Don't Worry, Ma

I left Santa Rosa (SR) on Saturday with nowhere to go. That’s the unromantic side of this Destiny-Finding business.  First a little background. I arrived in SR two weeks ago. I’ve been staying with Ruthe (daughter of Joyce, my good Wichita friend), Mike (Ruthe’s cousin), and their roommate Dave, in their two bed, one bath apartment. Mike’s mother, Diane, is my Jackson Browne contact.  

In two weeks I fly out of Sacramento for Sam’s graduation, so didn’t want to travel too far. I had four potential contacts in the area around SR (Forestville, Middletown, Sebastapol and Willits), all of which were duds.  I could have called, Ann, in Los Altos, who I stayed with in March. Or I could have headed back to Sacramento and stayed with Eric. But, frankly, I craved some time without being a guest in someone’s home.  

After driving away from the apartment of my fine young hosts, I hung around SR for a while, basically avoiding the crushing reality that I didn't know where to go. What should I do? It was getting late and my mind felt like cotton mouth. It's during these times that I'm least able to resist the familiar dark gloom, which was now slithering up from behind. It had more power than the actual sunny day I was sitting in. Having been saturated by “Simpsons” fanatics since Sacramento, I could hear Montgomery Burns’ voice saying, “Ex-cellent!” 

Then a thought poked through: “Get out of Santa Rosa!” So I headed north on Route 101 to Hopland, home of Fetzer winery, but it was closed by the time I got there. I noticed on my atlas a huge lake, about 20 miles to the east, called Clear Lake. Surely there would be a campground. I’d resigned myself to sleeping in the car.

The drive to the lake included vineyards galore followed by a snaky climb and descent over Red Mountain. It was all breathtakingly gorgeous, but I couldn’t fully appreciate it.  First there was the relentless squiggly hairpin turns. Also, I was still distracted by the gnawing notion that I still didn't have a place to sleep.  Finally, every turnout where one could pull over to enjoy the view had signs like "No Overnigt Parking" or "Private Property," which I took personally. 

When I finally got to Clear Lake, I noticed desperation still lurking, but oddly kept at bay. Could it be the beauty that took the edge off? Hmmm, it took that much beauty, like a ton of beauty.

It took two hours to drive almost all the way around the lake. No camping anywhere just little resort towns with homes, motels and docks on every bit of shore.

 Upon further examination of my atlas, I saw a little campground symbol, and realized I wasn’t too far.

If I’d turned right instead of left when I first got to the lake, I would’ve been there two hours ago! By this time it was 8:00 and getting dark. I drove for 15 minutes and was disheartened to find a high dollar resort and spa located in the place the camping symbol indicated. Oh no! Now what was I going to do? I wasn't sure which road I was on; was it the same one that circled the lake? Where did the lake go, it just seemed like woods now.

Suddenly, barely lit by the dimming light, I saw a sign: Clear Lake State Park, ¼ mile. And a camping symbol!!!! I said “thank you” out loud a dozen times.  I pulled into the gate and a very young ranger greeted me with a smile. I asked if I could camp and he said, “Yes you can!”  The price was right, he gave me maps and selected a thoughtful campsite for me at the top of the mountain “because I think the mosquitoes will be bad tonight near the lake.” Thank you, young ranger! From the maps I learned that Clear Lake is the largest natural lake in California. 

The site was exactly what I’d envisioned. My only neighbors were four young women. Think gangsta. Do-rags, sagging basketball shorts, sleeveless teeshirts. They were set up, with their giant tent and their fire and their hot food. I’d been driving for four hours and decided to take a little walk around the loop, which couldn’t have been more than .2 mile. As I passed my neighbors, one called out, “Excuse me!” I did one of those look-behind-me moves, like “is she talking to me?” which was ridiculous because we were the only ones there. “Do you need a flashlight?” I didn’t know how to answer the question. I mean, sure it was getting dark but how hard could it be to stay on a paved road? Did I need a flashlight, uh, I dunno. I sauntered over in my goofey, exhausted, grateful state of mind and stammered something or other and the girl with the do-rag said, “Here, take this, it’s pretty dark out there.” I thanked her and took the light.

I was glad to stretch my legs and noticed a couple of other campers around the loop. One minute into the walk it became pitch black and even on pavement, walking in a circle, that girl was right. I was SO happy to have that light. What an idiot, not understanding darkness. As I approached my car I heard one of the girls call out, “Ma’am?” (Just what a 49 year old woman wants to be called). “Ma’am, do you need some help?” What could she mean by that? I walked over to their campsite, as I was intending to anyway, to return the flashlight. “Are you setting up a tent?” I said no, that I was just crashing in my car. Yeah, "crashing," that should up my cool-cred. I thanked them for the flashlight, handing it back and one of them said, “You can keep it.” “You mean, as a gift??” Which threw them off. “Uh, well, I don’t know about that, but we have five more, and you really need some light. It gets dark.” I said something like it must be obvious that I didn’t know anything about camping (hyuck) yeah, like, uh, new to this whole camping thing (RETARD!). The one with the do-rag explained, “I said to Keshawndra, like, where she going at this time of night? And there’s them mountain lions, you know.” Her friend scolded her, “Shut up, T.J., don’t be scaring her!” I said, “What about bears?” T.J. said, “Nah, th'aint no bears, but you be better off with bears…” “Why?” I said, “Because they kill you quicker?” “No, ‘cause they make a racket so you know they’re comin’. Them mountain lions, you never hear them ‘till they ON you.” “Oh hush, T.J.!” said Keshawndra, “now don’t you listen to her.”  I stammered more pathetic nonsense, adding more thanks for the flashlight. They then all offered to help me with anything I might need, and if I had to go to the bathroom, just feel free to cut across their campsite, for goodness sake, don’t walk clear around the loop.

I appreciated the girls’ offer to cut through their campsite to go to the bathroom, but I wasn’t about to walk anywhere. I was more than happy to squat five feet from my car. But then I wondered if the scent of urine (especially “ma’am” urine) was mountain lion ambrosia.