After I left Larrabee. . . oh wait, I loved it so much I looked for property. Not for me apparently, not unless I win the lottery or land a grand jackpot at slot machine. So lovely.

My happy spot at Larrabbe

Troubles were building. Even at Larrabee I was having trouble. First it was the water; the new system Dan had helped me install was leaking; an hour of screwing and unscrewing left me cussing. The campsite faucet was also leaking. I broke off the remaining bit of the handle trying to get it to stop. I had the sewer hoses connected, still, I was standing in soggy stinky yuck. What I wanted was the space next to me. It was reserved but vacant. I drove off the nice couple from Canada to get the spot I was in now. The campground only offers a few RV sites…. the tent sites were empty. And tonight’s RV’ers seemed to have particularly vociferous dogs that Olympia wanted to have long discussions with ergo I asked the Canadians… well I didn’t really ask, it was complicated, and now my water wasn’t working. I knocked on the camp host’s trailer. I didn’t know what to expect, usually when I’d tried this the resulting reply would be rather grumpy. This one wasn’t. He came right out and played with the dogs. To my dismay he replaced the handle on the faucet.  However it wouldn’t turn so we sat and talked. I turned my head away when he mentioned that someone must have gone at it with pliers… hmm, no, I didn’t have any pliers but I did have a nice hammer in the back of my van.  He told me where to find the best views and the ins and outs of camp hosting and how his elder cat  who pulled loose his oxygen mask at night, might be succeeded by a dog.  As dark was settling in I was awarded permission to move to the coveted spot, nice and dry with no distractions for my dogs. I gave up on the water idea.

The next day I lingered until checkout at 1 pm, enjoying myself. I’d slept better here than anywhere on my trip so far. Of course it occurred to me to stay. I loved the place.  The sea, the cliffs, the flora and fauna…there was much to occupy me, but I left. I have no explanation. I thought I’d find the same loveliness at the next State Park. I didn’t, nor at the next 4 RV camps. You get the idea. I kept moving. Where ‘O Where is Jamie headed???? I had no idea, Mason had no idea and, Olympia she had her head propped on the door handle in an effort to not look completely bored. Me: Look at the map, the GPS and drive in that direction. I detoured through farm land. Rest and tarry? No I couldn’t. I did pick up a hot vegan dinner from a coop I passed, and non-vegan milk chocolate drops. I’d sort of noticed a lot of water in the refrigerator. It made a mess for me to clean. I’d switched the ‘fridge to propane and it cooled down; plugged in, it failed.

Canada and the San Juan Islands were very appealing except for the expense. I’m a woman with no income, so in the end I scrunched up my eyes staring at the map for some indication of a happy campground. I hate paying money for a bad night’s sleep. Sorry Kate I knew your home was not too far but I was on a mission.

My thought process is vaguely like a bird, maybe a drunk bird…. Oh I almost forgot I found the loons! They were at Larrabee, can’t blame ’em.

I like to find an odd way to get from here to wherever I’m going and land in a ‘just right’ nest; not too lonely, not too crowded, and so forth. I depend on my Garmin to led me. It does so via some very peculiar routes. Often I refuse to listen. It then has to re-route me. We play this game: I see an interesting road and take it, the GPS finds an even more interesting way to get me back on track and starts telling me to do U turns and to take these strange little byways. What do people think seeing a little RV in their midst far from the beaten trail?  Often they wave as if they should know me. I must be visiting somebody and they want to be sure they tell whoever it is, that yes, they were friendly to me. At times, I feel I’ve left the States and am in a nether land, then POP the GPS returns me to normalcy.

View from my campsite

At long last, and it was a short driving day for all my drama, but I was tired, I pulled in to Camano State Park. Not quite deserted, I found a few RVs and at a least 1 or 2 tenters. The RVs were all crowded in the few view spaces. What makes Washington park planners believe folks want to be hidden in trees when they camp? Dark trees, with no view? Are campers like church goers needing to be cloistered? A solemn shroud imparts the right attitude? Do they think we don’t notice that way that (OMG) another camper is right there behind that shadowy tree? What’s wrong with a view, and natural light and space. If I want cramped and dark I can go home. I want to see the world and watch the interchange of nature. Apparently others feel the same, the view spaces are prized.

It was a rough night…. Refirg trouble, door and latch trouble even the pantry door would not close, financial issues from home, Internet died every 2 to 5 minuets while I had issues with loading photos on WordPress and I kept at it, I spilled my dinner on the keyboard, was chased by bees, had to clean some toxic looking purple stuff from the picnic bench Olympia wanted to sit on, spent too much time on the cell phone and then was bitten horrifically by bugs; I gathered a bunch wood others had left for a campfire, it would be my first but I never had the time to light it.

In the morning I headed for the nearby beach to let the dogs run and promptly lost the LT keys in the park. It was that sort of day.

We stop at lots of these along the way

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