We spend our first night out in Lone Pine, California. We camped here last year with Ruthie who collected a handful of small shells in the creek–or irrigation canal, if that’s its use. The facilities are basic, the $10 price right. The creek gurgles and spashes like background dinner music or a lullaby, most of the sites are in shade, and we’ve never found the place crowded.
This evening we had to sort the stuff we had dumped in the back of the van as we tried to get off on time. The base layers were quite well organized, but our bed was littered with our toothbrush/cosmetic cases, jackets (which we don’t expect to need for several weeks), AAA travel guides, last-minute groceries, knick-knacks to take to family, extra pairs of shoes… We repacked. The hot wind would blow out our Coleman stove so we have ham sandwiches and those special bean cakes.
We left the back of the van open all night for the somewhat cool wind. Enjoyed stars, the creek gurgling, frogs croaking (more noticeable close to the bathroom where there was probably a shallower place in the creek), and a very faint whiff of skunk at one time—Floyd said someone’s dog must have made a mistake.
I’m curious where the name Portagee Joe came from, maybe an immigrant farmer or miner from Portugal?