Our friend Ted recently had an incident at a campground in Sequoia National Park. The Lady and I spent this past holiday weekend, and stayed in the campground, at Pinnacles National Park. The Teds made the right choice in their circumstance and this post in no way is meant to compare the two incidents. Each incident is different. I tie this post to Ted because Wander the West members have had their share of unfortunate encounters. ‘Nuff said. Here’s the story. What would you do?
We turned in early. The campground was full, but quiet. We both dropped into deep sleep.
“Who is making all that noise?” the Lady asked. She was tight against my back, her voice in my ear. As I woke up I tried to focus. Someone was indeed loudly talking and close by.
“Where are they?” the Lady asked. “They sound so close and loud.”
As I rose up on my elbows I asked, “What time is it?”
The Lady checked the clock. “It’s after ten.”
I looked out the window into the night. Directly below me, our campsite’s table was covered with gear. We had left it clean and empty. An adult male with a headlamp was standing at one end over a stove and a boiling pot. A car was driven up and parked at the table. I saw a tent erected in the background. There was at least one other person. The man at the stove was carrying on a loud conversation with whoever else was there. The scene took a short while to register. It just did not make sense. This was our campground, reserved, bought and paid for.
I quickly ripped the Velcro open for the clear vinyl window. I did not yell but forcefully asked, “What are you doing in our campsite?”
Excuses, explanations came in a hurry. “We didn’t have reservations. There was no place to camp. We didn’t know this was your campsite.”
I stopped him. “You woke us up with your noise and talk. You are in our campsite.”
Before I tell the rest of the story I want to ask, “What would you do?”
We turned in early. The campground was full, but quiet. We both dropped into deep sleep.
“Who is making all that noise?” the Lady asked. She was tight against my back, her voice in my ear. As I woke up I tried to focus. Someone was indeed loudly talking and close by.
“Where are they?” the Lady asked. “They sound so close and loud.”
As I rose up on my elbows I asked, “What time is it?”
The Lady checked the clock. “It’s after ten.”
I looked out the window into the night. Directly below me, our campsite’s table was covered with gear. We had left it clean and empty. An adult male with a headlamp was standing at one end over a stove and a boiling pot. A car was driven up and parked at the table. I saw a tent erected in the background. There was at least one other person. The man at the stove was carrying on a loud conversation with whoever else was there. The scene took a short while to register. It just did not make sense. This was our campground, reserved, bought and paid for.
I quickly ripped the Velcro open for the clear vinyl window. I did not yell but forcefully asked, “What are you doing in our campsite?”
Excuses, explanations came in a hurry. “We didn’t have reservations. There was no place to camp. We didn’t know this was your campsite.”
I stopped him. “You woke us up with your noise and talk. You are in our campsite.”
Before I tell the rest of the story I want to ask, “What would you do?”
