Trip Date: February 29, 2020
Find this SpotOK, too much time has passed between this trip and my ability to recall many details, and the trip didn’t technically occur on February 29, but how many times can you even do anything on February 29, so I am taking certain liberties with the entry, per usual.
There was a plot to get back to the Mojave in January, but that was thwarted by weather. I don’t recall camping in December, so it has been nearly 3 months since my last confession. I lied twice and thought bad thoughts, and treated my body like an amusement park, but I digress. It was decided to get out for a quicky just to get together and Ken, Kevin, Bill, and myself took the bait. CFW is typically an annual winter ground, it being so close and easy, and offers dispersed camping to get away from the few people that have ever been there at the same time.
I picked Ken up at 10:00. It brought back many memories as it has been a long time since we camped together and an even longer time since we drove together. It seemed for a long time, which is the way it was. He and I have taken many trips together just the 2 of us, in between the bigger trips, just to get out and get together and get right in the head, as much as can be expected. So it was that we again were on a journey together this day. We loaded up casually with no rush or need for hurry. We looked around his pad and the new(ish) kitchen. He showed me his sad backyard where he had worked so hard to make it nice and now the dogs had wrecked havoc on most everything. It was a bummer to see it that way.
We slipped onto the road and I immediately got discombobulated. In my mind, I was going to head up North to 99 then 70, then approach Wheatland from the West. Ken sent me out 80 East and up 65 which was not unfamiliar, but unsettling because I couldn’t recalibrate my mind right. We were yacking away as we passed thru Wheatland and I began to wonder where we were and where my market was. I had looked up the route on Googly and recalled “Big Al’s” Market where I had stopped on previous trips. I intended to get a sammich and beers for the final leg of the journey, but we were now headed West back out into the orchards.
The phone rang and it was Vinny checking in on us. We had a few laughs and he steered us back on course. His wife Edie grew up in these parts and they still have a family home hereabouts, so Vince is very familiar. Back across 65 and onto Main and boom; Big Al’s. It is a great country market with a great deli and meat counter. Provisions acquired, we were again heading out. We passed “Bill’s Place”, a classic old world bar that everyone should go to. I recalled very strange memories of when Kristen, David, and I went there for Jordan’s MMA fight weigh in. Could easily have been an acid trip, but it really did happen. Back on Spenceville Road, between Bear River and Dry Creek, we turned right on Camp Far West road and came up to the bridge. We were astounded at the high water level of the lake, since we weren’t at half the average annual precipitation to date.
At the registration/store, we had a few laughs with the lady and warned her of the coming moronics. She mentioned that the “Overflow” part of the campground where we always go, could be open if we wanted it to be. We half expected her to appear late that night, with a wink and a “say no more”, but if she did appear, Kevin and/or Bill more than occupied her. We drive through the open gate up to the top of the hill to our familiar spot and quickly made it home. A faucet had been left on making a huge mud run down the road, so we earned yet another boy scout special by turning it off.
In our efforts to set up, we quickly realized we were without a few desirables as we expected to be in a regular campsite, so no table, no BBQ, no water jug, etc. Ken called Kevin for backup but he was already enroute. Being experienced campers, and scientists, we were easily able to improvise. Our spot had been used to gather several 55 gallon drums that were upside down surrounding a tree. These drums gave us instant table surfaces and, with 3 good sized rocks to elevate the grill, a BBQ surface as well. Ken had his water cooler that he usually brings for ample washing water, and we were in business. I didn’t have the strength to set up my tent, so we got to sitting and drinking and devouring my sandwich. In no time, Kevin was pulling up and there was much rejoicing.
It was a beautiful day that had to be the 35th consecutive day without rain. No rain is no good, but mid-60 degree days with a slight breeze and clean air is pretty sweet. Ken’s knee had been bothering him so Kevin and I and his dog Daisy headed out for a walk around to the other side of the inlet where Rock Creek comes into the lake. It was a great walk; flat, mellow, beers, and water, and only a few cows to shoo away. It was great to be together and catch up and shoot the breeze. Ken kept an eye on us from afar. We couldn’t stay away too long.
It was soon cocktail time and we got a fire going. We got another fire going on the barrel to light the briquettes and we were off to the races. Fire, cocktails, sunset, intelligent conversation; well cocktails and fire were good. We cooked sausage and chicken if I recall and began to anticipate Bill’s arrival. I felt bad eating all the food I possibly could before Bill arrived, but still made a pig of myself. I was stuffed by the time we saw the rig crest the knoll and roll down to us. There was much rejoicing. As usual, Bill was full of energy and went about unloading and setting up and conversing all at once.
I took the injection of activity to decide not to set up my tent and instead just sprawl out in the bed of the truck. The temps were so nice and we had not noticed any bugs, so I was willing to take the chance. It had been years since I slept out. I had tarp, pad, and bags spread out in no time and was able to assume my position at the fire in no time. Several cocktails later, Ken and Kevin were in bed, presumably in their respective domiciles. Bill and I sat around the fire for some time, enjoying the eve and the short trip, and the simplicity of camping, the proximity of so many decent places to be, and the continued ability for the boys to gather, not as often in big groups, but gatherings nonetheless.
Sleep was good, but I was early and often reminded of how loud and irritating the geese are at CFW. There is a lot of goose and cow shit all over the ground, and some had to be removed to clear our site, but the early morning squawking is a bit much. I slept really well; even though I was awake often enough to enjoy sucking in the clean cool air. I stayed in my bag only half asleep for some time, as first Ken, then Kevin, and eventually Bill arose from their separate and distinct shelters. Ken had coffee going and the boys combined all their skills and effort to deliver me a mug whilst still in my bag. It was an outstanding morning.
We ate and drank and woke up, and decided to amble down a path along the lake and then out to the road. There was a cool old corral and loading pen that was grown over and partially thrashed by a fallen tree. It was very cool to check out and imagine and create stories. The boys are easily entertained. Ken’s knee was flaring up and we were not going to hang too long, so we headed back to camp to pack up and get ready to head. Somehow a few fingers of the brown water were consumed in several festive rounds of farewells. Departing is such sweet sorrow. A short and easy drive home got us back to town in the early afternoon. Even after a short, one night and 2 day trip out and away, it is often very weird driving back into the city and driving thru these massive 8 lane intersections. An adjustment is needed. This is the strangest life I’ve ever lived.
Find this Spot
Camp Far West Reservoir Photo Gallery II
