The Ascape ST That Camped Beside Us

I didn’t know that the Aliner travel trailer company makes any kinds of trailers other than their foldable Aliners; however, this weekend I saw my first Ascape. The Ascape ST I saw was a canned ham style of tiny trailer. Personally, I like the canned ham design because it saves a lot of space in the back with that straight line.

Marty and Julie bought their Ascape used in 2018. My wife and I met the couple at Lacey-Keosauqua State Park when they set up next to us. This trip was their second trip since they had bought the trailer. Their tiny trailer camping experience was much the same as my wife and mine when we started out. Like us, they started small with the Ascape with a used unit in order to ease into camping, Without a large investment, they had a chance to find out what they liked and what they didn’t, but worked for them and what didn’t work for them when it came to camping.

They bought their 2018 Ascape for $14,000, having waited a year before buying, hoping the owner would come down on the price . . . and the owner did! Their Ascape has a bed and table, a shower and bathroom arrangement with a pullout toilet, a propane range, and a propane refrigerator. It has the basics.

One thing the couple really likes is the step down at the back of the trailer floor, which allows them to easily stand while they’re cooking or working. It’s a nice arrangement; the inside is small but well thought out and livable. Like us, Marty and Julie like to spend a lot of time outside when camping, so the inside is more for sleeping or for inclement weather.

It’s always fun to meet tiny trailer owners or little trainer trailer owners when camping. The camaraderie of shared interest and shared lifestyles always create a warmer campground and good memories. My wife and I mentioned to Marty and Julie that if my wife weren’t working, then a small space like the Ascape or like our original Green Goddess RTTC teardrop trailer would still work for us just fine. We love our little Bambi Airstream; it really is the ultimate in many ways. However, we still appreciate the joy and the adventures of tiny trailer living.

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Lake Red Rock, Iowa: Eleven Days in a Little Trailer

"Where have you been, and what have you been doing?" you might ask, since it's been about nine months since I've last posted. The short answer is childcare for grandchildren and other family business. However (and my wife and I are so happy that the however has finally arrived), the kids are now back in school and the other family issues are settling down, allowing Sandy and me to finally use our Airstream Bambi 16 this beautiful fall. I honestly have to add that my emotional predilection is tending more nowadays towards doing and living rather than spending considerable time writing about what I've been doing. 

Photo from Observation Tower, Cordova Park

We are now camping for eleven days at Lake Red Rock, Iowa's largest lake, riding our bikes on the Volksweg Trail and just settling in for a nice quiet time of getting away from our usual routine. It's great to finally be able to use all the cool camping stuff we've accumulated to live a lifestyle that includes time outside, exercise, and private time with Sandy and me, while still allowing Sandy to work her online business and me to write when I feel like it (like now when it's in the 90s outside and it's so cozy inside with our air conditioner). After this trip, we'll take about a week at home, and then it will be another eleven days out in the Bambi, this time at Lacey-Keosauqua State Park, one of our old favorite camping spots. And then after another week or so, we'll be off by jet to Carlsbad, California, for a week to enjoy the ocean and to attend a wedding. Luckily, Sandy's son will be house-sitting for us during this time, keeping everything shipshape. 

As of last night it is now official--we are no longer the smallest camper in the campground. We had a Hiker Trailer roll in across the way, a tiny trailer with, as they said, a small air conditioner because they are, after all, camping in the humid Midwest. I chatted with the husband for a while last night about ease of towing, spending more time outside, and those little potty tents, one of which is pitched next to their tiny trailer. Ah, the Green Goddess memories! 

One table, two work stations

Not, of course, that we are complaining about the set-up of our Airstream. What we really like about our little trailer is that it has a rear bed and a front table (which also converts to a bed). This is the classic design of the small trailers of the 60s and 70s--bed in back, table in front, and everything else in between. This floorplan allows Sandy to work online at the table and for me to relax in the rear bed, with a significant space between the activities. That way, Sandy can work without having to endure my snoring if I take a nap! We can also both work at the table as we are doing today as I write this blog while she works at her mobile office. Starlink has really provided us with a lot of flexibility for her mobile office. We also still hardly use our water, which enables us to camp for eleven days without having to break camp one or two times to empty the black tank and fill our water tank. In a sense, we still enjoy tiny camping, just with a little trailer rather than a tiny trailer. 

We've been riding our new Velotric Fold 1 Plus, heavy but enjoyable e-bikes that we pack in the back of our pick-up topper. Sandy helps me load and unload the 67-pound weight; however, I could remove the ten-pound battery before loading, which would help. We've been riding every day, pedaling to Pella, buying groceries, and riding the Volksweg Trail, yesterday 23 miles from our campground to the end of the trail at Cordova Park. Our Ford Ranger tow vehicle hasn't been moved since we arrived and set up camp. We are happy with the bikes, even though the smaller twenty-inch wheels and the weight makes a different ride than a conventional bike frame, even a conventional ebike frame. The bikes provide us with greater freedom, and we've been getting our regular exercise while still traveling long enough distances to feel we are really exploring. 

This is all for now. I wish everyone happy travels and good times. When the weather is too hot or cold, I'll probably get out of my garden, off the hiking trail, or off my bike and write another post. It's great to share and to be part of the camping community. 

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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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Camping for Health and Wholeness--Finding Your Inner Basecamp

Basecamp, tiny trailer style. Lacey-Keosauqua State Park.

My intellect bypasses the beauty of this hike I'm taking and provides a lesson on natural history. Go figure, but I am a naturally curious person. This long ridge of land was once an inland sea. When the sea receded, over time the sandstone eroded, and out of this shoulder of earth was carved this curving ravine, this green hollow of diverse life that finds this ecological niche most hospitable--ferns and mosses, succulent plants needing more water and shade, trees that grow tall and spindly because they reach to the sky for sufficient light. 

Beauty discovered at Wildcat Den State Park.

Not to be outdone, my heart whispers that I've entered the womb of the earth, that down in this cupped, curved hollow the world holds its secrets close, and that they are not secrets or mysteries; rather, they are joys and wonders that any child can explain, unexpected beauty surrounding us that can be discovered merely if we take the time to look. The sky opens above us, and thin beams of light reach down, lambent and tender, and this natural beauty awakes within me correspondences I have forgotten. The fall of light quickens something inside of me, stitching together the fragments of myself, making me once again whole.

Children experiencing the wonder of the Maquoketa Caves.

When our world grows chaotic and we feel somehow separated, lessened or weakened by the constant, busy, impersonal cacophony of the day, we need a reminder of the greater world, that the world is greater than just humanity. William Wordsworth wrote about this in around 1802, saying that the Industrial Revolution took as much as it gave ("The World Is Too Much with Us").

The world is too much with us; late and soon, 
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

Have we given our hearts away? Have we lost--or better, forgotten--our capacity to interact with the world? When we spend less time in nature, then do "little we see in Nature that is ours"? What a shame that is! The beauty and power of nature is that same beauty and power within ourselves. That is what we need to remember--that is what we need to reawaken when our spirits are depleted.

Basecamp in an urban campground. Illiniwek Forest Preserve.

Finding our place and ourselves in nature is "humanity's oldest endeavor," according to an essay, "Our Deepest Affinity," by Thomas Lowe Fleischner. "No wonder--our survival has wholly depended on our capacity to pay attention to the encompassing living world, full of threats, foods, and delights." Fleischner explains that "we live in a very odd historical moment" in which people are so surrounded by human-made things that we have little around us to remind us of the natural world. That is why the experience of walking out of the office and into the freshness of an approaching thunderstorm is so powerful. The untamed winds of the approaching storm give us a reminder of the greater world, a natural world sweet and rich with the promise of approaching rain, of moist, green earth. We breathe in a deep breath and feel suddenly more awake, invigorated and connected. Fleischner's conclusion is that we need nature. "The current gush of social dysfunctions--violence, depression, anxiety, alienation, lack of health in so many ways--coincides with the mass sacrifice of human interaction with nature."

We expand our vision to a greater world. Maquoketa Caves State Park.

Camping is humanity's "oldest endeavor"; it is a means for us to integrate ourselves into the integration of the world--that we, either individually or as a species, are where the fragmentation and purposelessness resides. It is not that we are tone deaf to birdsong; it's more that we have taken ourselves to places where there are no birds! As Wordsworth says in his sonnet: "For this, for everything, we are out of tune." We can find wholeness in nature (and wholeness and health share the same word root). 

My wife calls me to the window, and a brilliant goldfinch is eating hyssop seed, the plant bobbing with the bird's weight as it eats. It is the early morning, just past dawn, and a thunderstorm has passed. After a hot, dry week, the air is cool and moist. The earth has received a rejuvenating sip of rain, and I am rejuvenated by what my senses tell me: we can heal ourselves by healing the earth. The hyssop, the black-eyed Susans, the cosmos blossoms, the zinnias, cucumbers and okra, honey bees and bumblebees, the wrens and goldfinches--this late summer haven we have created with our vegetable and flower garden is a haven not just for the natural world we have invited but also for nature within us. Sitting by the campfire should be just an extension of how we live our natural lives--a garden at home, a plant in the office, taking our lunch outside or commuting with a bicycle. The world is our home; we shouldn't keep ourselves locked away in a closet . . . no matter how nicely we have furnished that little space.

Some basecamps are more permanent than others.

I open the door and walk outside, barefoot. The sidewalk is a wet and cool; the grass is lush. I admire the peach tree that grows at the corner of the fence. It gave its crop of juicy peaches to us this year--peach pie and peach cobbler, fresh peaches for breakfast--and now it drinks the early morning rain, its aged limbs propped with lumber for support and protection from heavy winds, a painted wren house swinging from a limb. Yes, I live in a home on property I own, but I mean to share that property. My wife and I mean to share our land because it isn't really just "ours," if we consider all the other lives that also live with us, from the singing birds and pesky rabbits to the worms and microbes in the soil. 

Solo camping at Rathbun Lake. Honey Creek State Park.

In his essay, Fleischner shares the results of medical studies, concluding "it's stunning how remarkably healthy time outdoors turns out to be," that finding nature, whether walking by the ocean or in the forest, or simply going outside to cloud-gaze or to feed the pigeons, is healthy for both body and mind, a medical reality leading to "prescriptions" for wellness that include being in nature. Call it "nature therapy" or "forest therapy," we are healthier when we spend time in nature. That's why once the heat spell breaks, my wife and I will camp for two weeks by Rathbun Lake at Honey Creek State Park, spending time walking the beach or hiking the woods. If it's cool enough, we will start a fire in the morning and sit beside it sipping tea and waking up with the world. My wifes works online sometimes while we've camped and has had the opportunity to tell a client during a phone call, "I'm talking to you, and as I speak a doe and her fawn are lying down in the shade of a maple tree thirty yards away." 

A safe haven.

We camp in our Airstream Basecamp, but I am beginning to realize all the nuances of that word, basecamp. A basecamp is a safe, stable place from which we venture forth on our explorations. It is the foundation for activity. Camping is a means for affirming our place in the natural world; it's also a means for affirming who we are, a way to reconcile and integrate our quick, frenetic lives to the eternal rhythms of nature, to widen our perspective, just as our view expands when we reach a mountaintop and scan the panorama around us or when we turn away from the ocean shore and look out across the ocean to the horizon, where sky and water are one. Camping can help us find our "inner basecamp," that perspective and strategy of life that includes the healing qualities of the natural world. Perhaps this is the true meaning of the current buzzword, glamping. "Glamorous camping" is in its essence, at least for me, not the pretty and expensive accouterments of camping; I think it's more the beautiful and priceless gifts the natural world freely provides. 

It is our obligation to "camp," whether it be sitting by a campfire, watering the begonia at our desk, or standing at our window, watching the goldfinch outside eat its fill of hyssop seed. Nature is not our toy. In this human-centric world in which we now live, we need to mother our Mother Earth, to be good stewards to the land. "Always leave the camp cleaner than when you came," my dad always said. This planet is our basecamp. In order for it to take care of us, we must take care of it. For our health and wholeness, we must keep nature in our lives; we must nurture and be nurtured by the natural world. Sitting by a small campfire is not a little thing: it is the light of the sun contained by a ring of stones. It is the beginning point of that adventure we call life.

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Here We Go Again--Finding an Empty Campsite during the Busy Season

Indian Lake in the fall

I've been busy this spring, what with getting my garden in shape and with helping my son start his handyman and remodeling business. Since it was also a wet, rainy spring I didn't get out to camp as much as I wanted to. Now, it appears that we're in a drought in southeast Iowa, with national heat advisory announcements for our area, with temperatures in the 97-101 range today, depending on which weather service I choose to believe. So, several days of really hot weather. As my wife told me, though, "A day camping is better than a day not camping, no matter what the weather." Our plan was to just reserve a spot and take off . . . and then I started looking at the state and national reservation sites. Yikes! 

What I quickly discovered was that folks have been busy making reservations, especially for the weekends. I was right back to where I was a year ago when I wrote the article "The Agony and the Ecstasy of Campground Reservations." You'd think I would have learned my lesson to reserve early, but I've been busy and I have to confess, I am a bit of an optimist. 

Rathbun Lake, Army Corps Buck Creek Campground

Several options were open for me. Checking out the campgrounds at Rathbun Lake, one of Iowa's largest lakes a little over an hour from home, I quickly found that the Army Corps sites at Island View Campground, which is completely a reservation facility, were almost completely booked. I moved to Buck Creek Campground, also an Army Corps facility, and found that they have continued with having a good portion of the campsites designated as "first come, first served," or non-reservable sites. I moved my search to the Iowa Lacey-Keosauqua State Park facility, about a half an hour away, and found that weekends being already reserved were again the "fly in the ointment" for anyone considering a longer stay. 

It was pretty easy to find Sunday through Thursday sites, but then I'd have to find somewhere else for the weekend. An alternative plan would be just to camp five nights during the week and then come home for the weekend. However, although that would be fun for me, since my wife still has an active business, that would disallow her from enjoying some camping off-time. The solution was to utilize my knowledge of local campgrounds, to not "go big" but to consider the more humble city and county campgrounds close by home. 

Tent camping at Indian Lake, before we owned a travel trailer

I've camped quite a few times at a local campground at Indian Lake near the small town of Farmington, Iowa, right on the Iowa-Missouri border. The lake used to be a state park but was let go by the state because there were several other state parks and forests nearby. The city of Farmington picked up the facility and now runs the campground. I've camped there by myself and with my wife quite a bit over the years--bicycle camping, tent camping, and tiny trailer camping in the Green Goddess. How about camping there with the Basecamp? I thought.

Indian Lake Campground has a rustic feel to it. Yes, it has a small Sewer Alley of about ten sites, but it also has tent sites and a campground within a circle of trees that is tucked away from the hubbub. That little campground provides 30 amp electricity but no water. I called the campground hosts (the park has permanent host residents at the facility) and made my reservation! Then I called the next day and moved the reservation to a few days later because of Father's Day and the extreme heat. Now I'll be arriving on a Monday and leaving on a Monday--unless I decide to extend my stay. The host said that an extension shouldn't be a problem. I was also told that they had a "spill-over" site with a nice view of the lake that I might be interested in, one that is usually used when the campground is full. 

If I were traveling on a road trip, I'd probably book some sites in advance and then take my chances for overnighters, knowing that I could find a Walmart or Cracker Barrel or Harvest Host site for the night if necessary. I'm finding, though, that I'm enjoying setting up for longer stays, and I'm just going to have to remember that during the busy season of camping that I have to plan early or to just take my chances on a "walk-in" site, one that I can stay at for up to two weeks once I get my rig parked. I can stay a week and then decide to stay another week. 

Bike camping at Oakland Mills, a campground 25 miles from home

I momentarily panicked because of the intensity of the reservation program; however, camping in a local facility is an easy way to remove any anxiety. There are more than a dozen campgrounds within forty miles of my home. If worst comes to worst, with a full tank of gas I could just take off, have myself a nice drive, and find a nice spot. That's not so bad. A little serendipity can add a touch of adventure to the experience.

I'm looking forward to staying at Indian Lake. I'm bringing my bike, and there are opportunities to ride along the Des Moines River or on trails and feed roads and trails in Shimik State Forest, which is nearby. There is also a great hiking trail around the lake, about a 45-minute two-mile walk. Next week is supposed to have temperatures in the high 70s to low 80s with a chance of rain, but I have my Airstream Basecamp, and I'll take books to read and my Chromebook for writing. The campground has good cellphone receptivity since Farmington is just across the river. My son's going to keep the garden watered if it doesn't rain, so hooray! I'm going camping.

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My First 2021 Camping Trip--Not!

Lake Darling, pre-thaw

The highs temperatures all week were in the thirties and forties, the lows in the twenties. After all the planning and organizing and packing for my Airstream Basecamp, why not head out to a local state park and enjoy the warm weather--warm when compared to the below zero temperatures of a week before.

I'm not a fool, though, I thought. I'll go check out the Iowa state park south of us first--Lacey-Keosauqua, which is not only close but also has good cellphone reception, so I could continue working on compiling the tiny trailer book I'm publishing. I could do what I've done in the past--write about camping while camping. And while it was still winter, being late February! 

My son was coming at 1:30 to help me chop firewood, so I bustled around and headed out at 11:30, figuring a half hour drive there, the same back, and a half hour of scouting would still provide plenty of time for the expedition and for lunch before my son arrived. The roads were clear and it was smooth sailing in my tow vehicle (minus the trailer), a beautiful sunny day with temperatures close to fifty. Turning off state Highway 1 and onto the park road, the driving was still perfect. All the snow was everywhere but on the road. After crossing the Des Moines River and entering the park, I turned off my Linda Ronstadt greatest hits CD, rolled down the driver's side window, and soaked up the silence.

I almost missed the entrance to the campground because it had not been plowed. That should have been my first clear danger sign. I backed up and checked out the campground access road again. There were tires tracks through the snow with pavement showing beneath, so vehicles were accessing the park. That was my thinking on this beautiful sunny day. I was invincible, and it wasn't really still winter. An early spring had arrived!

I did fine entering the campground. The snow was slushy, but my progress was straightforward. I followed the rutted tracks in the snow for about seventy-five yards until I arrived at the shower house area, where the garbage containers also were located. The ruts ended. The access vehicle had been the sanitation truck. Checking out the unblemished snow for the rest of the campground, I realized there was going to be no camping for a while. I decided to turn around as the garbage truck had done and to head home.

You're probably seeing where this is heading--and if your thoughts are that I'm going to get stuck in the snow, you're right! The 6-8 inches on snow was soft and slushy, with an ice base from the original freezing rain about a month ago. When I turned the steering wheel to execute a Y-designed turn-around, the slush massed and compressed to ice. Like the silly old man that I was, the warm weather and sunshine had put me in an "I'm invincible" mood, so I had brought no shovel, even though the thought had occurred to me earlier in the day. I'd just shoved off down the road, happy to be out on a scout.

I did have some camping supplies in the back of the Pathfinder, though, being mostly packed with extras for camping. I removed cardboard, a broom, and my camping rug. Using mostly my hands and broom, I scooped away snow that was packed behind the tires and then placed the camp rug behind one rear tire, tucking it in tightly and hoping it would provide traction. Shifting into 4WD low, I eased the SUV back and it moved, being released from the ice cavity the spinning tires had created. I repeated this process a couple more times until I was headed in the right direction, then loaded up my stuff and eased out onto the main road. No begging the rangers for help, no tow truck, just me literally digging myself free from my own foolishness.

I think the Pathfinder would have performed better if I had more aggressive tread on the tires, but for the most part the all-weather tires do just fine. Rather than buying more gnarly tires, I think I should just be a bit more cautious. Knobbier tires also throw more rocks, something I want to try to avoid with my brand new AS Basecamp.

I drove home, ate lunch, and then my son came over with my eleven-month old granddaughter. He was going to help me chop wood, and she was going to watch, snug in her baby carrier. I confessed my foolishness as I split kindling--my son had been planning to help me, but it turned out the little girl just wanted to be held by her daddy. With the warmer weather, I needed less wood, and my son did help me with moving a full wheelbarrow of wood from the stack to the garage, which helped me keep my back from being stressed. It was a fun time. 

After son and granddaughter left, I decided to zip to Lake Darling State Park to check out its camping readiness. Only seventeen miles away, it had been rebuilt within the last ten years, including cement access roads. I did toss in a shovel for this trip, though!

The roads were perfect on the way out--state highways--and the entrance road was perfectly free and dry. Even the campground had one road open, which circled up to the park's rental cabins. However, the campsites were completely socked in with snow, including large berms of snow created by the plowing. The parking lot for boating was clear, though, so I parked there and walked the short distance to the campground, taking along the shovel I had brought. Quickly I discovered that the snow was too dense, being ice at the bottom of the pack, for any thought of shoveling out a space. I had been hoping that the first campsite--the camp host site--might be cleared. It was close to the road and had a cement slab. No luck, though. I'd have to wait for the snow to melt.

Lake Darling campsites

It was a fun drive to Lake Darling, though, because the entrance road to the campground skirts the lake, first by-passing the swimming area, the large community center, and the boat ramps. It was fun to see the ice fishermen out on the lake and the tracks of the sleds they pulled out with their equipment. About six pickups were parked in one spot, with the anglers hiking down to the water and out onto the lake, their colorful snow parkas and insulated coveralls so bright and cheery against the white of the icy lake--red and blue and yellow against the white background of snow-covered ice.

The good news, though, was that the rest of the week included days above freezing, so the melt was prodigious and rapid. Today is Friday, and I might head out again in the afternoon for another scouting expedition, this time back to Lacey-Keosauqua State Park and also Indian Lake Campground, a city campground in Farmington. It's thirty-nine miles away, a bit farther, but might be maintained more, since they have year-round patrons. Also, there is a full-time residence and office at the park, so the road will be open to that point. Whether is campsites will be open, though . . . we'll see. My wife and I are hoping for maybe a Sunday night out, which gives more time for the snow to melt.

If I head out today, though, for another scout, I'll take a few deep breaths before charging off. I'll pack some necessaries and make sure I have a safe path before leaving the main highway. I firmly believe the old saying: "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." I'm not sure if this applies to old fools or lucky fools, but I remember how foolish I felt, opening the car door and standing there, looking at my car stuck in the snow. "I could have avoided this," I remember telling myself, before getting to work, scooping snow with red, frozen hands. 

And thus ends the story of what was not my first camping trip of the season. May it amuse you, may it be a cautionary tale, and may your 2021 camping experiences be full of wisdom and joy . . . and a bit of luck, which can always help, right? 

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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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