Second Practice Trip – Camping Cornucopia

I’ve never been much of a camper or outdoorsperson. This lifestyle is new to me. I knew I would need some pretty good self-training, so on my second practice trip I tried my hand at a number of different ways to camp – a national forest or two, state parks, a Hipcamp, beach camping, using my ground tent and my rooftop tent.

In November 2021, I loaded up my car with everything I thought I would need when I went on the road and wouldn’t have a home to come home to. For our first stop, I used my Free Camping app to find a hunter’s camp in the Talladega National Forest. Hollins Hunter Camp had no amenities except a fire ring. The area was woodsy and beautiful, with a flat, cleared area to pitch a tent. It took about an hour to setup camp – I set up my rooftop tent (RTT) and Ella’s tent first, and worked deliberately, learning the best, most proficient ways to setup my gear. It’s a lot of work.

I was finally settled in and ready for a quick supper – some leftover chicken and some yogurt – and a fella drives through my camp in an old pickup. He’s about 75-80 years old and stops for a chat. He turns off his engine but stays in the car. He is the only person I’ve seen all day, and it’s dusk and chilly. I say it was great to meet him, and gently signal that I am ready to sit down and eat my supper in the peace and solitude I came to purposefully enjoy. He continues to talk. In his warm, friendly, Southern drawl, he tells me about his family. His daughter is a nurse, his son works at the farmer’s market, his grandson is in college. He is out here because he wanted to get away from the house for a spell. He tells me about buying his truck, hunting in these here parts, hands me a map of the area, and explains about the coyotes I will most definitely be hearing tonight because of a big hunt this afternoon. After a bit, there is a lull in the conversation, and I tell him again how great it was to meet him, and blessedly he turns on his engine. I’m not sure what signal I sent at that point because I was awfully relieved he was going to leave me to my supper, but he turned off his engine again and started in on another conversation. He wanted to know who my people were, where they were from – the typical Southern convo. I gave as little info as possible while still trying to sound gracious. After what seemed like an impossibly long time to have a conversation without saying anything, he gave his farewells and turned his truck around and left for home.

It dropped to 36 F that night, and Ella slept outside in her tent. I was bundled up in a hat, gloves, a head band to cover my ears, and blankets on top of my sleeping bag so I could cover my head.  The morning sunrise was beautiful, pinks and yellows peeking through the forest trees. The air was crisp and clear. Ella and I went for a walk first thing to get a lay of the land and orient ourselves. We never saw another person, although we saw a truck parked in another campsite – hunters no doubt. Back at the campsite, we had breakfast and cleaned up. I decided to pack up and we headed to Cheaha.

We hiked all through Cheaha, but I wasn’t quite sure where we would spend the night yet. I wasn’t crazy about spending it in the state park which was full of RVs and families. That’s not a bad thing by any means, but I knew I needed more practice in the wilderness. After a full day of hiking, I asked the park personnel if there were a more primitive campground. There was – the Civilian Conservation Corps campsite. Ella and I paid for the night and set off in the car the ten or so miles away to the most primitive site. There was a latrine, and supposedly a working water pump. Each campsite had a fire ring and a flattened, gravel area for a tent. We chose the farthest back campsite and were the only ones in the campground that night. It was beautiful in its isolation. I built a fire and had a peanut butter sandwich and fruit for supper. I slept in my RTT, and Ella slept in her tent on the ground again. It was not as cold, but still very chilly. In the morning we hiked again before breakfast and then broke camp.

I made a few videos about campgrounds you pay for versus free campsites, about pooping and peeing in the woods, and about my camping food. I’m not particularly fond of cooking at home. I do it, but it’s purely out of necessity and not out of a passion for the act of creating food. It turns out, I hate fixing food in the wild too. It takes SO much time, so much cleanup, and uses so many resources that I try to conserve, like water and propane. I make coffee in the morning after our walk, and beyond that, I usually eat cheese and crackers, yogurt, fruit, maybe some cereal. It all suits me just fine.

After packing up, we headed off to Bankhead Forest for the night. I found a horse camp on my Free Campsites app that had a small fee – $5 per night – and was used as a basecamp for trail riders. Again, I was the only one there. Ella and I were settled in for the night, and I was fast asleep when around midnight Ella woke me up barking. I keep her tethered to the car with a long cable, so she can go in and out of her tent freely but must stay close. This night she was awakened by something in the middle of the night that had her very aggravated. She barked aggressively and jolted me out of my sleep, and then really jolted me when she took off at top speed and snapped her harness that was attached to her tether. Nearly panicked, I grabbed a flashlight and quickly put on my shoes, still in a fog, wondering what the heck was going on. I was spooked for sure.

I shone the flashlight all around and never did see anything out of the ordinary. I caught a glimpse of her running in the distance every now and then, but she was not even about to come to me. She was wild and free in the moonlight. I took a walk around and tried to settle my nerves. I am convinced she was tempted by a prey animal – an armadillo, or raccoon, or a deer.

As I was looking around with my flashlight, I kept seeing these sparkles everywhere. Really out-of-place, small, sparkly things attached to the trees and grass. During that evening while I was fixing my supper, I noticed a sparkly in the grass and thought a child must have lost a rhinestone from a hairclip or some such. I investigated with a flashlight and found a small hole in the ground where the sparkle reflected off my light. It was pretty neat, but I wasn’t about to go fishing around in a hole in the ground to find out what it was. I didn’t give it much thought until I’m standing in this wooded area in the dark, in the middle of the night, surrounded by sparklies on the trees. I shined my flashlight on the tree and saw a dozen spiders, pretty large with little sparkly eyes peering back at me. It was fascinating! I looked closer and closer, my heartbeat already racing, but now stimulated by a bit more adrenaline, hoping these spiders weren’t jumpers. Turns out, it’s a wolf spider who indeed has a sparkly eye, and sometimes when the mama carries her babies on her back, her whole back becomes sparkly with a hundred baby sparkly eyes. Truly mesmerizing!

The next morning Ella was back in her tent, snoozing the morning away. We set off for our morning hike. We traveled down a dirt road, and several miles in we found a trail off to the side with a sign that said “Camp” nailed to a tree. As it seemed to be a horse trail that led to a horse camp, I decided to take it, assuming the camp was the one where we were staying. My philosophy about taking trails when I don’t have a map with me is that once the trail starts not looking well-trodden or forks in any direction, I’ll double back rather than risk getting lost in the woods alone. This was certainly a well-trodden horse trail, with the dirt churned up and muddy, with old, hardened, horse apples dotting the path. But there were a lot of obstacles as well. A stream to cross, lots of fallen trees, some wash-outs, and work-arounds. It was several miles long with fun changes in elevation, and the fall leaves covered the ground like a carpet. We were walking so long that I started to doubt that I knew where we were going. Maybe it would be wiser at this point to turn around and retrace our steps than to hope we would end up at our camp. I kept going. After a long time, we finally made it to the camp, and it just so happened that it was our very campsite, so the Subaru and RTT were the first things we saw when we crested the edge of the forest. A pretty great morning.

We had breakfast and broke camp and headed to Oak Mountain State Park. Oak Mountain is very much a family-oriented RV park with some primitive campsites, so we were surrounded by RVs with their bicycles, kayaks, ATVs, and all the outdoorsy, family-fun equipment. We were also surrounded by family sounds like children crying, TVs blaring, chainsaws burring. It was around $25 a night and included water, bathrooms with showers, trash service, and picnic tables. Because I knew the park was big and I would want to drive around, I set up my ground tent this time. It took a lot of work and effort to carry all the gear to the campsite and set it up. I really appreciated my RTT at that moment.

The next morning, Ella and I set off for a walk first, but then took a scenic drive in the park to hike some trails with overlooks. It was gorgeous despite the rain that began to fall. We wore ourselves out and went back to the campsite for supper. I cooked this night. I made rice, beans, broccoli, and tomatoes. It was delicious, and I was super hungry so was glad to have more than just snacks. But then it was time to clean up. I was tired, most our gear was wet, and I really didn’t want to wash dishes. But I did, then we headed to bed. Ella slept with me and kept me cozy in the cold night’s air. It was 36 F again that night.

We woke up, walked, had coffee, and broke camp. Everything was still wet from the day before’s rain though, so I strung up some clotheslines between the trees to dry out our gear. It took much longer to break camp since we had all the ground gear – the tarp, the tents, the flies, the carry cases, the sleeping bag and mat, all had to be cleaned, dried and carefully rolled, to make sure it’s useful for the next time it’s needed.

Ella and I drove to Montgomery because I had some business to finish up regarding the sale of my father’s house and estate. I dropped Ella off to be boarded, and I went on to a hotel for a hot shower and to do some laundry. The next morning, I stopped by the house to see how the estate sale staging was coming along, then picked up Ella and headed off to New Orleans.

I was scheduled to meetup with some online forum friends in New Orleans and had scheduled a funky campsite using the Hipcamp app. My trip into NO was already remarkable because I was traveling through a really industrial and not-very-well-kept part of the city. I knew I was close because I was only minutes away according to my GPS, but I couldn’t believe there was actually a campsite in this part of town. It definitely didn’t look safe. Or clean. Or campsite-ish. The roads weren’t marked very well, not to mention they were in horrible shape, maybe left over from Katrina or other massive amounts of flood waters that this town sees year after year. I was passing by parts of town that were literal dump-sites. Under an overpass there were sofas and mattresses, bags of trash and tons of debris, just toppled from the heights above. Was this really where I was staying? If so, I would turn around and stay in a hotel in a heartbeat. I kept going.

I came up to a blue-painted steel bridge of sorts with a stop light. It really didn’t look like it went anywhere. I’m embarrassed that I couldn’t figure it out, but the whole scenario just seemed surreal. I wasn’t even sure I was on a legitimate road since there was a red light with no cross-traffic, and I was the only one around. So odd. I wondered if I should back up and backtrack, maybe I had misread the GPS. Soon enough, some traffic started to back up behind me and I was relieved to figure this was a legitimate passage, and I wasn’t waiting at some perpetual twilight zone red light. Then, as if to answer all my questions, a barge appeared on the river crossing under the bridge, which as I looked closer, was raised for passage. It wasn’t like the draw bridges that are raised on hinges forming an A – the only type I’m familiar with – but the whole center span of the bridge was elevated using an enormous pully system. Once the barge passed, the bridge lowered. It took a very long time.

Once across the river, I was only a mile away from my campsite. I thought the landscape would surely change and open up to a normal camping area. It did not. GPS directed me through a neighborhood, a kitschy one at that, but definitely not a camping area. I arrived at the destination, a corner lot fenced in by a brightly painted, fanciful fence – sky blue and purple with a yellow sun, a pink cartoon pig, and a sign that read “clothing optional beyond this point.”

I called the camp director, James, and he said he’d be there in about 20 minutes, just go in and make myself at home. I opened the double gate and was greeted by a cute pit bull who immediately tried to mount Ella. She was not pleased. A fella named Jacques then greeted me. He was the dog’s owner and lived on the property, which as it turns out is a commune of sorts. There is a home on stilts (because river) and several campers and sheds within eyeshot. There’s an overgrown garden and a carport with tons of outdoor gear – kayaks, skiffs, bicycles, motorcycles, and all the spare parts to match. There is an outhouse painted purple (for Number 2 only; find anywhere you can on the property for Number 1). The shower is by the chicken coop and is an outdoor wooden shed with an attached hose pipe. There is artistic flair everywhere.

I knew I liked the place right away. The vibe was cool. The artwork was funky. Jacques was who you imagine in this scenario. He was tall and thin, maybe creole looking, tattooed and pierced, with long green braids and painted nails. Effeminate, trusting, kind. He showed me around, and I set up my roof top tent in the driveway.

The camp director was the homeowner, and I never got a feel for what he did or who he was. He made friends easily, I know that. In the 20 minutes I waited for him, five different people came looking for him. I was pretty sure he was a dealer, but maybe not. All the folks were on bikes or had outdoor gear in their car. One fella said he would wait for him, so I struck up a convo with him. He said he was in the Coast Guard, just recently stationed in NO. He met James the night before and James invited him to come chill by the campfire.

That night, I spent the evening with my friends in NO and left Ella in the care of James and company. She spent the night by the fire ring with her new friends, scarfing bits of kielbasa tossed her way. I didn’t stay more than one night there, so my curiosity about James, Jacques, the numerous other campers, and motley crew of acquaintances was never satisfied. I’ll go back though, if given the opportunity. It was way fun.

When I got back to the campsite after the night with my friends, Ella was stuck in the overgrown garden. She had wrapped her tether around every upright, dead stick she could and was crouched amid the sharp, broken, brown vegetation, stuck and unable to move. Poor baby. She had scratched her eye on something and had a big ol’ shiner. She was miserable.  As soon as I freed her, she ran to her side of the car. I opened the door, and she jumped in and slept inside the car that night, her safe place. She was much happier in the morning.

The following morning, we folded up and headed out. The night was so muggy, warm, and humid, that the fly of my RTT sweated so much it looked like rain. I didn’t have time to let it dry out, so I put it away wet. Really wet.

I drove to Galveston, TX, about 5-6 hours or so. Free camping is permitted on the beach on Bolivar Peninsula. On Sunday when I got there, there were quite a few campers and RVs from the weekend. By Monday morning they had pretty much disappeared, and by Tuesday campers were sparse. They started to show back up for the Thanksgiving holiday, though.

Bolivar Peninsula is great. There aren’t many homes nearby and you can drive right on the beach. The sand is packed tightly and there is just enough room before the dunes to create a really nice, wide, dispersed space for a campsite. There are latrines on the beach, which I normally would steer clear of, but since there was no privacy, I had to use them. People were pretty respectful to keep them as tidy as could be.

Camping on the beach is a different animal altogether, and I spent 3-4 days there. Once I found the spot I wanted to setup camp, I opened my RTT and let it dry in the gulf breeze. There was a continuous breeze, sometimes downright blustery, the whole time I was there. It was pretty cool too. There was a big storm that came through the first night, and the wind shook the tent and car and made a wild racket. I didn’t get much sleep at all that night. Ella decided her favorite place to sleep while camping is in the car, and after the night at the horse camp, I agree. She is much happier and warmer on her bed in the backseat. I am much happier when she isn’t barking at and chasing every moving thing in the middle of the night.

Ella and I spent our time at the beach walking for miles along the coastline. I never did any cooking, not even coffee, because of the wind. Listening to waves and watching the surf have hypnotic, relaxing effects. The sunsets and sunrises were very peaceful. Families would come and go, fishing, playing in the water, building sandcastles. The sea birds were a constant force of motion, trotting in and out with the waves, diving for fish, and teasing each other. Pelicans flew overhead. Occasionally a heron would join the fun.

A couple, Vipool and Sarah, introduced themselves while on a walk. I visited them several times over the next several days. She was very knowledgeable about social media, vlogging, YouTube and SEO. She had a lot of insight into how I should go about my videos. They had decided to do what so many have done during the pandemic – sell everything and hit the road. They restored a vintage camper and now spend their days working right on the beach, or anywhere else they want to go! They were super interesting and a lot of fun to visit with.

The guys camping next to me were both down on their luck and had randomly come across each other there at the beach. One had lots of food but no way to cook it; the other had all the cooking gear but no food. Neither had any money until their next paycheck so they pooled their resources and setup camp together, strangers bonding through adversity. They had an ingenious way to build a fire in the wind though. They dug out an embankment in the sand with a deep pocket and high sides and found some driftwood to burn. They were able to keep a fire going, which seemed miraculous to me.

Camping on the beach has its charms but also has its detractions. The sand, wind, cold, sand, and sand get old after a while. All-in-all though, breaking camp wasn’t nearly as much of a bummer as I thought it would be. I used a brush to clean all the sand I could off everything, and because it was so windy, I hadn’t unpacked much gear. On Weds morning, I packed up and set off for an Airbnb in Fredericksburg, TX, a seven-hour drive or so. Ella and I got there around 4 pm with just time enough to shower and relax with a glass of wine before my family joined me for the Thanksgiving holiday.

I felt triumphant after this several-week-long camping episode. I was confident I had the resources and skills to make my National Park dream trip work. Look out, world, here we come!

Welcome to Sue and Ella See America!