You guys. I just got back (well, 16 hours ago) from the best camping trip I have taken in ages. At least a year. Probably. So, as I do, I’m gonna write about it and then share a bunch of mediocre photos with dumb captions, plus some videos with factually-challenged narration.
So this camping trip was a series of things almost going totally wrong but not quite. I don’t wanna go on too long about it, but here’s the summary. We wanted to go to Shenandoah National Park, which has a mix of reservable and non-reservable spots. We figured that if we got there reasonably early (like ~4pm) we wouldn’t have a problem getting one of the non-res spots.
When we finally got to the park, we were informed that all the spots were taken and that had we wanted a spot, we’d needed to have gotten there by 8am. The ranger helpfully pointed us in the direction of the nearest alternate campsite, which turned out to be a sub-KOA style place. We needed to do better than that. Armed with three smart phones and an indominable desire to not have to return to DC in disgrace, we began contacting every park we could locate, check every camping related website, calling and leaving messages (?) and generally trying to avoid freaking out. Which we did, more or less.
Every campsite was full (shock!) but one woman suggested that Spruce Knob Lake was always the last to fill up and we should just try going there. There’s no phone or anything at this site, so our only hope was just to drive there and cross our fingers. Luckily, we still had cell-service, we were able to get directions.
I was navigating, and I.. well, I may have told my friends that it was only an hour and a half away. Google says its two and a half. I think reality may have been closer to three. But it was our only hope. So we drive and we drive and eventually cross into West Virginia. (Being the awesome DJ that I am, I arrange to have “Country Roads” playing as we cross the border. Sigh…)
Eventually we get there, but it’s kinda sketchy cause the last twenty miles or so are on a gravelly, bendy, tiny, sorta-scary road. We get to the spot: hooray :). We do a loop around the campsite and find that none of the spots are actually available: yarooh :(. The ranger, who is super nice and admires the our tattoos and shows us his (which include a devil-baby, an anarchy symbol, and a lot of other thematically similar stuff) tells us there aren’t any spots, but if we come back tomorrow at noon, he can help us out. One of the camping groups had reserved two spots but was only using one of them to store a boat. Being the smart folks we are, we suggest that we just ask the people if we can have their second spot since they’re just parking a car there. The ranger thinks this is a fine idea, and even adds to our story that we’re nearly out of gas and hopelessly fragile city-folk who couldn’t possibly last the night on our own. The other people cautiously agree, though they seem weirdly convinced that this is somehow not in their favor. Oh well. We have a camping site! So we set up, commenced with the drinking of beers and counting of blessings, ate dinner, and hit the sack.
My camera broke sometime on Sunday evening, so I don’t have pictures of the last day, which is a bummer because we went to a cool little swimming hole and saw some other neat things, but ooh well. If anyone has a pocket-sized digital camera they wanna get rid of, let me know.