...And the Not-So-Nice Campground

On June 30, we were in Anchorage, Alaska.
Aside from two Wal*Mart parking lots, we found only one campground.
It was Centennial Campground,
run by the city of Anchorage.
At the end of a substantial detour,
we found it.

"You can have any campsite for $20--
tent or RV. $20!
...but not these campsites, they're for RVs."

The campsite we chose was mislabelled,
but the check-in girl can't read the campground map anyway.

"Hey, look! Period tents! 'The Society for Creative Anachronisms'."

Den put up our little tent about 100 feet away
and settled down to read about
Billy Mitchell falling into a river at sixty below.

While planning the next day's trip to Seward,
I began to people-watch:
a long-maned man in a plaid bathrobe with baggy pants tucked into tall, tasseled boots,
a little girl moseying past a sign marked "Slow,"
a man in tights and an embroidered shirt,
a woman in a thin medieval velveteen dress and a dollar-store crown....
We greet them, but there is no response.
An orange-coated woman with run-away hair walks by,
turning around to argue loudly and in great detail.
There is no one behind her.
The thought occurs to me to look at her through the binoculars,
but I decide against it.
I go for a walk instead.

One bathhouse is closed.
The other is filthy.
Thank goodness for Crocs.

There's a man with a truck filled with many gas cans
walking past the "no cutting" sign
with an ax.

A loud-rap-music truck with a keg in the back pulls into a site.
People pile out,
dance for about four minutes,
then get back in and leave.

What are they doing around that dumpster?

This place may be the south end of a black hole going north....

It's almost eleven o'clock,
but still lots of daylight
and there's road noise,
kid noise,
generator noise,
creative noise,
anachronistic noise.
We decide to pack up the tent and sleep in the back of the truck,
which is a great idea,
because by morning it is raining.

We get a quick shower,
find a church,
and make a friend
who invites us to camp in her driveway the next time we come through Anchorage.
We do.

Where was a memorable spot you wouldn't return to?
Sue