The dirt turnout in the Wallowa National forest was actually quite nice, now that I look back on it (as I am writing these a day or two later — whenever there is cell service). Nice and private — affording us the opportunity to do all the things we have taken for granted in all these years of dispersed camping. Like getting out of the camper naked. The solitude also allowed me to pull out the dumbbells I packed along so that I could say I used them at least once during a two month trip. Since then, and I guess this would be considered a Spoiler Alert, I would have felt like a complete idiot doing my weights in a parking lot of campers. —And I consider this to be the BEST of excuses for skipping my workout in the coming days.
Aside from what is quickly becoming a near obsession with the abysmal gas mileage, the drive has been going well and after puttering around long enough we pulled out and headed to Hood River area to find a site for the next night.
And had our first fight of the trip.
Old Jennie (nickname for Jennie prior to lots and lots of therapy) would delight in writing about this. New Jennie, to be honest, would also delight in writing about this, but is going to try hard to keep it balanced. Not just because I have all kinds of new relational skills and insights and value my marriage, but also because New Dave is actually reading the blog and has, in fact, mass mailed the link to … i literally have no idea how many people. So, the old rules are gone. I can no longer write with abandon and extravagant exaggeration about our fights — which used to truly be one of my favorite Road Warrior blogging activities. I am grieving this loss, and frankly, procrastinating the next paragraph because this is UNCHARTED TERRITORY.
But, write it I must.
Okay. *slight back story*. Neither one of us are great planners. Dave will say that he actually enjoys planning, but either doesn’t have the time for it or finds himself overwhelmed with information and lost in the options. I simply don’t like it. I don’t like the idea of being pinned down. Having to be somewhere at a certain time. I’m not sure where this comes from but it permeates many areas of my life and I’m trying hard to change it because it is, I feel, really weird.
So. Because neither of us is the natural planner in the family, we kind of split up the duties. Mine was to research and book the Alaska Marine Highway Ferry and to figure out the route to and from Alaska. Dave’s was to plan our time in Alaska. Shockingly, it worked out pretty well. I mean, I guess it’s still too early to declare that with such confidence, but let’s just say SO FAR it has worked pretty well. However, we had the first test of that TODAY. Hence, THE FIGHT.
I had spent a fair amount of time researching the options for camping near Hood River and landed on what looked to be the best spot given the variables. Of course, you never know until you see it, so I try to hold it loosely. It would be appropriate to now also reveal AGREEMENT #2 of the trip (the first, if you remember, was that we would not drive more than 7 hours in a day). Agreement #2 was that we would not SPEED, since we, 1) have “all the time in the world” and 2) get abysmal gas mileage when we speed. And let’s be honest: we ALWAYS speed. Some of us being worse speeders than others…
After (gently) reminding Dave of Agreement #2 *several* times over the past couple days, the Voices In My Head, told me to let it go. And I did — but let’s add a bit of weight to the little pack on the camel’s back, shall we? So when dave flew past the turn to the Deschutes River Recreation Area (my first choice for camping that night) not once, but TWICE, I was a little stressed out. The temperature was like 98 degrees at noon and the campgrounds we had seen lining the Columbia River along the way were basically black asphalt parking lots with zero shade. So, when I finally laid eyes on The Campground and saw the little shady green oasis that was Loop A — and CLEARLY MARKED on my Gaia map route — I was like, “I am home.”
Of course, we must be FAIR and BALANCED here. Dave does not live inside Jennie’s head. So Dave had no idea that the camel was already carrying a fair bit of weight in the packs, nor does he FULLY understand the affect EXTREME HEAT has on my faculties. So when Dave peeled through Loop A, at about 45 miles per hour in a 10 mile per hour zone, hopped out at the host’s site, despite many, many signs at each site making it clear you needed to reserve online, knocked on his camper door and met just about the crabbiest (and that is putting it nicely) campground host in all of these Unites States of America, he was like, “We can find somewhere better.” And I, practicing all these new life skills, very calmly, replied, “I would really like to stay here.” And he, practicing HIS new skills said “Seriously?!”
Haha. I’m just kidding. I don’t know what he said, but he did drive around Loop A one more time, pausing at A25 long enough for me to confirm it was available for the night. (Online. Like the signs said.) It was. However, there was a SPRINKLER — and, by sprinkler I mean an agricultural-level irrigation device covering the ENTIRE site. So… Dave peeled out again, now testing Jennie’s resolve. Seeing a guy in a golf cart, I rolled down the window to ask him when the sprinkler’s would turn off.
It was none other than The Campground Host. And he REALLY WAS the crabbiest. In fact, he was a real asshole — and New Dave and Jennie try not to use adjectives like that anymore. When he said (very rudely), “At 4pm. That’s when check in is. And that’s when I turn off the sprinklers.” Dave peeled out for a third time, saying, “We are NOT staying here.”
I was quite mad.
Things escalated. I said, not very calmly, “Then YOU can figure out where we are going to stay tonight.” And Dave said, “Then YOU need to drive.” And I said, “Fine.” And about 20 minutes later, careening along Hwy 84, ALSO breaking Agreement #2, Dave, overwhelmed by the internet, and frankly, WAY LESS SKILLED than me online, conceded that Deschutes River Recreation Area Loop A site A25 was INDEED the best place to stay.
Old Jennie would have refused to turn the car around. New Jennie was still a real bitch (and I get to say this because I am writing about myself), but she did turn the car around and did, actually, let it go. This is called REAL PROGRESS, people.
Addendum: after reading the rough draft, my copy editor requested this clarification: “Dave did not know at the time of the incident that Deschutes River Recreation Area had been researched by Jennie, nor that it was marked on the Gaia map route.” I think it’s safe to say that IF Dave HAD understood this, well then… this post would be far less entertaining.
I guess this is still my favorite kind of thing to write about.
Anyway.
We ran some errands (aka we bought some Easy Cheese and beer) and returned to the campground around 2 pm, thinking we would have to wait until 4. But the place had become packed while we were gone. The sprinkler had been moved just enough for us to back in, but not unpack, without getting wet. And wouldn’t you know, the KINDEST 0f park rangers came and moved the sprinkler for us!
We had plans to meet Dave’s friend around 4:30, so we just sat in the shade and relaxed. I wandered out to the river thinking we’d fish, but it was like 147 degrees and the idea of standing in that blazing sun was just not happening. It’s hard to believe there could even be fish alive with air temps like that (but there were and we definitely should have fished…).
Dinner with Colin and Kristen was LOVELY! Their house was SUPER COOL and I got to “ride the swing” off the front porch. It might end up being the highlight of the trip for me. (See instagram for a video of the epic swing ride.)
I don’t think Dave ever fully appreciated that, in my EXTENSIVE route research, I had placed him on the Deschutes River (Loop A, site A25 to be exact), because at some point he said something like, “This is the Deschutes River?” (I mean… ) And, “I’ve always wanted to fish the Deschutes River.” So, we abandoned the Gaia map route that would take us to the Washington coast in favor of driving south toward Bend so we could do a float trip and really fish it. See? I’m not UNREASONABLE. I can PIVOT. I have absolutely NO PROBLEM with being spontaneous. (When it suits me.)
We went to bed with plans to leave at 6 am for the fly shop. The wind was absolutely howling. And — despite my extreme distaste for wind — absolutely DEVINE. The campground was like Disneyland. Wall to wall to wall campers, cars, carts, rafts, dogs, crying babies, generators.
Inexplicably, we slept like babies.
