We have virtually our own private campground now. A fifth-wheel trailer was parked nearby in the campground when we arrived, but the owners came by over the weekend and took it away. Before they went, they spent one last night in it, and it was obvious that they really didn’t want the camping season to end. All their camping amenities were out for the final night: propane fire, electric ice maker, portable refrigerator, a large entrance mat, and chairs. The wife sat out in her fashionable white jacket and summer sandals, next to the little flickering flame, and just stared at the boats on the water thoughtfully, perhaps a bit forlorn, for hours.
There are at least two couples living aboard their boats at the dock, but we rarely see them. We only know their presence by the barking of little dogs and the blue glow of their TV sets as we walk by. Other than that, the marina seems almost abandoned. Once in a while we’ll see someone in one of the open-air shops, working on their restoration. We’ve spotted a man with a three-legged cat, and a couple of dogs that seem to belong to somebody. Everyone keeps to themselves, although they aren’t unfriendly, and I’m sure they regard us with some curiosity, too: a family in a shiny Airstream covered with odd stickers, parked alone for days in the empty campground. One family in a minivan stopped by the chat briefly, but otherwise we’ve been undisturbed.
So we have the run of the place. I showed Emma where there’s a rope swing by the water’s edge, and after some time to build up her courage, she has decided it’s a fun thing. It’s a classic rope swing: a decaying and partially unthreaded rope tied to a dead tree, swinging out over the water. At the peak of your swing, you are a good ten feet above the water, although it looks much higher and scarier. At any moment the rope appears as if it might break and leave you in a pile of gray river sand, or splashing in the silty water. I don’t think it would be half as fun if it looked safe.
Emma has also discovered what she believes to be river otters. One of them swam right past her last night, and occasionally they make a terrific splash in the water. The splash makes me wonder if she’s really seeing beavers (who will warn you off with a whack of their tail on the surface), but so far I haven’t spotted them myself.
This morning we woke up to find a fantastic fog over the water. I went out to capture a few shots in my pajamas but the fog was burning off too fast. In just a few minutes it was gone, leaving behind what promises to be a spectacularly sunny day.