When last I blogged, I was fresh off of getting my (now skinny) ass kicked by Mother F'n Nature at Dead Horse Ranch State Park. (I know how the horse died.) Whilst getting said ass kicking, an RVer suggested I try Fool's Hollow Lake State Park (it's actually called Fool Hollow Lake, but that's idiotic and I cannot bring myself even to type it) in Show Low, AZ. Nuff said. I booked within two days of my brutal Dead Horse experience. I didn't realize when I booked, that the largest wildfire in AZ history had started just two days earlier. By the time of my Fool's Hollow reservation, the fire had consumed over 500,000 acres. But since it was 60 miles to the East and the wind was blowing East.... Plus I was assured by Park staff that all was well at Fool's Hollow. And they did not lie.
So off we went. Connor dog and car full of necessary camping crap: check.
Lola dog in copilot seat: check. Let's go.
We're driving. And we're driving. And....three hours later. Bingo. Fool's Hollow Lake.
Lola dog in copilot seat: check. Let's go.
We're driving. And we're driving. And....three hours later. Bingo. Fool's Hollow Lake.
And I have to say, it is really lovely. Check out the view from my campsite:
Not bad for summer in Arizona. Pine trees. Shade. Water. What more could any camper want?
I must admit, it was super windy and a bit warm in the afternoons. But having been battered and baked (like some chicken from the 1970s) in the Easy Bake tent every afternoon at Dead Horse, I was READY. I planned on being outside (ick, usually) and I brought a shade structure to make that possible. And since I'm kind of reviewing camping equipment now, let me say that I took the Embark (cheapo) shade structure, available at Target and many other places -- I'm sure I Amazoned (I just added that term to my dictionary, thank you) mine. And while it worked quite well once I had 8 guy lines firmly staking the corners, there is no way in H E double toothpicks that I could have put this thing up alone. I fought the BADly-designed EVIL plastic corner connectors (just like the ones that broke on my SUV tent screen room) for about 15 minutes trying to raise this thing in the wind. Easy to put together, yes. But every time you let go of one leg to put up another, the first leg flops to the ground immediately, because without the guy lines staked, there is nothing to hold it in place. And I could not get the leg pole pins into the grommets with my puny old muscles. In the end, it took one guy from Mesa and his two kids to help me put this stupid thing up. (I must look really sad and desperate when camping. Not sure what's going on there, but I did appreciate the help.) Once UP, however, this thing withstood 40 mph winds (more about those winds later) for two days with barely a shudder. I had to laugh when, sitting under my Embark shade structure later that first evening, I watched the peeps on the other side of my camp trying to force a mangled Easy-Up shade structure into some sort of pretzel shape small enough to fit into the camp dumpster. Hah! Deja vu all over again. I wonder how many of those pieces of...end up in camp dumpsters? I hope they recycle.
So my shade is up. Oh, and while I'm reviewing shade products. I was able to snag an instant beach shelter from my local Costco for only $26. They are $60+ on the web site, so I figure I got a deal and who cares if it cracks up in the first breeze. And it really does go up instantly. Really. Instantly. And I would not have purchased this for my own sake, but I figured it would be good for stashing two annoyingly clingy doggies while trying to set up and take down camp. It's about 3-4' high and a half dome deal, but it has a built-in floor that was critical to my attraction. Awesome. It worked perfectly (needs to be staked or held down with heavy rocks) and kept the doggies comfy and out of my hair while keeping weeds and bugs out of theirs.
And while I'm praising new products.... The Coghlans tent stake mallet and puller I picked up at REI for $4 was worth every penny and then some. I was an idiot to omit a mallet for the Dead Horse trip -- mallet = good; rocks = bad for putting in tent stakes.
Okay, so we've got doggie shade, people shade and a tent. Did I forget the tent? I put that up first, and really, next time, I think maybe I'll do the shade structure first. But whatever. The Alps Mountaineering four-man tent I ordered from Sierra Trading Post while the SUV tent was still smoking was really comfy. Much smaller (I couldn't do yoga inside the tent), but comfy and adequate for myself, a twin cot and two doggies. More importantly, it was a breeze to set up. No sliding poles through sleeves -- you just clip the tent to the frame. Sturdy aluminum poles in a space alien configuration that doesn't look like it should work, but does, and a nice rain fly that creates vestibules front and back. Came with nice aluminum stakes. Very sweet. And it's an odd shape -- taller at front where you walk in, making it easy to walk in, and then lower in the back. So you don't get to stand and walk around in there. But, aside from getting dressed, you don't really need to. So that's good. I felt secure. Here's a view of my set up at Camp-Not-Nearly-So-Hot-and-I-Laugh-at-the-Wind:
And I have already learned many camping lessons. Like bring a freakin' rug for the front of the tent, unless you like dirt, rocks, weeds, and other crud in your tent. And stake everything securely. And don't rely on the cheapo stakes they give you with whatever you're putting up. I made a mistake in leaving behind my new 2 gal water jug with spigot -- I lost all the cool from my cooler by repeatedly opening it to get water. Oops. Next time -- take the jug. I'm already freezing like a 1/2 gallon of water into a huge cube for the water jug. So I anticipate having ice cold water that will make my teeth chatter after two days on my next trip. And I thought I'd try a cot to save space instead of the usual full size air mattress. Um...not bad. But not great. I was able to sleep okay on it, but I wouldn't rate it as really comfy. There's no getting around the narrow frame. And I'm not even wide. And by the time you pack the Thermarest-type pad to make the cot work, you might as well just take the air bed -- its takes up the same space, or less, and about the same amount of time. Forget the cot. It's going to consignment.
So, enough gear reviews. Are you bored yet? (OH! I forgot the butane stove and the Coghlans wind shield! Both excellent. Fire restrictions prohibited wood or charcoal, so it was a good thing I bought a butane burner and enough cans of gas for about ten of my lifetimes of camping trips. The wind shield was very handy when trying to heat up dinner. So all good.) Well here's where we get to the exciting part. I bought a boat. Not a big boat. Some might even say not a real boat. But a boat nonetheless. I bought the Intex Seahawk 2 inflatable row boat, because it came with the oars and a pump and everything for only $46.99. Not kidding, $46.99 delivered. So how can I go wrong? I was all excited when I launched it in my swimming pool and took an unenthused Lola for a spin. In her new pink polka dot life vest. She's not a real water dog (which is kind of weird, because poodles were originally water hunting dogs from Germany or something), but she tolerated the trip, and she looks pretty cute in the life vest. So I figured this would be a breeze. I was swamped by a wave of nostalgia for those old row boats being pulled across the lake by a young man in a striped jacket with a lazy chick (with a parasol, of course) in the other end. In my scenario, I guess I'm the guy in the striped jacket, and Lola...well, you get the idea. I even brought an umbrella in case Lola got hot in the sun. But it was too breezy (yes, here we go) and Lola was fine in one of my sun hats.
Saturday morning, I'm sitting in my shade (yes, lots of nice shade) and thinking that it's so nice at camp, I should stay and read all morning and go boating in the afternoon. But then I notice that there's already a nice breeze and I remember my Dead Horse beating and the set up of the shade structure the previous afternoon, and I wisely decide to hit the lake first. By 9 a.m., I'm at the boat ramp being ridiculed while inflating my boat with a hand pump. And may I say, that while the jackhole that was making smart comments probably thought it was going to be a lot of hard work to inflate Lola's Folly, that pump and my sturdy Intex watercraft worked like a charm and I was ready to launch within 10 minutes. I give the boat design and construction 5 stars for ease of use, comfort, (I could give them some style pointers), and convenience. Not to mention price. Again, what can possibly go wrong? Lola's suited up and we launch.
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| Lola, ready to launch. |
Right away, I'm literally in the weeds, because I really have never rowed a row boat. If I have, I certainly cannot recall it. My grandparents had a pond where we used to swim, but I spent most of my time screaming and crying while my brother tried to drown me. It's so nice to grow up.
It took me a while to get the hang of rowing. And maybe it was just me, but the dang thing didn't seem to want to go straight -- no matter what I tried, I almost always had to alternate a double stroke with an extra stroke on my left side. Go figure. I couldn't. And while I'm at it, I probably should have looked up the proper way to row a row boat, because you really need a lazy chick in the stern (see how nautical I am?) to tell you where you're going. Yes, you're supposed to sit in the bow with your back to where you're going and stroke backwards. You get lots more leverage, which I would need later on. But I didn't figure that out right away. I got that information much later in the trip from a nice couple in an inflatable canoe/kayak with their two dogs. Again, my inexperience must have been highly visible. But on this first part of the tour, I was going with the wind and the current of the lake and all I really had to do was keep the boat far enough from shore to avoid pissing off the anglers. The hardest part was really making myself relax -- I mean, the plan was the journey in this case, not the destination, which is unusual in my normal travel experience. I had to keep telling myself that I wanted to go slow. Weird.
My plan was to make it around the lake to my camp, walk up and check on Connor (and apply lip gloss, since I had left mine in the car at the boat ramp) and then row back around to the boat ramp. About an hour in a slow boat later, I located my shade structure, parked the boat (docked? what do you call it when you pull it up on shore? I guess, pulling it up on shore.)
So Lola and I said "Hey" to sleepy Connor dog, applied lip gloss (oops, did NOT apply lip gloss, because it was in my purse in the car at the boat dock), put on a rash guard shirt (full on sun and I knew the trip back would be more than one hour), and started back. By this time, it had to be between 10:30 and 11 a.m. and the wind had picked up a bit. Frankly, I was concerned that I would be able to make any headway at all trying to row against the wind and current. Really. Wasn't sure that would happen. But it did at first. I was making headway even before I got the tip that I was rowing the boat from the wrong end and going butt-first into the wind. And once I got the leverage provided by rowing backwards from the bow, I felt pretty powerful. But then I approached the corner. The lake takes a 90-degree turn about 2/3rds of the way back to the boat ramp. And the frickin' wind was blowing around that corner (the lake is basically a canyon of boulders) at a pretty good clip. (Some people from Mesa who were making a RAPID exit early Sunday morning said that the wind was 40 mph on Saturday -- so it's not just wimpy me.) So there I am. Rowing. And rowing. And frickin' rowing. And I make it to the corner where some kids are jumping off of large boulders kind of staring at me while I'm cussing and yelling at Lola to "MOVE" every time I try to stroke without smacking her pointy little poodle head. And not only am I not gaining ground, but I'm spinning around every 5-6 strokes and cussing more while I try to correct my course while looking frickin' backwards and not hitting the poodle, and I'm being blown to the far side of the lake. Shit. The funny part though, is that Lola seems to really be enjoying this part of the ride in particular. She's sitting there with the wind in her face and her poodle hair blowing in the wind (she's overdue for a cut) with the biggest doggie smile you've ever seen.
I conclude I am not going to make it. And I'm not a quitter. I like to think I can do anything. But at this point, I've been rowing for something like 2-2.5 hours in the sun with no muscles and a poodle in my way. I'm tired. I'm beat. And I'm heading for the boulders. If I thought I could have made it around the corner closer to the shore line, I would have gone for it, but it wasn't working. I wound up giving up a few yards of progress just to get to the shore line, where I managed to stick the Titanic on some rocks. Which, by the way were covered with slime. So there I am trying to unstick and port the African Queen and poodle along the shore line of enormous boulders. This requires walking over slimey boulders on which bare feet could find NO purchase. I'm talkin' slime. And when boulders weren't available, it required swimming with one arm while pulling the boat with poodle in the other hand against the wind. I'd like to say I just clenched the tow rope in my teeth and swam the corner, but I didn't, because I had no tow rope. Yes, it was ugly. And another jackhole on one of the boulders kept asking me if I wanted some help. And "Is the water cold?" What exactly did he think he was going to do for me? It's not like he could grab part of the rope and help me walk it around the shore line, since that was impossible -- I was swimming with it at that point and he's sitting on his boulder all dry watching me almost drown while towing a poodle in a row boat with one hand. Since I was making headway at that point, and my only problem was being annoyed by chatty jackholes on boulders, I declined his offer of help.
In the end, I made it around the corner, where amazingly, the wind was no longer hurricane force, but maybe just a minor gale, and I was able to get back in the boat and continue my struggle to the boat ramp using my very lame-ass rowing "style." Since it was only about 1p.m. when I made it past the crowds of jeering day-users fishing and swimming off the docks, I could certainly have dropped my handy little boat anchor (this former Girl Scout was prepared, thank you -- well, except for the wind thing) and just lounged and recovered for a while. But I was done. I de-flated the SS Minnow ("...a three hour tour....") and chatted with my counterpart (another middle-aged woman with the similar Sevylor inflatable row boat and a yappy dog in an orange life vest and doggie visor) and compared boats and wind stories. But she brought a husband with a motorized pontoon boat and he drove her boat/dog/largish-ass in. Cheater.
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| Naps all around! |
I spent the afternoon lying in the shade (okay, I napped -- Naps for everyone!), reading my kindle, and drinking champagne. The end.
Not really, of course. I spent an uneventful night watching a movie on my tent wall with a portable projector. You can't have enough crap when comfort camping. That's part of the drill. I did yoga (again -- I did it Saturday am) Sunday morning, which made the whole trip worth it, since I never would have done yoga twice at home, and then spent an hour or two taking everything down. I actually might have stayed longer to read (I made a lot of headway on The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), but the fools at the Hollow kick your butt out at noon.
So that's it. So long from camp.
I have already ordered an inflatable sit-on-top kayak for my next trip. July 8-10: Canyon Woods Lake. Or is it Woods Canyon Lake? I can never remember. Three geographical features in one name. What could go wrong.
