Okay, I get it. Karma works! Two days ago I was complaining about the incessant noise and vehicle traffic at our camp in La Crosse, Wisconsin. All I wanted was a quiet camp, close to nature, and no pesky ATVs or golf carts rushing to and fro. Well, this afternoon, Fate decided that it was time to make my wish come true.
Today, about mid afternoon, we determined that we needed to go south from our day-long drive on Route 14, toward Interstate 90, if we wanted to find a good camp for the evening. Forty-five minutes later we rolled into the tiny town of Howard. We were about to roll on through when I decided I wanted to check out the downtown area for possible photo subjects. I turned off of Route 34, where we'd been driving, and cruised down main street.
Discovering that main street held nothing of photographic interest, we circled the block and headed back toward the highway. Just before reaching Route 34 we came upon a tiny camp perched on the edge of the residential area. The camp contained eight to ten RV sites, all complete with nice concrete slabs and a stand of trees between each site. I pulled up next to the camp's entrance and Concetta and I both stared at it. Except for a tiny tent in space six, there was no one around. No RVs. No other campers. Not a sign of anything that might disrupt a serene camping experience.
"What do you think?" I asked Concetta. "The camps all have full hookups."
"Well," Concetta said, "I had been planning to do laundry, but we can put that off another day."
"Okay," I said. "Let's do it. The sign says only $18.00. You can't beat the price, and there's no one here but the tent person, and I don't even see a car for them."
And that's how Fate took a hand and put us in the nicest camp we've seen in a month. No noise. No campfires. No golf carts. No teenage kids. Not even a barking dog. If this isn't heaven, it's darn close. The nearby highway has about one car every half hour and no 18-wheelers at all. Sweet!
When we had set up, Concetta encouraged me to go over to the ice cream stand across the street and buy myself a Father's Day "surprise" ice cream. It didn't take much persuading to convince me that I definitely should contribute to the town's economy. "Watch for cars!" she called as I trotted across the grass toward the highway.
A few minutes later I was inside the tiny restaurant's dining room and cozied up to their order window. I say "cozied," because there was some nice air conditioning emanating from the tiny window, and the rest of the dining room was pretty hot and stuffy. While the young female mixologist was adding components to my triple-thick, black raspberry shake, I questioned her on life in the thriving metropolis of Howard.
"So what's the population here," I asked, when she had returned from adding some blackberry syrup to the silver mixing cylinder full of ice cream.
"About a thousand," she said, displaying a huge smile and nice teeth. She was a heavy girl, but her hair had been styled and she just looked like a good kid.
I tried to judge whether she was unhappy about living in such a diminutive town, but she didn't seem to display any rancor at all. So I said, "I bet Saturday nights are pretty lively, then. Huh?"
That question made her burst out laughing, and from then on we were buddies. She turned to the mixing machine to stir up my blackberries and her workmate came to the window. Feeling bold, since the workmate was about ten years older, I asked, "So how does someone come to live in Howard?" I was careful not to say 'end up.'
The woman looked at me for a few seconds, probably trying to decide how much to reveal, then she relaxed and smiled. "Boyfriend," she said.
"So, you're from the big city?" I asked.
She hesitated, then said, "Halfway between Sioux City and Fargo, North Dakota."
"You know," I said, "I'm from a small town, too. I drove all the way from Nevada to buy this ice cream."
She perked up at that point, then proceeded to make the same mistake nearly everyone makes -- she assumed we lived in Las Vegas. "Oh," she said, "I just love it out there where it's hot."
"Well, we actually live where it's cool and less crowded," I said. "There's a couple of million in Las Vegas, but only about 65,000 people in Carson City where we live."
At that point my shake was ready and I paid the first girl, whose name I had learned was Shelby, and then I tasted it. It was great! "So, Shelby," I said. "Are you named after some town in the south or maybe a famous person?"
She laughed, her eyes dancing, then she said, "No, my dad just liked Mustangs." And that broke her up again. When she quit laughing, she said, "And I have two other friends in town with the same name. I think our fathers were all racing buddies."
I hated to leave Shelby, her sense of humor, and her air conditioned window, but I thought I'd better get back to Concetta and the lawn chairs she'd set up under our copse of shade trees. Otherwise I'd finish my blackberry shake and want another. It was just that good! Saying goodbye to my new friends, I headed back across the highway.
Concetta thought the shake was pretty darn good, and she was more than happy to share a few spoonfuls. Later on, as I was taking my shower, another couple wandered in and parked their travel trailer right next to us. But they hurriedly did their setup routine, then unhooked the trailer, and drove off in their truck. I suppose they were headed somewhere for dinner. So, even though we now have neighbors, we are not anticipating any trouble in paradise. With just two camps and possibly a tent resident, we're still just a tiny island in the stream.
We didn't do much stopping today, since it was pretty hot and muggy. And, to add insult to injury, the wind was blowing a gale all day. We did stop at a transportation museum in Tracy, Minnesota. It was closed, but it was a great place to stretch our legs and shoot a few photos as you see here.
Tomorrow we head further west across South Dakota, and we'll still be in this state tomorrow night I expect. We'll probably course through Pierre and Rapid City, and we'll probably be going by way of the scenic byways whenever possible. No firm plans as usual, but we hope we stumble over an interesting attraction or two. So until tomorrow, we bid you Happy Travels!
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