Most of the campsites at Willard Springs are more than 300 feet from the road.
The crew and I are walking this morning with a purpose. Our mission? To find a new campsite that conforms to Coconino National Forest camping rules and, equally important, that is beautiful.
We see a place near Gail’s rig and Ken’s rig.
No, I’ll have to worry about Spike bothering them. Anyway I want us off by ourselves.
A short walk up the road, we find the perfect spot.
It has the most important features: a level site, sunshine for the panel, shade for sitting outside, a feeling of seclusion, natural beauty, and it’s within 300 feet of the road. There’s a small pond, which is really a ditch full of water. The water isn’t stagnant and birds come and go. It’s pretty, surrounded by pines. Hmmm… maybe I’ll see some wildlife stopping by here for a drink. It occurs to me that there’s a rule against camping near a water source for animals. I think I’m okay here because it’s a temporary collection of water created by recent rain.
As soon as our new camp is set up, I pour a glass of iced tea and put the lounger next to “our” pond.
Three robins are dipping their beaks in the water. At first I suppose they’re getting a drink, but, no, they’re up to something. Are they looking for worms in the water? Soon I get my answer as one of the robins flies to a low pine branch, her beak full of dripping wet, muddy grass. Apparently our pond is a good source for nest-building materials. Already I like it here!
So does Spike, of course.
Bridget likes any place where I am.
A few minutes later Gail comes up the road in her Class A motorhome.
She stops and rolls down her window as I’m waving to her. “I’m not leaving. I’m going into town to do laundry,” she explains. “What’d you do? Move here to be within 300 feet?”
“Yeah. It’s a nice spot. The lane finally dried out enough so I could pull in here.”
Gail’s motorhome’s engine is running so I cut our conversation short.
“Don’t use up your gas talking to me now. Stop by sometime and we’ll talk.”
Gail agrees, of course, rolls up her window, and heads up the road. I take a quick photo.
Motorhomes are nice for many reasons, but I wouldn’t want to drive a big home like that to the laundromat. Oh well, every type rig has its pros and cons.
This afternoon the crew and I motor on down to Munds Park.
I stop at the post office and pick up the two soft harnesses for the crew. Oh, I hope I ordered the right size. As soon as we’re home, I put them on the crew and they fit! . . . well, a little tight on Bridget, but she’s at her fattest right now. Little Bridget, you’re such a girl with your weight fluctuations.
Ken and Scooter come over around four and they both approve of our new campsite.
Ken says, “Gee, it’s nice here,” and Scooter plays in the water. We sit under the pines talking while I peel potatoes. Before we know it the shadows are long. Ken leaves to finish walking Scooter and I take the crew inside for their supper. I open the blinds so I can see our new camp. I think I like this better than our first camp.