Red River Valley Campground

Even with WiFi at Madison Campground, once Sparky was settled, there wasn’t much to do, so I went to bed around 9:30.  Even though it was 38^o F at night, the electric heater kept it warm enough.  I woke up around 3:30 am, and didn’t think I’d go back to sleep.  On this mission, driving and sleeping  were the only productive activities, so I decided to leave for Fargo.

The campground in Fargo didn’t take reservations, so that might not work out.  I took a hot shower, since there may not get another chance for a while.

Along with no campground reservation, I expected a shit-show in Fargo.  Horus is not a practical man and we were picking up his stuff from his ex-girlfriend’s place, so it wouldn’t be simple.

Three hours away, I called Horus to let him know when I’d be in, and he texted the address of the apartment where he was temporarily staying.

By 1:30 pm, I met up with Horus.  He had broken up with the ex, but they were still friendly.  She wouldn’t be available until after 5 pm, so we decided to check out the campground.  I’d prefer to tow the trailer to her house to load up, but setting up camp in daylight was appealing.

The campground looked like the photo above, but with no RV’s, office, grass, people or restrooms.  It was a gravel lot with a few electricity posts.  It looked too shady, so we didn’t stay there.

My cosmopolitan niece had told me that she couldn’t find an open campground, but maybe she was slacking.  She wasn’t.  It was much colder and desolate in Fargo than I had anticipated.  The only campground that nephew Horus and I could find was a Sheyenne Oaks RV park about 45 miles away.  We booked a spot.

Sheyenne Oaks is very nice.  It’s a place where bring their horses to camp.  There are corrals, pines, barns, and little streams.  Sheyenne Oaks looks like this, but with the tree leaves down.   It took two dirt roads to get there, but they had hot showers.  I have no idea what this place costs.

After setting up the camper, we drove to the ex’s apartment.  As we waited for her to arrive, Horus’s Iphone was dying and we didn’t have a cord to charge it, so he used mine to text her.  My phone displayed a “Moisture detected, can’t charge” message, with 9% battery left.  With both phones dead, we waited for the ex.  She arrived about an hour later than we expected.

She seemed nice enough, but everything wasn’t settled.  The ex pointed out that Horus had neglected to bring boxes for his books and belongings.  They also hadn’t decided who gets what, so that was uncomfortable.  I took a milk crate of albums down to my truck and stayed there.

A practical person would have boxed up all of his stuff, and had it staged in one accessible place so we could load it and get out without a departure scene, but this was close to what was anticipated.

On a positive note, Horus didn’t complain about me not helping with the load up and he didn’t insist on telling me about the fraught relationship.

Back at Sheyenne Oaks, Horus arranged the cargo as I ate prison salad. 

On the way, we stopped so Horus could pick up a cable to charge his phone.  Nothing I did with my phone helped. 

It went down to 28^o F, and the electric heater only got the interior up to about 65^o F.  The ex had confiscated the comforter, so Horus had a cold night with only his coat and cotton blanket. 

By 7 am, we were showered and ready to head down to Wisconsin Dells.  This is a nice state park in a resort area, so I’m looking forward to setting up camp and having the next day free to take some hikes with Sparky.

Google says the first leg of the trip is 502 miles and should take less than 8 hours.  I’m skeptical.

With the camper and Sparky, I’m guessing 10 hours, so we were on the road at 6:30 am.  I used to leave for school at 6:30 every morning, so I know it’s not early, but now it feels like 0-dark stupid.

Sparky loves car rides, but I don’t know why.  He usually just sits there and stares at me.  He’s thinking driving can’t be too hard if I can do it.  Since I’ve caved on almost everything else, he knows I will let him drive eventually.  Ten hours in a car is a long time for anyone.

Towing the camper, I find my range at 65 mph is 150 miles.  That gives a little safety margin.  It also gives Sparky a break every few hours.

Sparky pretty much just sleeps.  He and I have the same morning attitude.  Wake up after sunrise, then shamble around for as long as it takes.  Our first stop was the last travel plaza before entering Indiana.  Sparky took a big dump, marked some trees, and reluctantly got back in the truck.

That was around 9 am, so Sparky got a bowl of breakfast.  He didn’t touch it.  For the rest of the trip, he didn’t eat or drink anything.  It’s like he went into hibernation mode.  On our way through Indiana, I had prison salad and a picked egg for lunch, and found it entirely sufficient. 

In Elkhart, Indiana, we passed an RV and Motor Home Museum and Hall of Fame.  I really want to see that.  I’ve been to the Louvre and most the good Smithsonian museums, and they were nice.  A good RV museum would be up there with a museum of flying saucers and jet packs.  Maybe on the way back.  Or a different trip, whatever, I’m going.

I had considered a route that bypassed Chicago, but it was complicated, so I stayed on I-90.  That was a charlie-foxtrot, but no car accidents or wrong turns, so that’s a win.

Madison Campground is not called a resort or park because it’s about the size and shape of a baseball field in the middle of an industrial park.  That’s fine because it’s a 1000 ft off the highway and surrounded by the types of restaurants that people go to for a quick lunch.  Sparky and I took a nice walk around the U-Store-It place next door. 

On the other side of the highway, there is a tourist attraction called the Pink Elephant.  It has a 4.5 star rating, so after setting up camp, we had to check it out.

Sparky still had road-face, so he’s not at his best.  I took some photos that looked like the elephant was pooping him out, but Sparky didn’t think it was very dignified.  He asked me not to post those.

Here is the photo, cropped to remove the pooping context.  From Sparky’s expression, you can see that he remains stoic, but doesn’t understand why we can’t live in our house anymore.

The Madison Campground would be a nice campground for a Soviet Bloc housing complex.  It has all the amenities, but they are like the Pink Elephant.  There is a dog park, but Sparky resented my attempt to get him to play with Mr. Moose in there.  He blamed me for the obstacle course made from pallets and the dog shit that wasn’t picked up.

We went back to the camper and had a quiet night.  Playing fetch in a 16 foot box isn’t easy.  By throwing Mr. Moose on to the little shelf, Sparky had to go into his lair, and jump just right to retrieve his buddy.  , Sparky appreciated my attempts to make it interesting. 

His appetite came back and he ate his daily allotment. 

Prison Salad

After agreeing to go to Fargo to get my nephew Horus,   Extraction Part 1, there was much that could go wrong.

My nephew Horus is a bohemian.  He isn’t necessarily practical and wants this to be an adventure.  I called it an “extraction” to emphasize that my mission is to go to Fargo and return to Ohio with my client and his stuff.  No side trips, sight seeing, linking up with friends or other messing about.  Using pseudo-military terms  was a persuasive tactic.  The extraction would be a little grueling so Horus appreciates the experience.

Being responsible for a bohemian is like being a bodyguard for a celebrity.  Don’t expect the client to be helpful.  Horus is actually my grand-nephew.  His aunt is my cosmopolitan niece.  She should be part of the extraction, so she was given the role of “logistical support”.  Her job was to make our arrangements.

It would be easy to stay in hotels to get a good night’s sleep, but that seems inauthentic.  Niece Cosmo was asked to book campgrounds and investigate Walmarts or other alternatives for spending the night.

Cosmo booked an RV park outside Chicago for my first night.  That is only 300 miles along a 1000 mile trip, so I was a worried that she wasn’t thinking this through.  Also, I was late in researching my route, so she didn’t have much to go on.

Cosmo cancelled the reservation and found an RV park near Madison, Wisconsin.  Almost exactly half-way to Fargo.  She was having trouble finding RV parks that are open so late in the season.  In Fargo, she found an RV park that didn’t take reservations.  That is pretty shaky, so she is looking for alternatives.  On the way home, she booked two nights at Devil’s Lake State Park in Wisconsin.  That looks really nice.  I asked for a free day to rest up and maybe hike around a bit in the Wisconsin Dells.

When I did start researching the trip, I found that temperatures in Fargo have been 20^o F at night.  It’s been 70^o F in Cleveland.  I winterized the camper so we won’t have any fresh water in the tank.

Each leg of the trip is 500 miles.  Google calls that 8 hours.  With the camper, driving speed won’t be above 65 mph and am planning on 10 mpg.  I will need to stop for gas every 2 1/2 hours, which is also good for Sparky getting a break.  More likely that each leg will take 10 hours.

I don’t want to waste time buying food when I stop for gas and four days of eating gas station food would be excruciating.

I will pack a cooler with grapes, picked eggs and honey-roasted peanuts, but that doesn’t seem sufficient.

Sheriff Joe Arpaio in Arizona was once famous for giving prisoners what they needed, rather than what they wanted.  He used to serve “prison loaf”, a bread loaf with baked in vegetables, beans, a little meat and whatever else it took to make it nutritionally complete and convenient, but not necessarily tasty. 

I am making 6 pints of prison salad.  Ham and mozzarella balls for protein, broccoli and cherry tomatoes for fiber and ditalini pasta for carbs.  With Italian dressing, it tastes pretty good. 

My occult nephew called. 

Harry Dresden and Sandman Slim agree that knowing an entity’s true name gives power.  I don’t know if the true name is just somebody’s real name or has something to do with pronouns, so he agreed to be referred to as “nephew Horus”.  Horus is his spirit animal or familiar or some damn thing.  Nephew Horus could explain it, but that might not help.

Nephew Horus is very intelligent¹ .  Having taught AP Physics for 17 years and teaching at a summer camp for genius children, I am skeptical when a colleague would tell me that a particular student is very intelligent.  Early in my career, I was told that a student I’d have the following year, Tim, was very intelligent. 

After I’d had Tim for a year, I told Tim that “everyone says that he is very intelligent, but he might just be weird”.   Ten years later, Tim came back to visit after making a pile of money working for Microsoft and prior to moving to Japan for a new position.  He recalled that conversation, and agreed that he wasn’t smart, just weird.

Nephew Horus directs his intelligence toward the occult and fringe, and away from practical skills.  I have another nephew who is not academically-minded, but has an aptitude for practical skills.  He likes to work and is kind of a hoss, so we’ll call him nephew Horse.

If I had a problem with my house, I’d call nephew Horse since he can fix problems with drywall, plumbing, excavation or concrete.  If my house had a problem with me, I’d call nephew Horus since he can fix problems with hexes, evil spirits or bad juju.

Nephew Horus is currently in Fargo, and wants to return to Ohio after a failed romance.  When he told me that he didn’t have a credit card, I was ready for him to ask for money.  Instead, he asked if I’d consider flying to Fargo, renting a vehicle, and driving home with him.  Expenses would be covered by a third party.  His request was consistent with my retirement plan to be useful to my extended family, so I considered it.

Rather than fly out, this was an opportunity to try a long trip with the camper and Sparky.

My camper is a toy hauler, so has a loading ramp and open floor space.  Along with my truck, all of Horus’s positions could be loaded.  Checking Google Maps, Fargo didn’t look too far.  It’s just on the other side of Lake Superior, a thousand miles from home.  The trip would be all highway with pretty flat terrain.

Footnote:

Intelligent¹ :  In the sense that someone can absorb new knowledge and understand novel concepts.  The kind of thing that is revealed on an ACT or SAT.  Being intelligent doesn’t make someone a better person, wiser or more likely to live a good life.