I woke to find that the other two RVs had split and I was all alone in the park. Oh so very peaceful. Remembering that I had yet to check in and was living mildly illegal, I felt like a sitting duck. One good thing though was that now that everyone had left; there was no one in the park who knew how long I had been there. I had been there for four nights now. I was starting to feel sort of like a fugitive, just waiting for the law to catch up with me. It’s really not that big of a deal, but watching over your shoulder constantly does slowly change your mind set.
Later that morning a very official city car slowly drove by the park perimeter, “this is it” I thought, but they drove away. Two minutes later they did another lap. I held my breath…then they drove off again. There was a cherry picker and crew working in the park all morning. I’d gotten used to maintenance people being in and out of the park. My philosophy was to just act like I’m supposed to be there. Maybe I was getting too comfortable. I walked down to the riverbank in my underwear, eating an apple…boxers, not briefs. It seemed okay.
On the sand bar I noticed hundreds of maple tree saplings. They were only a couple of inches tall. There is a distinct separation between the woods and the sand bar. I was certain that these baby trees never would make it to adulthood. They’d probably get washed away when the water rose. I wondered if I dug one out of the sand and put it in a pot how long I could keep it alive. Tomorrow I would try.
Walking through the woods I once again saw the alleged mulberries. Realizing I had lived through the night after eating one I decided to eat five. If that didn’t kill me I’d come back tomorrow and gather as many as I could find.
I went to visit my sister in Mapleton, Mn, about an hour away. I listened to a Grateful Dead bootleg podcast on the way. It was a delightful drive. My old cat, “Kidden” now lived with Nan and my niece Katelyn and nephew Jacob. I had had Kidden, since the moment he was born. I had taken in a stray cat who wound up having four kittens. I kept what I believed to be the best one. Kidden and I had lived together for fourteen years, in five apartments and one house. He had in some ways been my closest friend and companion. When I decided to runaway in a motorhome I felt he would be better off not joining me. Thankfully Nan decided to take him in and it has been a perfect fit. I can tell they love him and get his quirky sense of humor.
It was good to see Kidden, he acted as if nothing had changed. Nan and I talked for several hours about where life had brought us. We’re both currently unemployed and single and contemplating what might be next. Katelyn was babysitting Jacob ate a lot of cake.
That evening I built a roaring fire with just one match and no lighter fluid. It was satisfying.
A police car slowly pulled up and stopped. It was the first official car that didn’t slowly drive by, but actually stopped. The young officer rolled down his window and shouted, “Are you camping, or fishing?” “Camping”, I replied. “Did you register?” “Not yet, I figured the office was closed and I’d do it in the morning” were the words I heard come out of my mouth. He said, “No, it’s the Police Station, it’s always open”. “Oh, okay, I’ll go register right now”. He then he radioed in that I’d be coming up to register. I walked to the Police Station and paid $64.14 for the next three nights, but I’ll probably stay four.
It was nice to feel like a guest in the campground and not a criminal.
That night some kids were fishing and grilling in an open campsite. I hung out with them off and on all night. Jason reminded me of Evel Knievel as he was a motocross rider who had broken many bones. I started to tell him about my mountain bike crash and broken collar bone, but stopped, feeling like a wus and that his crash stories were way out of my league. Instead I just listened and enjoyed his stories. He was a bit of a low-life, but he shared smoke with me around the fire and I traded him as much wine as he cared for. It was a late night.
Later that morning a very official city car slowly drove by the park perimeter, “this is it” I thought, but they drove away. Two minutes later they did another lap. I held my breath…then they drove off again. There was a cherry picker and crew working in the park all morning. I’d gotten used to maintenance people being in and out of the park. My philosophy was to just act like I’m supposed to be there. Maybe I was getting too comfortable. I walked down to the riverbank in my underwear, eating an apple…boxers, not briefs. It seemed okay.
On the sand bar I noticed hundreds of maple tree saplings. They were only a couple of inches tall. There is a distinct separation between the woods and the sand bar. I was certain that these baby trees never would make it to adulthood. They’d probably get washed away when the water rose. I wondered if I dug one out of the sand and put it in a pot how long I could keep it alive. Tomorrow I would try.
Walking through the woods I once again saw the alleged mulberries. Realizing I had lived through the night after eating one I decided to eat five. If that didn’t kill me I’d come back tomorrow and gather as many as I could find.
I went to visit my sister in Mapleton, Mn, about an hour away. I listened to a Grateful Dead bootleg podcast on the way. It was a delightful drive. My old cat, “Kidden” now lived with Nan and my niece Katelyn and nephew Jacob. I had had Kidden, since the moment he was born. I had taken in a stray cat who wound up having four kittens. I kept what I believed to be the best one. Kidden and I had lived together for fourteen years, in five apartments and one house. He had in some ways been my closest friend and companion. When I decided to runaway in a motorhome I felt he would be better off not joining me. Thankfully Nan decided to take him in and it has been a perfect fit. I can tell they love him and get his quirky sense of humor.
It was good to see Kidden, he acted as if nothing had changed. Nan and I talked for several hours about where life had brought us. We’re both currently unemployed and single and contemplating what might be next. Katelyn was babysitting Jacob ate a lot of cake.
That evening I built a roaring fire with just one match and no lighter fluid. It was satisfying.
A police car slowly pulled up and stopped. It was the first official car that didn’t slowly drive by, but actually stopped. The young officer rolled down his window and shouted, “Are you camping, or fishing?” “Camping”, I replied. “Did you register?” “Not yet, I figured the office was closed and I’d do it in the morning” were the words I heard come out of my mouth. He said, “No, it’s the Police Station, it’s always open”. “Oh, okay, I’ll go register right now”. He then he radioed in that I’d be coming up to register. I walked to the Police Station and paid $64.14 for the next three nights, but I’ll probably stay four.
It was nice to feel like a guest in the campground and not a criminal.
That night some kids were fishing and grilling in an open campsite. I hung out with them off and on all night. Jason reminded me of Evel Knievel as he was a motocross rider who had broken many bones. I started to tell him about my mountain bike crash and broken collar bone, but stopped, feeling like a wus and that his crash stories were way out of my league. Instead I just listened and enjoyed his stories. He was a bit of a low-life, but he shared smoke with me around the fire and I traded him as much wine as he cared for. It was a late night.
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