Arkansas: Lake Catherine State Park, Part 6: Coda

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

October 2017
On the way to Missouri
Lake Catherine State Park


After the rain

I survived the previous evening's rain issues just fine, and got up early to watch the sun rise. Another camper was up even earlier, and he'd set up his chair at the end of the pier to watch the dawning of this good day.


The fellow nomad

On my Monday afternoon guided hike, I met another nomad of a certain age. I'll call her Susan. From a lifetime up in Maine or some other ungodly cold place, Susan retired two years ago. After a year or so of meeting friends frequently for coffee mid-day, she wondered, "Is this what the rest of my life is going to be? Meeting for coffee every day?"  And (I'm paraphrasing here): "It's fucking cold in Maine. I don't want to be cold anymore."

There came a time when Susan hatched a plan, and she delved into research about living and moving about in an RV. Friends of hers had bought a new Class B Pleasure-Way van. Eventually, she decided on the same.

When I met Susan at Lake Catherine State Park, she was slowly wending her way to a warm wintering place. California, perhaps.

Susan graciously allowed me to visit her van so she could give me a home tour. We'd noticed that my next door neighbors (who'd lent me the shovel the evening before) also had a Pleasure-Way, so we ambled over there to see if we could invite ourselves for a tour of their van.

My neighbors' van was a vintage one, I don't remember from what decade, but at least 20 years old. Although I'm not a fan of house tours, I do like to poke around RVs because ... you never know, I may end up in a tiny home space, whether on wheels or not.

It's fun to look at which amenities people choose, the utility of the various layouts, and imagine which amenities I'd choose and which layout I'd like.

My neighbors were delighted to give us a tour.

Susan is barely in her first year as a nomad. How long will she do this? Who knows? I hope she has a grand experience.


Neighbor exchange

When I walked over to return my neighbors' shovel, they said, "No, no! Keep it, please! We bought it awhile back and we've never used it!"

What a kindness.

I realized I might be able to reciprocate: I'd been lugging around two canisters of propane for a camp stove or lantern, and hadn't used them in ages. I asked if they might have a use for them, and if so, they'd be doing me a favor to take them. This is because I worried slightly about the safety of carrying around the canisters in a car in variable temperatures and in the enclosed space of my camp box.

They said, yes, the could use them.

Win-win.

A slide show of my stay at Lake Catherine State Park below:

.... back on the road to Missouri.

Arkansas: Lake Catherine State Park, Part 5: Engineering

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

October 2017
On the way to Missouri
Lake Catherine State Park


Tuesday evening brought a couple of challenges to my little campsite kingdom.

First there was the rain.

I'd chosen a level site for my tent construction.

What I discovered, however, was the lack of drainage for when the rain fell, and fell, and fell.

I found myself digging storm trenches around and away from my tent.

Water diversion, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

On one hand, this exercise caused no little consternation. Sleeping in a sodden tent is no fun, even though, fortunately, I could sleep off the floor, atop the springy cot my nonagenarian aunt gave me a few years ago. Because I would be leaving the next morning, it probably meant I'd have to pack a muddy, damp tent.

On the other hand, there was something satisfying about having to eyeball a problem, analyze how to fix it, and then execute on the plan, with adjustments on the fly. It reminds me of what an algebra-loving acquaintance told me once: "Every day is solving for x."

To divert the water from the tent, I had to dig trenches and clear debris from the corners of the railroad-tie-built platform so the water had a place to drain into, down, and away from the platform altogether.

Not having a shovel, I used the sturdy cap/cup to my large coffee thermos for the digging, and a knife and stick for the debris removal.

My next door neighbors, RVing it in a vintage Class B Pleasure Way, brought over a camp shovel for me to use in my excavations! They'd bought it awhile back and never used it. This helped a lot.

Water diversion, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

 Second, the uninvited guest. 

A goddamn wood roach or some such invaded my tent right before I went to bed. I tried to trap it so I could, if possible, scoot it out of my tent, and if not possible, kill it, but the damn thing eluded me. I do not like unpredictable strangers crawling about in my bedroom at night.

Eventually, I just had to live with the situation and hope it didn't surprise me by flying into my face or ear or start crawling up my arm or something while I slept. **Shudders.**

It didn't. 

Arkansas: Lake Catherine State Park, Part 4: The Ethereal

Early evening, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

October 2017
On the way to Missouri

Lake Catherine State Park


On Tuesday afternoon, I took a short walk. Dewy webs and fungi were on the stage.

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Look at those tiny leafen universes in the drops above!

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

For those who collect wild hearts:

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

I'd like to have broken off the bread-like slab below and eaten it, but .... maybe it would kill me?

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Besides, I didn't have any salt with me. ..... Hahahaha! That's a joke. Of course I had salt with me!

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Mmmm, brown sugar with a sprinkling of roly-poly:

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

I am curious about the cutting striations and also the waxy-pimply rounds on the base of this plank:

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

I think of constellations and galaxies below, the whorls and swirls and stretching nebulae:

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

And an ear cocked against the body of a tree:  

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

At night came the full moon. A video:

And some stills:

Full moon, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Full moon, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Full moon, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Full moon, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Good night.

Arkansas: Lake Catherine State Park, Part 3: Squeaks and Squawks

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

October 2017
On the way to Missouri

Lake Catherine State Park

On Monday morning, squawking geese trundled into the lake. I guess, traditionally, geese honk, but that would mess with my alliterative gimmick for today's title, so I'm sticking with the squawking. I'd also like to throw in the possibility of "squacking," but that might be overmuch. Also, I can't guarantee I actually heard any squawking, honking, or squacking on said morning when the geese slid into the water, but let's say it could have happened.


On Monday afternoon, I took a guided walk in the woods. After a year in the high desert of El Paso, it was a wonder to be back in the land of the deciduous. 

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

The bridge offered up satisfying squeaks as one walked over it. As below:

As I walk over it again (in the video), maybe it's more of a creaking than a squeaking. But again, alliteration. You know what I love? That I can walk over this bridge again and again and again every time I watch the video. No, every time I feel and hear the video. Gosh darn, it makes me smile.

The bridge's squeaks and creaks remind me of the sounds of the carriage ride I took on Heybeliada Island off of Istanbul, here and here.

One of my co-hikers was a solo nomad like me! More on her later. 

In my campsite, a glittery butterfly drew my eye. Sadly, it was dead.

Butterfly, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Butterfly, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Butterfly, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

Butterfly, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

My best guess is that it was a black swallowtail. My research tells me, however, that in future, I need to examine the bodies more carefully to note the color and shape of the insect's torso and the wings' topside.

I'm also thinking that if I were to pick up a hobby in which my choice was between birding and butterflying, then despite my affinity for birds, 'capturing' butterflies and moths might be more accessible to me.

Arkansas: Lake Catherine State Park, Part 2: "Two White Boys Nervous ... "

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

October 2017
On the way to Missouri


At Arkansas' Lake Catherine State Park, I encountered a couple who had recently moved to a private development on the lake. Young, robust retirees with two sons in and just-out of college. When they learned I'd lately come from El Paso, the wife shared that their younger son had been there in early September for the Sun City Music Festival!

Cool, I thought! Along with a wistful wish that I might still be in El Paso.

Then the wife remarked that her son and his friend had tried out one of the famous eateries in El Paso - one that Food Network had spotlighted - Chico's Tacos.

I asked how they liked it, and her response startled me.

Her son had described the visit, and as she related it to me, his story began with "two white boys nervous about" going in to Chico's.

Wha?!

This statement has stuck with me. "Two white boys nervous about ...."

What the holy fuck did these two young, upper-middle class, presumably educated men think might happen when they visited this restaurant?

It's a myth that only the so-called "uneducated" carry irrational fears about people, places, and things which represent the unknown, the Other.

I'm using the word "irrational" as a bucket to hold: statistically unlikely, untrue, untested, uninformed, racist (conscious or unconscious), classist, and, yes, thoughtlessly stupid.

Through my domestic and international travels, I've observed that irrational fears are not bound by education, socio-economic status, race, culture, religious beliefs, age, gender, and no, not even by allegedly-enlightening travels.

Irrational fear is a terrible, terrible thing. We exclude people we fear. We demonize people we fear. We de-humanize people we fear. We denigrate people we fear. We kill people we fear.

Out of fear, we imprison ourselves in enclaves - in bubbles - of pretend safety. We deny ourselves access to the entire banquet table that life offers us, partaking only of certain foodstuffs available in one small section of the buffet.

"Two white boys nervous" about going to Chico's Tacos in El Paso. 

Jesus. Such statements believed and uttered by men who, in their future professional lives, will likely make decisions that impact dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of people in their circles of influence.

Such things just make me want to cry.

Arkansas: Lake Catherine State Park, Part 1: Nostalgia

Sunrise, Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

October 2017
On the way to Missouri
Lake Catherine State Park


After completing my South Louisiana visit, bound for Missouri, I intended to book an airbnb around Hot Springs, Arkansas, so that I could get some work in. I'd found a fabulous place: A congenial hostess, lovely digs, strong and reliable internet (which I need for my work), affordable, and a good base for exploring Hot Springs. But that's when I hit up against airbnb's new "we take security seriously" gate, and I decided that even the sweetest temporary home was not worth sacrificing the seriousness with which I  take my security.

After considering various options, I decided to hell with trying to find a place to land with fast, reliable internet, and just go camping!

Geographically speaking, Arkansas is a gorgeous state. Lake Catherine State Park caught my eye because it sparked a pleasant memory. Many years ago, my mother and a sister booked a cabin at this state park. My mother brought back a soft sage-green (one of my favorite colors!) sweatshirt for my daughter, which had "Lake Catherine State Park" on it.

Decision made. I'd camp at Lake Catherine State Park for a couple of nights.

I arrived on a Sunday evening, which is a good time to roll into a campground without a reservation, as the weekend campers have long since left.

It was after 5:00 p.m., and the park office had closed, but thoughtful staff had left a sign noting available sites:

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

With my snap of this sign, I drove over the campground to see which of the available sites made me feel good.

My criteria for good sites are:

• Close proximity to toilet;
• Shade trees;
• Flat area for tent;
• Prettiness of view or site; and
• Relative privacy from neighbors or frequent walk-through traffic. 

Having selected my site, I mentally expressed oohs and ahhs over the luxury of an electric site. Wow. I could bring out my coffeemaker for my morning coffee! Or a lamp!

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

It was especially pleasing to use my portable table, which I have schlepped with me to each of my year-long stays. This is the table I bought from my friend at her moving sale an eon ago. I sent her this picture. It is my office. It is my dining table. And in Arkansas, it was my kitchen counter. I love you, ma chérie table.

Speaking of nostalgia, the hanging dunk bag in the photo below is also a cherished item. My daughter and I made dunk bags together back when she was a Girl Scout Brownie. Only the one has survived, and I use it every time I camp.

Lake Catherine State Park, Arkansas. October 2017.

That's my tent in the background. On a flat surface. Foreshadowing: Engineering drama emerges later in my stay.

By the way, the fact that I had to attach my trash bag to a table leg and my dunk bag to the campsite reservation post should tell you there was a lack of (reachable by short me) resources to suspend housekeeping sorts of things. This is a pet peeve I have about some campsites.

Fortunately, I carry a l-o-n-g rope, and even though the distance between the two closest pairs of trees was also long, the length of my rope was up to the challenge. So later I was able to hang both my trash bag and dunk bag, plus other stuff like towels, in a right proper manner.