A Test?

After the Energy Vampire and I parted ways, I headed to Sugarloaf Ridge State Park, which is about 15 miles east of Santa Rosa. I shouldn't have been surprised that it was so crowded since it was a Saturday night. But compared to my three recent camping experiences where I was virtually alone, I found it off-putting. Nonetheless I found a fine spot and set up. By the time I was ready to snuggle in, it was about 9 pm, just a click away from my buddy, darkness. I felt good. I had my cozy bedding, a fancy light, a movie, some good food and the temperature was perfect. 

I heard a car stop, then footsteps get closer, a flashlight, and then "Knock knock!" I unzipped my tent window and saw a ranger. She asked me some questions; was I alone and was I disabled. Then she informed me that I was camping in a handicapped site. "So, yeah, you'll have to move. If you want, I could help you. We can throw your things in the back of my truck." I was stunned. Throw my things? My cozy bedding? Tear down everything and put it back up in the dark? Are you kidding? "We could go to 43, or 18 or maybe even 23, I think 23 is open." Those numbers didn't mean anything to me! I'd already driven around the loop twice and chose this spot because I didn't like the other spots. 

I asked her if it was possible to make an exception just this one time. "Oh no, ma'am" (there's that ma'am again), "the other two handicapped sites are taken, and, you know, handicapped people sometimes have wheelchairs, or are missing arms and legs." Missing arms and legs? "This site is specifically suited to those folks." Really? HOW? A supply of prosthetics?? I then said, "How likely is it that someone handicapped is going to arrive this late or later?" She enthusiastically responded, "Oh, you never know since we leave our gates open all the time." 

I declined her offer to throw my stuff in the back of her truck and said I'd take care of it. By this time it was dark. She drove away and I sat there paralyzed for several minutes, imagining spending the next hour packing everything up and setting it back up in a site I don't like, hungry and in the dark. I decided, if I'm packing everything up, I'm leaving. 

I headed to the ranger station to let her know, and unintentionally drove the wrong way down the one-way road. Egads, what rules haven't I broken?  I told her I was leaving and she gave me my money back, as if we were at a customer service counter in broad daylight. 

I was safe that night, albeit exhausted the next day. My friend Zee says that deep truths about ourselves are often found during our "dark nights." That the strength to find happiness comes in overcoming those dark hours. I agree. I had about seven hours to look for some of them deep truths. 

The next day I got a lovely motel room for two nights and found a great deal of happiness in sleep.