Tuesday, July 8, 2014

National Lampoon's Independence Day Vacation

Have you ever tried to fit 3 adults, 2 kids, a 100 pound dog, and 4 days worth of camping gear in a Subaru Outback? I did last week, and let me tell you, it was an experience. Even with the Thule on the roof, the car was packed. Of course, some sacrifices had to be made to fit everything inside. In this case it was food. I know, sounds crazy right? But on paper it made sense. Our planned destination at Fool Hollow Lake had a grocery store less than 30 minutes away. We figured we could get to the lake, make camp, and then run into town for supplies. Unfortunately it did't quite work out that way.

You see, we were running late. By the time we reached Fool Hollow Recreation Area it was nearly 5:00 at night. It was a long morning of packing, and an even longer drive in the cramped car with a farting dog and yelling kids. But when we arrived at our spot that we had reserved for four days, we were shocked by how tiny it was. Literally the size of my living room. With two tents and the picnic table, we would have had no room. On top of that, the neighbors were directly next us. As in ten feet away directly next to us. We had absolutely no privacy. To make matters worse, our tiny campsite ended with a 20 foot cliff that plunged down to the rocky beach at the waters edge. Not exactly safe for kids. We didn't want to camp there. It was the worst camping spot I've ever seen. Luckily the ranger refunded our money, and we hightailed it out of there. My "plan B" was to drive an hour-and-a-half back toward Phoenix and camp somewhere on the Mogollon Rim. 

On the way we stopped at the condo Maggie and James had rented near the lake. We had planned to spend our 4 day trip hanging out with them and their wonderful children. After looking over a map of the area with James, I decided to check out a different spot close by. A place called Scott Reservoir. As we neared the reservoir we encountered a herd of free range cows. Not a big deal. We might have to dodge some landmines was all. A short distance later we spotted vultures circling overhead near the road. As we slowly drove past I could see them feasting on something dead. Probably a cow, I thought. It set an ominous tone for that location. The camping area was a dump. Discarded furniture. Trash. Even a rusted out propane grill. Not the camping kind mind you, but the full size ones you keep on the back patio. There were some other campers. Men mostly, drinking beer and lounging around on couches and recliners... You know, the kind that you normally see in a living room. I wasn't feeling very good about the spot. It resembled more of a homeless camp than a wilderness camp. As I was looking for a spot Sarah finally blurts out "Turn around. I am not staying here!" So, it was back to "plan B" and around 6:30pm we turned back toward Phoenix, and our new destination near Woods Canyon Lake. 

This camping trip was supposed to be special for two reasons. First, Sarah's oldest daughter Bianca was in town visiting from Oregon. Second, Jonah turned 6 years old on July 3. We had planned to have dinner that night with Maggie and James at the their condo,  and let Jonah open a present, but seeing how we had yet to find ourselves a home for the week, we decided to press on. The kids were tired and hungry. We all were. Since I had just hurt my back at work the week before, I was feeling really sore from sitting all day. Sarah gave Jonah a present that he opened in the back of the car squeezed between his sisters with the dog drooling on his head. He couldn't eat his new monster truck though, and with dark approaching fast we needed to get some food still, since we hadn't brought any with us. We stopped at some roadside grocery and picked up a few cans a soup and a couple boxes of cereal. Just enough to get us over.

Finally, a camp spot!
We rolled into the Mogollon Rim Lakes area as the sun was setting. After dodging a few elk in the road we found a really sweet spot to camp amongst some tall ponderosa pines. We made camp, cooked up some soup, put the kids to bed, and hit the sack. Even though my back was killing me I was feeling good about the spot we ended up at. There was nobody around us. We had tons of room, tons of privacy, and it was absolutely beautiful. Around 4am I was awaken by the sound of a low growl coming from our dog Rocco. Since I didn't put the rainfly on the tent, I was able to sit up and look around our camp. There, not ten feet away was Rocco having some kind of primal standoff with a huge cow elk, who had somehow wandered right into our camp. For those of you who have never seen elk up close, let me tell you, there are enormous animals. Even the females are huge. Rocco was growling, and that elk was just stood there staring at him. Just as I was about to crawl out of the tent and chase the big animal away, Rocco lets out a thunderous bark and the elk bolts into the woods.

That morning, as we sat around eating Lucky Charms and drinking coffee, an off-road vehicle rolls up into our camp and a woman steps out. Her presumptuous demeanor immediately put me on the defensive. I was surprised to learn she was the camp host. She clearly was not a "people person". She started by giving us a list of what we couldn't do in camp, and threatening us with all manner of fines if we didn't comply. She followed that up with this gem, "I don't like to categorize people, but if you look like the partying type, I wont let you camp here." Then she goes on about how she likes to establish a "presence" with campers by patrolling the area on her ATV and periodically checking on the individual campsites. I couldn't believe it. The last thing I wanted was a damn babysitter. 

After she left, the girls drove into town for much needed supplies. Jonah and I spent the day shooting the sling shot, playing with his new remote control car, and lounging on the hammock. I managed to use my new knife some as well. It was my third attempt at a figure-four deadfall trap, and I managed to make it properly this time. The only problem I had was actually setting the trap, which turned out to be so difficult that I gave up on it. I wanted to get some fishing in, but I was so tired from the day before and lack of sleep, I just felt like lounging. Besides, the hammock was just so darn comfortable. 

Playing with knives is fun.
That night we watched the sunset from the very edge of the Mogollon Rim. When you're up there, it feels like you're in a whole different world from the dry desert heat of Phoenix.  As we ate dinner in camp a truck towing a trailer showed up in the campsite across the road from us. At about 200 yards away, he was our closest neighbor.

Jonah whacking Riley. This pic cracks me up.
The very next morning Rocco followed Jonah down to the road. As Jonah was playing around with his new remote control monster truck, Rocco wandered into the guy's camp with the trailer who just pulled in the night before. He yelled at the dog then confronted Sarah about the dog being off the leash. Sarah replied that we were camping, and that she would not put the dog on a leash. The guy immediately gets in his truck and reports us to the camp host. About 30 minutes later the camp host rolls up in her ATV. She threatens to call the cops on us if we have another complaint about the dog. We decided to leave the dog off the leash but keep a close eye on him. Afterall, no one was around us, and even the camp host had been in our camp and seen the dog off the leash and not said a word. Apparently Joyce (the camp host) decided not to wait for another complaint, and call the cops anyway, as an hour later a Coconino County Sheriff rolled into our camp. He proceeded to tell me that in Coconino County, a dog off its leash is an arrestable offense. I couldn't believe it! I was being threatened with jail for having my dog off his leash in the middle of the woods with no one around. It was totally ridiculous and Sarah and I were both so pissed off we decided to pack up and leave a day early. Before we left I actually photographed our entire campsite because Joyce had threatened to fine us if we left a mess, and I just didn't trust her to be honest about it. She seemed like the type of person who would burn us just because. 

Sarah and Bianca at Willow Springs Lake
We decided to stop at Willow Springs Lake on the way out to do some fishing and swimming. I was eager to catch some fish to make up for the stressful time I had been having. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoyed my camping experience, but I felt like like catching some fish would make up for some of the negativity we had experienced with the some of the uptight people we dealt with. Instead of going to the marina, I decided we could avoid the crowds by parking away from the main body of the lake and hiking in. It worked great too because we had an entire section of the lake to ourselves. Despite the thunderclaps and lightning overhead we spent the afternoon swimming, fishing, and having a good time. The fishing didn't go so well. Even though I've always caught fish at this spot, I didn't even get a bite. The water was just too dang shallow. So shallow in fact that I could walk out to the middle of the lake (in the area we were) and still touch. Arizona has been in a 5 year long drought and the evidence of that is everywhere. This is the second time I visited a lake that was visibly suffering a lack of water.

All in all, I still had fun. But the experience definitely left me feeling resentful of this nanny state we live in. I mean, I get making sure that people clean up after themselves and don't start fires while its so dry, but the babysitting business is just out of control. If camping has come to this, then I don't even want to camp... at least not in the busy season when the forest service feels the need to employ camp hosts. Frankly it made me feel like I have no freedom at all. I would have camped dispersed if I knew of an area where I could do that. I've lived here two years now, but I'm still not really familiar with all these forest roads and backroads, and just don't know the good places for dispersed camping. And the tiny campsite at Fool Hollow Lake just makes me angry. Do they need money so desperately they have to pack people in like sardines? Doesn't it just defeat the purpose of camping? The entire experience just makes me want to move to Alaska... Thanks for listening to my rant, and thanks for reading.