Day 2 – to Frisco, CO

Except for the bright light coming from the campsite next door, and the sounds of all their gear rustling and shifting in the wind, it was a very pleasant night!

During my shower this morning, I realized with a start that I was being watched. Two toads must have gotten stuck in the shower room overnight. After I got dressed, Dad helped me shoo them back outside. 

After coffee and breakfast burritos, Dad and I packed up the Teardrop – not much to it, really – and were ready to go by 8 a.m. Gone are the days of packing up three sleeping bags and sleeping mats, taking down a tent, folding the rain fly and stashing it all away while also picking Polly Pocket pieces and smooshed fruit snacks out of the back of the minivan and calling it a success if we were on the road by 10:30. We miss you guys! We really do! But we are also enjoying the simplicity of this trip so far.

The family next door kept us entertained through the morning as we watched five adults struggle to assemble a tent – one of those inelegant Dick’s Sporting Goods specials, with 400 unmarked poles and multiple vestibules. By the time one of the teenagers fired up his remote-control car and piloted it up and down and up and down and up and down the little strip of grass between our campsites, it was time to go.

After our first night of camping, we realized that we had forgotten a few things (like towels for the shower – doh!), so we back-tracked to the Wal-Mart in Ogallala. It was about 10 a.m. by the time we actually got on the road. Sigh. Some things never change.

Also in the “some things never change” department: It was supposed to be a relatively short drive today – just about 4.5 to Frisco, Colo. But somehow 4.5 hours got stretched into 7; we rolled into Frisco at almost 5 p.m. I’m not sure how that happened. 

 We quickly found our beautiful campsite at Peak One Campground in White River National Forest. We visited the same campground in 2009 with the Stacks family! Remember?

After we got the campsite set up, Dad headed back into town for firewood. But a few minutes after he returned, the blue skies suddenly darkened, the wind picked up fast and hard, and the temperature, which had been a lovely 74 degrees, plummeted to about 50. We struggled to take the tent shelter down in the wind, and then scrambled to throw everything into the back of the car. In the meantime, our trash basket sailed four campsites away, and it took us a while to find it, wedged in a stand of pine trees. I tucked the camp chairs under the picnic table while Dad grabbed a couple of Peronis, and we ducked into the Teardrop, where we were perfectly cozy and comfortable. 

Then came the rain, and the hail. The downpour flooded our campsite and turned the entire campground into a swamp. It turns out the lowest ground in our campsite is right under the picnic table. From my snug little spot in the Teardrop, I could see the camp chairs swimming in a puddle of mud. 

We had planned to cook dinner over the campfire, but the fire ring is now under water. So, gang, what do we do when our campsite is flooded? 
 
A.    Head out in the rain and fire up the camp stove, anyway.
B.   Dig out a box of Triscuits and eat cheese and crackers in the car.
C.   Consult Google maps for the nearest Thai restaurant.
 
Yes! C! We found Summit Thai in Frisco and stuffed our faces with fried tofu, spicy chili chicken over rice and hot sake. Yum!
 
On the way back to the campground from town I noticed that it’s cold enough for my seat warmers and steering wheel heat to automatically activate; it’s in the 40s. Back at the campsite, I pulled on some warm clothes and crawled into bed. I’m working on the blog while dad is watching the fucking shit show of a presidential debate on his ipad and drowning his worries in a glass of scotch. 

Good night!