Filled Coco's Vacation Food Delivery Device and told her I was sorry. She didn't look up. Dean is supposed to check up on her every few days. I hope she notices.
Trailer docking successful. Trailer backing-up-out-of-the-cul-de-sac affirmative. Go! Go! Go!
We roll through Portland. We roll through Salem. When am I going to remember that one crucial item that we forgot to pack?........thinking.....pillows. Pillows! Dammit.
The Captain expertly pilots the MaxFunCan through I-5 traffic. By Cottage Grove, the traffic finally begins to relax, and we relax. The tunes play on. I think Courtney Taylor-Taylor would appreciate the fact that, somewhere in the universe, there is a playlist that includes both the Dandy Warhols and Glen Campbell (okay, just one Glen Campbell song, but it's the only important one, "Wichita Lineman," and I was not particularly sober when I purchased it on iTunes).
Since he knew how much ease it gives me when we have a confirmed reservation, The Captain has made us reservations at a place he found via the World Wide Web called Jackson WellSprings RV Park. It looked very spa-like on the website, with things like natural spring water, whirpool spas and ladies' night on Mondays featuring hot stone massages.
Now that we pull up, the sign looks a little shop-worn. And it seems like there are a lot of hand-painted signs pronouncing things like, "yard sale" and "breathe" at the Community Center where we checked in.
There seems to be a lot of long grey hair, sometimes tamed in ponytails, most of the time not. And flowy cotton clothing. And skin.
The Captain comes back with a smile on his face. "The hot tub is clothing optional."
So if you were wondering where all the hippies went after the sixties were over, we found them.
They live here. On our way into our camp space, it was evident that most of the "campers" here were full-timers. Rock gardens. Patios. Weeds growing out of vehicles. These guys are home. We are the oddballs here.
Not an uncommon feeling for me. A little off-putting for The Captain. He still had his fight-or-flight face on as we backed into our space, next to a four-year long cribbage game played by a grey-pony-tailed neighbor and one of our new neighbors, sporting one tooth, well past the canine dental zone.
We were welcomed by our park host, Mountain, who directed us to an alternate spot, as the first one had been bogarted by a resident's car. Later we were to follow Mountain's example to come up with WellSprings names of our own. The Captain would like heretofor to be known as Victory Moon Dance. I chose Beautyrest Seafoam Dance. We would appreciate you abiding by our wishes in referring to us by our WellSprings names.
I won't sully our earth-hippy vibe here by describing our trip to WalMart (Hey! Don't judge! It's where our uni-toothed neighbor sent us, and it turned out to be the only place that sold housewares anywhere near Ashland!). Just suffice it to say that what you see on the blog "People of Walmart" is not an exaggeration. We purchased pillows.
Once we returned, we made hamburgers in the MaxFunCan and went for a walk. We took these pictures.
Oh, yes, the adventure has effing BEGUN, mofos.