likely cause he could find were some worn out rubber pads around the brackets that hold the muffler on. I drove carefully, listening to the ratttle and cringing, until I finally got on a smooth road and up to speed where either the noise stopped or I stopped being able to hear it due to the engine noise.

The route home was just as horridly messed up with road construction as the one up. For future note, here are the bad spots:
-- From six miles north of  MacAlester until the city limits; the entire southbound lanes were obliterated and both sides were squeezed onto the two narrow lanes of the northbound side.
-- From the highway 131 exit on down to somewhere; I didn't notice where. Just a single lane closure on each side.
-- From Caney to Caddo; both directions squeezed onto one side; very bad.
-- Around the northern approach to Durant, the construction was over but the lane marker painting was not done and the orange barrels were still sitting around.
== All around the Choctaw Casino/Resort at Calera; concrete walls were up; lanes were rerouted; and it was altogether bad. But I don't remember any lane closures there.
-- All around Sherman, Texas,. There were walls and construction zones and they weren't marked, flagged or given any warnings about. You were just driving along one minute and the next, WHAM! There it was and you were squeezing gingerly alongside a wall.
-- Intermittently all through the north part of Texas, no construction but huge potholes. I avoided most of them but hit one square on. Wham.

We accomplished a quick and efficient refueling stop at ta VPRacing Truck Stop in Savanna. It took nine minutes, cost $59.57. We took on 28.9 gallons to fill the tank. Then we arrived at the house by 3:46, so that made the total trip including the one stop at three hours and twenty-eight minutes. not bad.

NOTES

1. A bad site in a good campground is a hundred times better than a good site in a bad campground.
2. Stay off US-75 and US-69 for the foreseeable future. Maybe by Christmas they'll be driveable.
3. A long day trip can make a bad camping site bearable.
4. Some wildlife refuges are must better developed for non-hunters than you'd expect. This makes a second one we went to that had a decent, well-marked driving tour. But try especially hard to find a map ahead of time--the roads inside the refuges are not necessarily shown on Google Maps.
5. A lot of COE parks are closed in the winter.