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| A Local Campground For Local People |
Sunday; waking up with seventy pounds of dog resting on your legs isn't something I'd recommend. She's hot and heavy, which isn't a great combination when you're tying to get some shut-eye.
So, Wheatley on a windy, wet, but warm morning isn't such a bad place to be. The awning was blowing about a bit so that was stowed, but not before putting the patio table and chairs away first. I'm getting better at this camping lark and realised that when I rolled up the awning, copious amounts of water and shredded foliage would drop onto the aforementioned chairs and table. I'm sharp as a tack, me.
People do like to make an early start and even at eight in the morning there was lots of activity with people packing cars and putting stuff away. We tend to take a more leisurely approach and even though we were planning on leaving slightly earlier than usual this weekend, we still had breakfast and ablutions to deal with and no one rushes us on those things.
I don't often use the Towed Haul's shower, on account of there being a limited supply of water and a limited space to store it when used; the campground's showers are normally host to my daily lavatorial routine. However, as we'd abluted at home on the Saturday we had water and tank space a-plenty so into the cubicle I went. Given that it all runs off the little electric pump that works all the water systems on board, the shower gives a remarkably consistent flow. The six gallon water heater seems to be plenty big enough and the little device on the shower head that allows you to interrupt the flow for short periods turns out to be a real water miser, which is good, of course. All in all it's an excellent shower and I'm looking forward to all those full-service campgrounds in the summer when water and waste is plumbed from the outside and more or less limitless!
Breakfast of croissants and jam was dispensed with in short order and we set about "tearing down" the camp. I used the quotes because that's a local term and I always think it sounds a bit destructive; I tend to say "breaking camp", which is a tad more, er, English, don't you think? I'm so refined, as you know. We're getting quite good at tearing down and we were packed, hitched and ready to go in good time. That was until we hit the back of the queue for the dump station. You can't not dump your waste tanks as you mustn't leave poop or old shower water in said tanks otherwise your lovely Airstream starts to smell somewhat agricultural. There were no alternative dumping places nearby so we had to sit and wait. The big issue was the people in front of us who were allowing their dog to travel in their hot and bouncy trailer, and their women who had to travel in a separate vehicle to the men. The women sat in their truck behind their men for about twenty minutes before deciding that they could probably motor off ahead - I'm not sure why it took them so long to decide. The men, or one of the men, was new to camping and didn't negotiate the tight turn into the dump area very well, so his more experienced friend had him backing up towards us (panic!) then getting a better run at it. I guess you have to learn at some point but on a busy Sunday at the poop dump? Still, it was entertaining watching them go through the process, without gloves, which was nice.
So, some forty-five minutes, a few more mossie bites and a slick dump (if you'll excuse the expression) later, we were on our way. Wheatley is a lovely park and we'll be back there before long, I'm sure. We'll have to do something exciting next time, though, just so that I have something to write about. TTFN.
