Second day at Lee’s Ferry campground . . .
I suppose I should keep up appearances since I’m in a campground with people in it. It’s 6:15 a.m. and the crew needs to be walked. Oh, what the heck. I’ll just pull on a pair of pants under this nightshirt.
Usually this early in the morning Bridget and Spike want to get their business over with quickly so they can crawl back into bed. Not this morning. Not when I’m in my nightshirt. I can tell they want to make the complete campground loop, and I’m not going to go back to get dressed. Whatever. This is camping.
Up at the other end of the campground, I meet Jim.
He and his wife, Alice, are camped in a Casita. We talk for quite a while, so long that the crew settles down for a rest at my feet.
Jim says, “We’re leaving in a few minutes. We’ve had enough of this heat and wind. It was one hundred yesterday. .. hundred degree heat and hundred mile per hour wind.”
“I think I’ll stay another day and give it time to settle down,” I remark. “I’m hesitant to drive in wind like this.”
“You’ll spend the rest of your life here then. This canyon is always windy.”
I tell Jim my next stop is Jacob’s Lake.
“Oh you’ll like it there. It’s jacket weather.”
Alice comes out and we introduce ourselves. I can see they are all packed and ready to hit the road, so I say goodbye and the crew and I move on. I throw two poop bags (mission accomplished!) in the dumpster. Jim and Alice pull their Casita down to our neighbor’s site. They‘re saying goodbye to Casita friends, Konrad and Lynn. I try to photograph the three Casitas together in spite of an uncooperative morning sun positioned in the wrong place.
Around 8:30 Gaelyn arrives as expected.
We sit inside the BLT, out of the wind. Being fellow bloggers (www.geogypsytraveler.com), we have a lot to talk about. Gaelyn works six months for the Park Service at the North Rim, so we have even more to talk about. She shares information that will help me find my next boondock. I met Gaelyn for the first time when camped south of Congress, Arizona. It’s good to see her again.
Around noon the crew and I hike down the path to the river.
Spike takes a dip, of course, even though the water is very cold. I have a great time taking photos. Spike is a cooperative little model, as usual. Today Bridget doesn’t bother being camera-shy and lets me snap a few of her, too.
Walking the beach, we approach a man and his son. The man has caught a rainbow trout, a little less than 14 inches. It’s his third today. “You aren’t allowed to keep ‘em if they’re over 14 inches. It’s called a slot limit. This one is just right.”
“I’ve never heard of a slot limit before,” I comment.
“It’s so trophy fish can grow. If you catch something big, you have to throw it back.”
This regulation doesn’t seem to be hampering his enjoyment, or that of his son who apparently is in charge of the net. The father pulls the fish out of the net and holds it so I can take a photo.
Walking the beach is so peaceful.
A few people are here, not many. I watch Bridget and Spike investigate like little kids. The wind and the river make the temperature comfortable. I sit on a rock ledge that hangs over the river’s edge and dangle my feet in the water. For about fifteen seconds. It’s like ice!
Lee’s Ferry is a National Park Service campground. The nightly fee is $12, or $6 with Senior Pass. No reservations are taken. There are several pull-throughs and back-ins. They look like they are reasonably level. A few trees. The sites have a picnic table and a curved structure that’s supposed to block the wind. Several sites have a view of the river. The others are near a massive rock formation. Restrooms. No showers. No hook-ups. The boat launch is nearby. This is a popular spot with fly fishermen . . . er, fisherpeople. It’s a photographer’s paradise.