A Walk on the Quiet Side

The only camper in the entire campground, Lacey Keosauqua State Park.

Even with high temperatures near 60 degrees and lows above freezing, it was my wife who convinced me to hook up and take off for camping for a couple of nights. She deserves all the credit for another camping expedition this season for "Team Kepler," as she phrased it. It was a great idea, but it was Sunday, and we'd gone for an hour-long hike in our local county park, and then we'd gone out for lunch at a local Indian restaurant . . . and a couple of nights of solo camping sounded good but I was well exercised and fed and coasting into the afternoon.

But it was a good idea, and with the Green Goddess mostly set to go, I bestirred myself, packed a few clothes, planned a few meals, and realized or remembered that a couple of nights doesn't need much. I had been considering four local campgrounds and at the last moment chose Lacey Keosauqua State Park because it was close, clean, and had water in addition to electricity. Pulling into the campground and driving to the site I had chosen, leaves covered the road in places, and the late-fall stillness and the pungent, earthy smell of the fallen leaves immediately cast a tranquil spell upon me. I was the only camper in the park, and the silence was almost palpable, the late-afternoon sunlight streaming in beams through the fall air. That lambent silence welcomed me, and I was cleansed by streams of light and rivers of silence. I was home again.

I reached camp a little tired but chose a pull-through campsite that required only a touch of leveling; therefore, I didn't unhook but just plugged in and was ready to go. Sunset came early, so dinner was leftover kitcherie, warmed on the induction burner that sat on the trailer's front aluminum box, me wearing a headlamp because darkness had already fallen. I ate the thick dahl with chunks of sourdough bread, torn from a fresh, round loaf, while sitting by the campfire. Bed was early, which was fine with me because I had a good book.

I woke up early Monday morning, and my only full day at the campground was a beautiful day, blue sky and no wind. I wanted to hike in the morning along the Des Moines River, but I had never accessed the river trail from the campground. I did know where a spur trail from the road headed out toward the river and had been told it hooked up with the river trail, though. I opted for some adventurous exploring and took off.

Out in the woods on a beautiful fall morning.

Walking the trail was an enjoyable experience. The funny thing about Iowa forests is that they are not massive like in some areas of the United States. They are small, protected pockets of forest amid a landscape of farmland. The same is true here at Lacey Keosauqua, so as I headed down the trail, I quickly lost sight of all things manmade; however, listening closely, I could hear the occasional whine of tires on pavement in the distance or the ripping roar of a chainsaw. Around me, though, silence predominated, broken only by the sound of my feet scuffing leaves.

The entire forest floor was a carpet of browned leaves, mostly oak, maple, and hickory. Even the trail was covered with leaves, so following the trail was not a matter of keeping to the gravel path; rather, I had to discern the pathway by the geometry of its flat grade that cut and curved among the trees and the fall-colored carpet of leaves. Even within a few hundred yards of the roadway, the forest that I walked through was owned by the trees and its animal inhabitants. Nature predominated, with humankind a distance away--even if only a short distance. It was comforting how quickly the angles and textures of civilization disappear with just a thin border of woodscape.

The Des Moines River, about a mile below Ely Ford.

I meandered along, alone with only the sleeping trees and warm sunlight as my companions, and with such companions, I was happy to share the morning. The trail dropped down to the river after a near mile, and the blue water of the Des Moines flowed by, silent and powerful. The walk along the river was more flat, the trail more defined than had been the spur trail through the woods. It was easy to imagine walking such a trail in older times when the forest and meadows accompanied the river all the way to the mighty Mississippi. The town of Keosauqua was originally a river town, its commerce arriving by boat. Before that, the land belonged to times which lacked even the belching soot and steam whistles of the paddle boats.

When I came across another spur trail heading up the hill away from the river, I decided to follow it because following the river would take me a couple more miles downriver to Keosauqua. I was hoping the spur would take me to a picnic shelter area within the park near the campground, and I was right. I circled back to the campground and arrived back at camp, having hiked a little less than an hour and a half.

After a late lunch, I knew I could sit in camp and write and read, but the next day was my day to leave because a drop in temperature and cold rain were expected. I elected for a late afternoon walk along a portion of the lake trail below the campground, maybe just a mile. The trail was steep down to the lake area, so I walked carefully on the slippery leaves. Quickly I was surrounded by forest again, with the swampy edge of a bay of the lake below me.

As I walked the trail, I could see signs of the park's stewardship, orange flags marking young trees: "hackberry," "autumn flame maple," and "hickory." Sections of riprap on the trail filled in washes. Even with the park's parental influence, though, a couple of small trees had already fallen in the fall winds, and I had to duck beneath branches to continue on my way. An old stone bridge arched a larger ravine, and in the distance geese honked and splashed.

Lacey Lake

Arriving at the bath house for swimmers, I turned onto the asphalt and followed the road back to the campground. Just as I arrived at the campground entrance, I saw a herd of about eight deer, with one large, antlered buck among the does. As I walked into the campground, the herd gradually moved away, but not before I was able to enjoy the sight of these healthy animals enjoying the quiet time of year for the park, as was I.

Having had a late lunch, dinner that night was a simple snack of apples and walnuts, pecans, and pumpkin seeds--along with the last bit of a piece of carrot cake. I picked up camp to prepare for my morning departure, and then went to bed early again. I was eager to finish my book!

I enjoyed my two nights of fall camping. I enjoyed my walks on the quiet side. Rain and snow are expected, with lower temperatures, but who knows? I might get out again before winter truly arrives!

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Old Is Gold: Camping at Iowa's 2nd Oldest State Park

My latest camping trip could be considered a comedy of errors or the weird humor of the powers that be. What began as a 6-night camping trip with my wife--a reserved site and everything--ended up a 3-nighter by myself. What caused this shift in plans? How about a dangerous heat wave, our daughter and grandson's bad cold, a maybe-early/maybe-delayed Fed Ex shipment that needed a signature, and 12,000 bicyclists showing up in town for RAGBRAI? You know, the usual.

Finally I headed out of town to Lacey-Keosauqua State Park in SE Iowa, about twenty-five miles from our home. My wife and I had camped there about four years ago with our kids and grandkids, and I'd camped there a couple of times while passing through the area while bicycle camping, but we had never camped there with our tiny trailer.

A few weekends ago we took a Sunday drive to the campground to see what it looked like. Last year the park was closed for repairs and upgrades to the campsites. We were afraid the campground had been "modernized" like some--with a bulldozer to create the tract home, "Sewer Alley" look. Thank goodness that hadn't happened. Sewer had been upgraded, and a few more sites had been added to that area of the campground. On the non-sewer side, some tent sites had been converted to electric, and some of the old electric sites had been modified as pull-through sites rather than back-in. These modifications hadn't changed the feel of the campground, though.

Arriving around noon during the third day of our six-night reservation, I quickly set up camp, leaving the awning for Monday morning because a thunderstorm was forecast for that night. My main task for Sunday afternoon was to test the cellphone receptivity with and without our WeBoost signal amplifier. The signal was strong enough for Facetime (our hands-on signal strength test) and was stronger/faster with the WeBoost.

Yep, it was a nice rain that night, and Monday morning I put up the awning and then went for a walk. There is a path around the lake, for hiking only. I followed it for a while but decided to circle the lake early the next morning when it was cooler. Deciding to make Monday a rest day, I cooked myself a good lunch and then mostly relaxed and read after publishing a blog post about the recent heat wave. I didn't need the air conditioning on Monday, the fans being sufficient, and that night slept with the door closed and the fans off, with a low of 59 degrees.

During the night I had an interesting experience, a type I'd heard about but which had never happened to me. A rustling noise outside woke me, and I realized it was a raccoon, fiddling with the ice boxes. I yelled out the window to scare it off and then opened the door and turned on the outside light. There was no raccoon, but one ice box was open. The Yeti was safe and sound, but our cheap-o little Playmate box with a rotating roof-like lid was open. Yikes, I'd been burgled by a genius raccoon! It had actually pressed the unlock button on the handle and then rotated the lid till the box was open. Luckily, no essential food was inside. I had brought the smaller, less efficient box only to keep a couple of sodas, some cut watermelon, and some red grapes; I had transferred the remaining melon, grapes, and one soda to the Yeti before retiring for the night. That pesky raccoon did steal a potato I had baked at lunch that I was keeping for home fries the next morning, though. All that was left in the box were some muddy paw prints. Live and learn!

The next morning I was up early to take my walk, heading out at 7:45. The 2.1-mile trail around the lake was more primitive than the bicycle trails I usually ride--washed out in places, corrugated with roots and erosion, sometimes just a single track because of encroaching plants. I liked it, though. Lacey-Keosauqua is the second-oldest state park in Iowa, and in places the trail moved away from the lake and wound its way through stately trees and silent forest, providing a glimpse of what the terrain must have looked like before the arrival of plows. The path was very much for hiking only, much of it not bicycle accessible; in fact, bicycles are not allowed on the trail, probably for safety issues and also to lessen erosion.

Prior to my hike, I talked a bit to two motorcyclists who had set up their small tents and camped for the night. They were about my age--retirement age--and were having fun but weren't "let's tour the world" enthusiasts. We talked pannier camping--both bicycle and motor style--and I continued on my way to the trail. There is a tent-only primitive section in the campground near one trailhead to the lake trail. A car was parked at one campsite but no tent. I saw on closer examination as I walked by that two hammocks had been strung and that the occupants were still asleep. I walked by softly, glad for the campers that it had been cool enough to keep the mosquitoes down some, although I bet they had doped up with repellant prior to sleeping.

Walking the trail took an hour and twenty minutes, which included a lot of stops for enjoying the views and for taking photographs. One somewhat new experience in walking the trail was that I had to pay more attention to where I put my feet. If I were to have gawked too much, I would probably have fallen and possibly twisted an ankle--there were that many roots, stones, and uneven surfaces. I really enjoyed the experience, though. Have I really become that accustomed to flat, constructed walkways? I guess so! Walking the circuit also presented evidence of CCC and WPA construction that took place during the Great Depression. There is a bathhouse, stair systems, and several stone bridges along the trail's length. Different times and old construction methods built those structures to last--as they have.

After enjoying a cool night of sleeping with the vent, windows, and screen door for ventilation (but no fans), I woke up deciding to hike the lake trail again, even though it was the day to leave for home. I decided this time I'd have a more vigorous pace for exercise, taking fewer photographs. This cut twenty minutes off my hike to just an hour. I did stop to take a few photos, of course, but it was also good to try focusing more on the physicality of the hiking. It was a beautiful morning, though, so I certainly enjoyed the hike and didn't get all huffy and puffy in the cool of the early morning.

Arriving back at camp, I cooked myself a good breakfast, cleaned up camp a bit. I had dropped and put away the awning last night, so after breakfast I wrote some to finish this post, selecting photos and deciding at what point to finish this post's narrative. I think now's a good time. We're all familiar with the packing and hitching. It's been a pleasant time--in the best sense of the word--peaceful and relaxing.

Good news! Arriving home, my wife and I have reserved four nights next week at the same site.

I hope you've all found a nice spot to camp and relax after the heat spell. Having a quiet adventure isn't all that bad!

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Bend in the River Tiny Trailer Basecamp

Have you ever had one of those camping excursions where everything went well? No matter which aspect of camping you considered, the final analysis was, "Yes, couldn't ask for more!" Camping at Lacey Keosauqua State Park in SE Iowa was that experience for my wife and me. Early morning walks around the lake, new equipment, great food, mild summer weather--everything went well. We could have stayed there comfortably for a very long time. It wasn't that things usually go wrong on our camping trips or that we tend to focus on the negative. It was more that during this trip we were in the zone--comfortable and competent.

My wife Sandy likes to wake up in the morning and exercise before going to work. She especially likes the camping experience of having nature right outside the door and not needing to get in the car and drive to a scenic hiking spot. Lacey Keosauqua State Park has a hiking trail around the lake that's a touch over two miles in length, and Sandy and I hiked it in the early mornings.

We did put on bug repellent for chiggers and flying critters. I even was bitten this trip and joked to Sandy that these wild chiggers were much more aggressive than those city chiggers. Usually I'm not the target of bug attacks, but I guess it is August, and the insects all experienced in their people skills by now.

This introduces the next addition to our camp life: the Clam Quick Set Escape Shelter. Lacey was closed last year for repairs, so when we visited a few weeks ago to determine if the park was still the way we liked it, we met a couple who had a bright red Clam shelter. Sandy fell in love with it, so we bought one--brown, not red. Setting it up was easy (and so was breaking it down), and Sandy established her office in the shelter. Before, she had worked all day inside the tiny trailer, and even with a window and screen door open, there was still a real sense of being inside a small space. The Clam allowed Sandy to work outside and not feel isolated. She worked every day in her outside mobile office.

I also set up the kitchen in the shelter, which was a new experience that required arranging our cooking equipment somewhat differently, but worked well. At first, I was entering and leaving the shelter many times to get a spice from the camper or something from an ice box. Finally, everything was moved into the shelter so that I could work inside, surrounded by everything I needed. The shelter became an extra room, allowing us to be outside yet also allowing us protection from the sun and insects.

One of the reasons people choose to camp with tiny trailers is that more time is spent outside instead of inside. Adding a large shelter to our camp gear helped us on this trip to enjoy the summer experience of camping yet still have some respite from the bugs and sun. I think if we camp with our grandkids, it would be easy for me to set up a cot in the tent for sleeping at nights. Since we set the shelter up on the gravel instead of the grass, I think it was easier to manage the insect problem.

I brought my bicycle along this trip and was able to explore the park better. While Sandy was working, I took rides, discovering trails and side roads that I'd never been on before. When Sandy and I return to camp at Lacey again, we'll be able to vary our hiking or bicycling destinations, especially in the fall when the colors will be so beautiful.

The trips for me this time were short, all around 2-6 miles, but there is also a loop route I can take some time that travels through the park, out of the park through the back gate to the town of Keosauqua, and back to camp via the main entrance of the park, probably around twelve miles. This is part of my focus this year on using our tiny trailer as a basecamp for bicycle day rides. Although my rides this trip were "day rides" only in the technical sense that they weren't multi-day (or night rides), Sandy and I are starting to establish a new rhythm for our camping that accommodates our individual needs and interests.

My two-mile excursion was one of the more fun ones. Leaving the campground, the paved road to the historic Mormon crossing of the Des Moines River is only a mile away--all steeply downhill to river level. It's a nice ride, coasting that whole mile, except for that thought in the back of the mind, "Uphill all the way home!" It was, too! But I just geared down and enjoyed the quiet exercise. It's easy to see why that spot on the river was chosen as a ford. Ely Creek empties into the river at that spot. There are no bluffs, and the river is wide with a more gentle current. Along the river both upstream and downstream from the park at the crossing site, a hiking trail follows the winding river. Even though it will take a mile ride in the car to get to the park, it does provide an additional hiking route for Sandy and me.

I really feel that Sandy and I are beginning to establish a camping lifestyle that allows us to work, play, and be near family while camping. We plan to camp again at Lacey soon. It's quiet during the weekdays, close to the grandkids, has adequate cellphone receptivity for Sandy's work (with a signal booster), and has a diversity of activities for us to enjoy. We're feeling right at home in our home away from home.

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One Warm Day for Camping Is All (or the Least) You Need

Using the word "warm-up" in February in Iowa is probably the most scandalous word choice one can make as winter continues to dump its frigid bounty upon the Midwest. However, there was one day this week when the temperatures rose to near fifty degrees, and there was one afternoon when the sun was shining and the wind had not yet begun to howl. I chose to hitch up and make my way to Lacey Keosauqua State Park, arriving at about noon on a Monday and leaving at around noon the next day--thereby missing wind, rain, freezing rain, sleet, and snow. I'm pretty proud of my timing and also glad for another chance to check out the rig and get everything ready for when better weather arrives. This trip continues my plan to take advantage of winter getaways and to also use them as shakedown excursions, providing an opportunity for both some recreation and also gearing up.

Lacey Keosauqua State Park is the second-oldest state park in Iowa. It's twenty-five miles from my home, and it's also located right next to the little town of Keosauqua, the Van Buren County seat and also where I was a junior-senior high school teacher for twenty-one years. Van Buren County is rural, known for its villages, rolling hills, and the Des Moines River. Keosauqua is the county's largest town with a population of around a thousand. I have many good memories of this area and its families, and with the recent years, I also have many good memories of camping and hiking in the region. Twenty-four hours of hiking the area pushed away the winter doldrums and provided a glimpse of better weather that will eventually arrive--even if it arrives in fits of wind, freezing rain, and mud. 

Although there were several campsites available with the warmer weather, I chose one near the front of the campground that was snow-free and level, allowing me to hook up to electricity, to be near the central water faucet, and to not have to level and unhook my Airstream Basecamp from my Nissan Pathfinder. Because little camp set-up was required, I was able to take a couple of hikes that afternoon, a quick one prior to lunch and then a longer hike after lunch. For this trip, I continued my overnighter practice of not using the 12-volt refrigerator but just using a small ice chest cooled by a couple of reuseable freezer blocks. My main meals? Leftover lasagna!

Hiking mostly on paved roads was okay for this trip, allowing me to avoid mud. About a quarter mile down the main road through the park is a paved road to one of the park's shelters. Since it's not a through road, I was able to walk down the center of the roadway, at times my face turned upward to the sun and my eyes closed. I was able to sit on a limestone wall at the shelter's loop-around and enjoy the silence of the still-sleeping forest trees. I did wander down one trail, though, that was covered with fallen leaves and not muddy, walking a couple of hundred yards to a bluff where I could see the frozen Des Moines River below, a sheet of unmoving ice not anywhere near the spring thaw. A bit of silence, a bit of exercise, and a bit of sunshine without much wind were my rewards for the day and this overnight camp trip. Well worth the effort!

The night's temperatures dropped down to twelve degrees Fahrenheit, but the Basecamp's Truma heating system worked well. I slept warm, enjoying the luxury of the camping trailer and looking forward to another hike the next day. Since the weather was still somewhat uncertain and the wind was picking up, even though it would be a warm day--up to 50 degrees--I decided to head home instead of dealing with wind and with the possible early arrival of rain. I did take a morning hike, though, checking out the other spots in the campground that I could have claimed if I'd been willing to deal with a bit more snow and ice. I was happy with the spot I'd chosen, though, because the site allowed me south and east sunlight for the camper. In cold weather, I like to be able to exit the camper to sunlight, not freezing shadow. 

I enjoyed the drive home on Highway 1, the state highway that I had commuted for twenty-one years as a teacher. A few views have changed with buildings new or buildings demolished; however, for the most part the unfolding vistas were the same, evoking memories and also providing ever-present perspectives of rural beauty--sleeping fields awaiting the spring and strings of trees that followed the creeks. My greatest joy was in getting out even for a short while to enjoy the beauty of the natural world and to engage in those eternal rhythms governed by the laws of nature, the hand of humankind less heavy upon the land. One warm day was all I needed for camping, and I'm glad I took advantage of the opportunity to head out. We should all enjoy those moments of joy that come our way, and we shouldn't feel shy to contrive them when necessary. Being the only camper in the campground and seeing the sun rise in the eastern sky, the bare limbs of dormant trees silhouetted by the pristine light, that was an experience worth the effort--another small excursion in this new camping season, another joyful moment to commune with the great outdoors.

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A Basecamp for Fall Hiking

Early morning after the rain

After a night of rain and wind, dawn eases into a day of bright, crisp skies, the still air permeated with the earthy smells of leaf duff while fall colors carpet the trails with reds, yellows, and browns. Autumn is a beautiful time to hike, and Lacey-Keosauqua State Park in southeast Iowa provides some excellent hiking opportunities--a two-mile hike around the lake, unmarked trails above the lake that lead off onto the shoulders of the hills around the lake, and the River Trail hike that skirts the Des Moines River. I basecamped at the state park's campground for four nights, hiking every day and enjoying the beauty of the fall weather.

Lacey-Keosauqua State Park is close to home, and I've camped here many times. Although there are road-bicycling opportunities, the trails are for hiking only; therefore, this trip I left my folding Montague Allston at home because I wanted more time among the trees and on the trails. Especially after a rain, walking the fall trails is a pleasure. I can walk in silence because the wet leaves don't crunch with each footstep, and in that silence the small sounds of forest life are amplified. I feel myself merging with the sounds, pausing to be part of the silence and then moving along the trails that follow old deer paths, keeping to an even elevation that laterally follow the ridge lines which conserves energy, minimizing climbs and descents. 

A Basecamp for my old bones

Lichen and leaves on a stone bridge

My attention unconsciously narrows, and I find myself framing smaller images when I choose to photograph something, a single tree or stone bridge, lichen and leaves, a ribbon of river slicing across the vision. It's good to be alone, although it would have been equally enjoyable to share my hiking time with my wife as my companion--a different hike but also unifying. As it happened, I was hiking alone, yet not alone. It's difficult to describe, but I felt at home, even though I wasn't at home. I had traveled to this state park to spend time camping in my new Airstream Basecamp and hiking through the woods, and I was doing this, remembering the trails and re-discovering what I had forgotten. 

My brother passed away three quarters of a year ago, and I thought of how he would have enjoyed the walk around the lake. He would have enjoyed being out among the oaks and maples; he would have enjoyed sharing the moment with me when a buck leaped across the trail and up the hill, full-muscled with the fall rut season, its antlers gleaming pale among the darker fall colors. Mostly, though, I just walked and then stopped for a time, walked again and stopped again, enjoying each moment and allowing myself to ease into each moment--and maybe even forgetting time and just being in the woods, as simple as sunshine on a green leaf.

Earlier Keosauqua times with the "Green Goddess"

Sitting by the campfire every night, I read by "Kindle light" or with my headlamp from a paper book. For three of the four nights I enjoyed the early darkness by enjoying the fire, eating a dinner snack of saltine crackers and almond butter along with an apple. The fourth night was windy, so I basecamped it inside my trailer, cozy but lacking the flickering reassurance and the smoky musk of the fire. This trip I also had decided to cook more, so for lunches I whipped up baking powder biscuits, open-faced sandwiches, and baked vegetables. I used the Basecamp's kitchen more, accustoming myself to cooking inside and reassuring myself that it was possible to do so and not make a mess. I did cook outside some on an aluminum table I set up next to the trailer, utilizing its outdoor, 20-amp outlet to plug in a toaster oven and Instant Pot. Mostly I used these inside, though, making sure, of course, that the Instant Pot was vented outside because I was keeping an eye on the condensation level. I found that the Airstream Basecamp, larger than the tiny, standy trailer I camped in last year, was more comfortable, providing more room and amenities, even while winterized. That doesn't mean, of course, that I wasn't happy as a clam when out camping with our first trailer, an RTTC Polar Bear. Both provided a warm, comfortable haven from which I could take off for a day of hiking and then return to relax and gather my strength for the next day.

Just a walk through the woods

Being a loving and responsible member of my family, sometimes I find myself worrying, feeling the burden of these perilous, pandemic times with their health and economic challenges. I feel physically every hard knock my family takes, teeter on every precipice they have to negotiate. Being out in the woods and moving, hiking up the rises and carefully down descents slippery with leaves glistening with rainfall from the night before, just being more in the active moment helps me find a more stable perspective. I realize one situation I'm worrying about won't come to a decision point for another six weeks, that some decisions aren't mine to make. The best approach to many challenges is to act when the moment is right and to not dwell on negative possibilities prior to the cusp of that moment. I think hiking in the woods helps remind me of this. Nature reminds me that pivotal moments exist within larger rhythms and cycles, and that worrying about those pivotal moments doesn't hurry them along; the time to act is when the time is ripe. We have to learn to enjoy each moment and maybe to come to realize and live the ultimate truth--that we tend to superimpose "moments" upon cosmic reality, that we our plans should make life simpler, not more complex. We should make plans and then put them aside until the time of action arrives.

Watching the river flow, Ely Ford, LKSP

I'm trying to understand why I enjoy camping in the woods, why this state park draws me with its simple joys. The irony is that if I think too much about why I like to camp, I'm missing the point: thinking about being in the moment isn't being in the moment! My "moment of being" right now, though, is a writing moment, not a hiking moment. I'm at home, next to my wood stove that is crackling quietly as the fire cools. It's windy outside and dawn still awaits. The whipping moan of the wind wakes me early, and so I write in the quiet of the night, dawn a future moment in time, my reality right now the dark wind outside and my flow of thoughts and words. 

This is my reality right now, my remembrance of the fall woods and the joy of being well and hiking on a brisk fall day. My moments of serenity and light become like a string of pearls, unified into one single life, one of many lives and many shining moments. Camping in the "basecamp" of my body, I sit beside a campfire, night having arrived. Brilliant is the light, unfathomable is the darkness. Let the fire die down. I'll add more wood while it lasts, happy and warm in the moment.

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The Agony and the Ecstasy of Campground Reservations

Lacey-Keosauqua State Park, a favorite destination, no matter the weather

I'm reserving campsites ahead of time this year, more than the last couple of years. Part of the reason is that more local county campgrounds are now affiliated with MyCountyParks.com here in Iowa, but that's not the whole story. My wife and I are also happy to be able to reserve our favorite campsites in federal, state, and county parks in the area. The "happy" is the "ecstasy" of this article's title. The agony? Finding that the reservation process means that it's almost impossible to reserve a site for two weeks--or even one week. Too many people reserve sites for just weekends.

Bentonsport Campground, on the Des Moines River

Let me provide an example. My wife are going to camp locally in late August for at least a couple of weeks, possibly longer. At Lacey-Keosauqua State Park, we were able to reserve our favorite site, #53, for ten days--but only for two, five-day stretches. Yep, Sunday through Thursday nights times two. The Friday and Saturday nights between we've reserved a site at Bentonsport Campground, a local county park nine miles away from Keo SP on the Des Moines River.

The two-night weekend break at Bentonsport will be great; it's a beautiful site my wife has never camped at before. However, we couldn't camp there for a couple of weeks because the cellphone signal strength is low, so my wife couldn't work during the week. Therefore, we will be moving and setting up camp three times during our sojourn. Since I'll be turning our campsite into "Mobile Office 1," the set-up and break-down is a bit more than I'd like.

I think it will be a nice experience, though, being out and away with my wife for an extended time (even though we'll be popping by our house for ice and fresh groceries a couple of times). I suppose weekend reservations are why a lot of people sign up as early as possible for campsites: they either want particular weekends, or they want to reserve a longer time before the weekends get taken.

One reason for reserving a campsite ahead of time is that some sites are better than others--more secluded, having a better view, or in the summer campsites with shade. These reasons tend to go away once the busy camping season ends. During the off-season, many of the parks revert to first come, first served (or walk-in) protocols. I like that because the fewer campers make it easy to find a good spot that I can camp at for a longer time. Over time I hope to get more adept at locating and securing great campsites. One of the pleasures of camping, though, is showing up to a totally new park, cruising around, and then finding a good campsite.

I guess I'm just a low-key explorer, blazing trails that many have traveled before.

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Tiny Trailer 10-Day Basecamp:Keosauqua

My wife and I are camping for 10 days at Lacey-Keosauqua State Park, the longest we've ever been out with the camper, and the longest we've ever stayed at one place. We arrived at about four o'clock in the afternoon on Labor Day Monday and set up camp: trailer, utilitent and portable toilet, and the screen room. We saved the trailer awning and our signal booster antenna for the next morning. Now we have no more setting up or breaking down for over a week. That's why I used "basecamp" in this title of this post; we plan to stay here and relax for a while. However, our camp will be the center of a number of diverse activities.

My wife will work, but she and I will still take time to hike. I will take day rides with my bicycle. We brought good, healthy food so we can eat well during our stay. Halfway through our stay, we'll head home to check the house, renew our cooler ice, and buy some fresh food to bring back to camp.

Today on the second day of our excursion, we're taking it easy. The temperature will top out at ninety degrees today, and then the highs will be significantly lower for the duration of our stay. We're relaxing, enjoying our air conditioner, and just experiencing what it's like to have a living space outdoors--and I say "outdoors" because I am currently in our screened room, using the shade and our box fan to to stay comfortable. One of the realities of camping this season has been the pernicious gnats or tiny flies. The screened room provides a haven away from the pesky insects, which has been a real relief.

Later in the afternoon: It's 4:30, and after a quick trip back home for a computer connector left behind and then an ice cream, we are in our camper, using the air conditioner and, once again, balancing off-gassing chemical smells with the need for cool air. We're hitting somewhere in the middle--neither quite cool enough or with quite the fresh air we'd like. We're getting by, though. My wife had a good day with her work, and I completed our basecamp set-up and had some good writing time. We hope it's cool enough to sleep well tonight (last night was), and tomorrow should be a whole new day of quiet interaction. And I hope to have some fun cooking!

Bronze statue at the state park, honoring the CCC workers

Keeping with the plan to use our camp for different fun activities, on Wednesday, Sandy and I first took a walk to a park shelter and picnic area, somewhere around three miles. We followed the asphalt road, which was less buggy, turning off onto the road to the shelter, a more more quiet and tree-lined experience for us. I was raised camping in California's Sierra Nevada mountains, so the experience of walking down a Midwest road or trail where the deciduous trees form a green canopy over our walkway is a view that I never tire of. I always feel like I am in the nurturing embrace of nature, whether surround by the greens of spring and summer or the bright fiery colors of fall. Even in winter, the stark, bare branches are beautiful in their sleep. Trees are a miracle, some tall and timeless.

Lunch was fun to cook, with me using our new Clam Quick-Set shelter to be out of the sun and away from the insects. It was enjoyable to work in our new camp configuration. One thing I did in the afternoon was to order a 25-foot 30 amp extension cord and an pig-tail adaptor to 15 amps. That way I will be able to use the extension cord while cooking and use two cooking appliances at once: Instapot pressure cooker, induction burner, and/or toaster oven. That should allow for less cordage!

When Sandy got to work after lunch, I went for a bike ride for a little less than two hours, traveling around ten miles and seeing parts of the park I had not seen before. Buildings and bridges of Lacey-Keosauqua State Park were built between 1933 and 1942 by the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression. Lacey-Keo is Iowa's second state park, established in 1921.

CCC hiking trail bridge

The first part of my ride was to the Lake Sugema day access area, a bit over four miles round trip. That wasn't long enough, so I also traveled the park road northeast out of the park, past Ely Ford, which was three miles one way. It was good to know the my ten miles that day will also allow me to ride a loop, taking the park road northeast to Highway J40, through the hamlet of Pittsburg and on to Keosauqua, then taking Highway 1 to the park's main entrance and back to camp, a 10-mile day ride.

Ann-Margret, Pat Boone, State Fair, 1962

The little hamlet of Pittsburg is connected to author Phil Stong and his novel State Fair (1932), later made into several movies and musicals over the years--one movie with Pat Boone and Ann-Margret (1962), the first movie with Will Rogers (1933). Evidently, the novel (it's been many years since I've read it) contained "loose" behavior of the farmer's daughter at the state fair, and the novel was banned for twenty-five years from the local library in Keosauqua. Stong said, "Iowa generally felt that Iowa girls wouldn't do such things." According to my research, the novel--which out-sold all expectations--had a dark side that contrasted city and rural farm life. It must have struck a chord of honesty in the readers. The movies, of course, sweetened up the plot and ending.

Wednesday night was cooler, so Sandy and I tossed an extra blanket on in the middle of our sleep. I woke up early and decided to provide a fun start to the day, building a campfire and then baking potatoes for a later home fries and scrambled egg breakfast. Needless to say, we ate lunch a little later than usual! (I am glad to note that over the night, a raccoon did not open the cooler and steal the baked potatoes.) The toaster oven baked our red potatoes beautifully, and the induction burner provided the heat for our potatoes and eggs. The outside kitchen seems to really settling into an easy set-up. Before lunch we took a short walk but found the gnats more lively in the heat.

Our mobile office

We have found the Clam shelter to be an effective space for Sandy to work. In the late afternoons, we mount two or three wind screens to block the sun. Then if necessary, we use a box fan to move air. The result is an effective work space for Sandy. For me, I use the space for both computer work and cooking. It's great to be out of the sun and away from the bugs. I've been inside the shelter today with Sandy, cooking, writing, and reading. It's supposed to rain later in the week, so I will probably add the guy ropes to the tent before then. I have it staked now, but the guys should stabilize the structure in case of thunderstorm winds. Of course, if the forecast is for severe winds, then I'll probably put up the shelter and the trailer awning.

Friday I took Sandy home for one night. She hadn't slept well and just needed a night home in bed. We restocked groceries, washed a couple of loads of camp laundry, iced up the coolers, watered the garden, and I headed back to camp. Sandy will be coming Saturday afternoon, catching a ride with her daughter and the grandkids. The kids will have plenty of company here at camp. I arrived back at camp to a campground filling up with the weekend crowd--lots of big rigs and happy kids!

13-foot Scamp shows up Friday evening

I met a couple from Iowa City that arrived with a 13-foot Scamp. It's a pretty trailer that meets their needs. They've traveled more than we have, and have taken the trailer to Texas to visit kids and to camp. Their Scamp has a bed/table in back, a stove and sink, and a small sofa in front that can also be a bed. They did not want a shower/toilet up front. I did notice, though, that they had a Luggable Loo inside. Most of the rigs here now are large American models with slide-outs, pulling by large American pick-ups. I'm sure they are comfortable, but I just don't want to tow something that big. I also like the smaller trailers that because of their size have access to more unique or natural campsites.

Saturday night brought rain, and even though the rain and thunder kept us up, we enjoyed the experience of being together with the sound of the rain falling upon the roof . . . in this case a peaceful sound since the storm was not violent or excessively windy. Our awning (we use large suction cups, adjustable tent poles, and a white vinyl tarp) held up well, as did our new screen room. It rained quite a lot, and the next morning after checking the trailer, I was pleased to find that a couple of leaks that we had last year are now fixed, thanks to my builder/carpenter son-in-law.

On Sunday we received a second and unexpected visit from our grandchildren and their parents, which was fun. While I was swinging my granddaughter (age 4), she said, "Grandpa, Mom and Dad are walking the dogs, Grandma and Jake are back at camp building a fire, why don't you and me take off and go to a playground all for ourselves?" I told her we could do that sometime, but the playground we were at was the only one nearby. She said, "Okay!" with a smile. Doesn't get much more cute than that!

Sandy and I decided, though, after the family left, that with more rain coming and then heat up to ninety degrees--and with another phone call from more of the family--that we'd pack up and head home. It had been a great trip with hot and cool weather, rain and shine, solitude and family, and work and play. There was a sense, though, that some family needs, and especially the heat and bugs coming after the rains meaning high humidity, that heading home and regrouping was a good idea.

I write this at dawn as the work week begins. Although our 10-day camping trip ended up being six days, I didn't want to change the title or the dream. As I've said before, flexibility is a big part of a "perfect" camping trip, and, after all, ending our camping trip early just means we can begin planning our next trip!

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(Note: As the content for Green Goddess Glamping evolves, sometimes content focus will dictate that articles will be posted on some Facebook groups and not others. Articles on Dutch oven cooking, portable toilets, or bicycle day rides, for instance, could find posts in different groups. The best way to ensure that you are receiving all articles is to subscribe to follow this blog by email notifications.)

Finding a New Angle When Camping

I just published on my writing blog an article about how to write about a camping experience from different angles. After finishing the article, I realized that the article wasn't just about writing, though; it was also about experience in general, about ways to get more enjoyment out of camping. In this article, I focus on my camping experience rather than my writing experience (if I can separate the two).

Because of the pandemic, I haven't been camping so much. After all, for most of the spring the campgrounds were shut down! Now, though, the campgrounds are open, and I've decided to get out for more local camping, as heat and humidity allow. Lots of local camping means repeated stays at familiar campgrounds. Is it possible for those campgrounds to become too familiar? Will camping at the same old place lose its charm?

The truth is we don't have to repeat ourselves. It doesn't have to be the "same old same old." We can approach each camping trip with a fresh perspective or with new goals. What occurred to me was that any experience has three aspects or "angles" of approach, our personal experience, the dynamics of the experience, and the geography of the experience. I've heard this described as the perceiver, the process perception, and the object of perception. Any camping trip can focus on just one aspect of the experience . . . or can focus on all three. A camping trip doesn't just have to be about the drive, setting up camp, and what I did. I have more options, and looking through past articles in Green Goddess Glamping, I can see examples of where different camping trips have had different "themes," one might say.

I'm camping right now at Lake Darling State Park, in SE Iowa. I've camped quite a few times at Lake Darling, both as a tiny trailer camper and as a bicycle camper. I've been on hikes, ridden my bike, enjoyed the camp routines such as cooking, took in the beauty of sunrise and sunset. It's a beautiful park, one that my wife and I continue to enjoy, yet much of the park is familiar. Another interesting aspect of this park is that the phone connectivity is so low here that I'm pretty much off the communications grid. I can usually send a text message with the help of a signal booster, but three words still don't get delivered until about a minute passes.

I've come to this state park with the idea of resting, reading, and writing. Because the park is only seventeen miles from home, and because there have been some home circumstances to help with, of my three full days here, I will have traveled back home for a time all three days. The stay is still a good one, though, and I'm seventy-five percent of the way through my time here. I'm still getting rest and enjoying the quiet, having deliberately chosen a more quiet campsite that is not on the lake. My "angle" for this trip is obviously with an inner emphasis, but I'm still being active, both here and at home.

Lake Darling campsite, July 2020

What I'm saying is that I'm not becoming my own camping recreation director with a new tour or experience lined up for every camping hour; rather, I'm reminding myself each day I camp of three possible approaches to the day: Do I want "me time," do I want to do something interesting and fun, or do I want to learn more about where I'm camping. It's that three-in-one approach. I'm at the lake, and I can spend my time just soaking up the peace and quiet. On the other hand, I can rent a canoe and explore the lake, enjoying the exercise and my (minimal) canoeing skills. If I've brought my tree and bird identification books, I can gain a deeper appreciation and understanding of the natural world that surrounds me. It's a way to increase my immersion in the camping experience, even when I'm camping in a familiar place.

Personal Experience

When I arrive at a campsite, especially when I camp alone, sometimes the inner landscape of the mind melds with the outer natural beauty of the river or lake, the woods. Sometimes this leads to insights which I share in my articles.

Photo by Mark Busha, tiny trailer camper, in a remote location in Utah

One good example is my article about how being alone doesn't mean one is lonely, that solitude is not synonymous with loneliness. In "Traveling Solo: Being Alone Is Not the Same Thing As Being Lonely," which I wrote while camping, I focused on my inner experience while out camping. I wrote about how camping in nature can lead not to a sense of loneliness and isolation but rather to an experience of connectedness and integration.

The Process of Experiencing

Sometimes the process of camping dominates; perhaps it dominates most of the time if we let it. Towing the trailer, backing the trailer, setting up camp, and camping out provide many opportunities for writing. My "How-To" and "Reviews" tab links are filled with articles that relate to the process of camping, everything from how to stabilize the trailer to campfire cooking. Articles about equipment, how it works and how well it works are always popular and fun to write about.

Jomeokee Park, North Carolina

When I write about the process of camping, there is always that journaling aspect: I did this and then that. Photographs fit into the narrative, which adds to the enjoyment of the camping experience. Many of my camping blogs are about the Green Goddess Expeditions. Since the Green Goddess is my first camper, many of my articles have been about what I needed to learn in order to enjoy the trailer camping experience. One good example of a narrative of a camping weekend is my article "Unknowingly, I Tiny-Trailer Camp-Crash Woodstock," where I wrote about stopping for a quiet weekend at a private campground while traveling the Carolinas, and then discovering that a private camping group had organized a music concert for the weekend. A fun experience!

What We Experience

We show up to a campground for a few days, but the land has its reality outside our experience, it has its geography, its biology, its history. That is a subject for experiencing and writing about that is a source of great possibility. The more times I camp at a particular place, the more I learn about that place.

Statue at the west entrance to Lacey-Keosauqua

Lacey-Keosauqua State Park is a good example of experiencing a particular place. My wife and I have camped there many times, and I have quite a few articles about our "expeditions" there. As time passes and the number of visits to a campground add up, I think the experience becomes more "vertical" than "horizontal." We go deeper into a place and learn its secrets, something I wrote about in the article "It's Not Just How Many Miles or Places." Delving into the details can be a joy. What specific variety of oak is that? What variety of goldenrod? And since I'm writing during the Midwest summer: What exactly is a "chigger"?

Bur oak sketch

These three approaches to camping aren't mutually exclusive; there is no separation--one includes all. We can choose our emphasis, though, and as long as we don't become our very own nemesis, the autocratic recreation director saying, "You will engage in these activities exactly as planned, and you will like it!" then reminding ourselves that we don't always have to approach camping from same angle is a good thing. We can get out of our heads, we can change our activities, we can include a little local history. Habit can be reassuring, but it can also become an ever-deepening rut.

From the Gutenberg e-book

In Henry David Thoreau's narrative Canoeing in the Wilderness, he shifts seamlessly from his own personal experience to the process of canoeing to the beauty of the woods and river. He writes with growing awareness during the book of how he, even though an experienced naturalist, is not as knowledgeable in the woods as his American Indian guide Joseph Polis. Thoreau creates an enjoyable read as he narrates his experiences of canoeing the river rapids and the turbulent lakes in Maine. He writes about setting up camp and how his guide knows just the right place to be not too far from the river yet still dry and relatively free of mosquitoes. The physical environment is described with great regard and attention to detail, as seen in this passage describing canoeing down a branch of Webster Stream.

"As the shores became flatter with frequent sandbars, and the stream more winding in the lower land near the lake, elms and ash trees made their appearance; also the wild yellow lily, some of whose bulbs I collected for a soup. On some ridges the burnt land extended as far as the lake. This was a very beautiful lake, two or three miles long, with high mountains on the southwest side. The morning was a bright one, and perfectly still, the lake as smooth as glass, we making the only ripple as we[152] paddled into it. The dark mountains about it were seen through a glaucous mist, and the white stems of canoe birches mingled with the other woods around it. The thrush sang on the distant shore, and the laugh of some loons, sporting in a concealed western bay, as if inspired by the morning, came distinct over the lake to us."

Early morning fog

Whether we are backpackers, tent campers, big or tiny trailer campers, whether on an expedition into the Maine woods in 1857 or on a weekday romp to the local state park, we can all be explorers of the three-in-one nature of life. We can have our inner selves up uplifted, we can enjoy the dynamism of our activity, and we can appreciate the rich beauty of our world. As I finish writing this, I'm going to take a walk on this foggy morning. After yesterday's rain, this morning is warm and misty. A walk along the lake is just what I need.

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