Colorado and the Perfect Campground

Colorado and Perfect Campground

October 25, 1998

Folks who live in RVs, and who often move from campground to campground, spend considerable time searching maps, the Internet and RV park catalogs for the “perfect campground.”  Of course, there is no such thing as a “perfect campground,” but we search anyway because some are much better than others.  One reason that there is no perfect campground is that no two RVers could agree to the criteria that define their choice.  We all have slightly different preferences.  As a matter of fact, our own notion of the perfect campground changes from day to day.  Some days we wish for a park that will provide all the modern amenities – electricity, water, sewage and yes, even telephone hookups.  We crave access to parks, restaurants, stores, movies and other modern conveniences.  These campgrounds can cost from less than $15 to more than $30 per night.  At other times, our changing moods drive us to solitude, wilderness, and nature.  Then we seek a campground where we can park as far from our neighbor as possible and can hear the sounds of wildlife in the night instead of the sounds of trucks roaring down the interstate.  

Maybe we found the perfect compromise in a park that matched the mood of our day.  The Lake Hasty Recreation Area is a Corps of Engineers park adjacent to the John Martin Reservoir in southeast Colorado.  The dam was constructed back in the late ‘30s and ‘40s as a flood prevention project on the Arkansas River.  We sometimes seek out these Corps parks after we have splurged on full-amenity parks and feel a little guilty for having overspent from our limited budget.  But we also seek them because they are a little closer to “nature.”  As we stopped at the closed booth at the campground entrance, a handwritten sign informed us that after October 15, camping is free.  We looked at each other and smiled.  Today was October 23rd.  We were free to choose any one of many campsites.  Only a handful of other RVs were present, so we had a wide choice of sites from which to choose. Unlike many commercial campgrounds, this park (and many other public parks) provides sites that are well spaced from other campers. Site choices also included shaded sites under large elms, lakeside, or open sites. The sites are wide, long and level and, to top it off, provide 20, 30 and 50 amp electrical hookups.  Expecting that water and electricity would be turned off for the winter, we were pleasantly surprised.  We prefer 50 amps because it can power almost all our electrical appliances at once without overloading the electrical system and cause some breaker to switch. 

After spending the summer in the Rocky Mountains of Canada and the USA, we feel a strong attraction to the plains.  Being able to watch the rays of the sun change the color of a couple of small, stray clouds in the eastern sky from dark pink to white -- as the sun crept up over the horizon -- was a very special treat.  A place where the sky reaches from horizon to horizon with no interference from hills, mountains, smog or forests -- seems to impart a sense of freedom that is difficult to explain.  We are greatly attracted to the diversity of landscapes that we encounter while traveling.  Other than preferring to avoid weather extremes, we seem to be equally content in mountains, desert, seashore, plains, lakes, tropics, and all intermediate areas in between.  

Temporarily parking our RV in a convenient campsite, we decided to search the park for a more favorable one.  Sites adjacent to the lake had no hookups.  It would be difficult to make a connection between the satellite dish and the satellite that hangs up in the southern sky if we camped under the large elm or cottonwood trees.  We wished to avoid a noisy electrical pump in one corner of the campground.  We decided that having so many choices were greatly complicating our decision -- there is no such thing as a perfect campsite either.  Finally, we compromised on one site that had some shade, a view of the lake, and water/electrical hookups.  

A large, dark hawk circled the campground as the sun was setting -- “probably a red-tailed hawk,” I thought.  Through the open window, we could hear honking Canada geese, howling coyotes, and calling sandhill cranes.  Except for a few campground street lights on the other side of the campground, there were few local light sources to interfere with our view of the night sky -- which was clear and the stars were very bright.  We found Ursa Major (the big dipper), the north star, Draco and Auriga before our necks became tired and the nighttime chill caused us to seek the warmth of the RV -- we left the other constellations for a warmer night.  We promised ourselves (for about the hundredth time) that someday we are going to learn to identify all those constellations.  Somehow, we always seem to put off learning about constellations, rocks, and minerals.  We seem to have a greater affinity for living things -- animals and plants.  We find time to go birding, to watch other kinds of wildlife, or to identify trees and flowers.  Rock and constellation-watching require greater motivation.

The next morning, we found ourselves perched on a rocky, lakeside overlook, watching ducks.  The full sunlight -- which warmed us from the morning chill -- was at our backs, clearly revealing the colors and details of the many ducks dabbling and diving below.  We quickly identified the mallards, coots, pintails and eared grebes.  But for some reason, we were slow to identify the most abundant ducks on the lake.  They were very nervous – frequently flying and landing for no apparent reason.  We looked in vain for a peregrine falcon that might be scaring them.  The ducks flew in flocks that resembled pigeons while flashing large white spots on the upper wings.  The males were very colorful with white foreheads and caps bordered by bright green eye-stripes, rufous breasts and sides, black tails and white bellies.  They were familiar birds, but the name, “American widgeon” escaped us for a while.  They ignored the northern harrier hawks that flew over the lake, but any slight movement by humans caused them to take flight.  Since we were the only humans for miles, we must have been partially responsible for their nervousness.  But they would soon drift back in pairs or small flocks.  It was fun watching them circle the lake several times before deciding that it was safe enough to land.  Instead of coming in low for a landing like an airplane or Canada goose, they came in 20 to 50 feet above the lake and then plopped down onto the lake surface like a helicopter.  

We also observed the behavior of a pair of sharp-shinned hawks playing in the salt cedars.  We wondered if we might see one of these agile flyers chase and capture a small bird.  There were lots of white-crowned sparrows in the area, but the hawks were apparently satiated.  They often perched on bare limbs, giving us a great, close-up view so that we felt fairly confident in the identification.  The smaller head and squarer tail distinguish them from other accipiter hawks.  A red-tailed hawk soared from a distance.  The simultaneous appearance of a black-billed magpie and a roadrunner gave us the sense that this is an area where a bird of the mountains (magpie) is equally at home with a bird of the desert (Roadrunner).  An osprey dipped precariously close to the water as it labored to carry a large fish to a tree stump out in the lake, where it could rip into the flesh of the still-struggling fish.  Several flocks of sandhill cranes flew overhead in large V-shaped formations.  I thought of friends and relatives who would be happy to be there with us -- nieces, Patti and Sally Ross, sister Ruth, Aunt Mary, my deceased brother, Bruce and his first wife Beebe, my mother, etc.  Nothing really new or greatly exciting, just the joy of becoming reacquainted with old wildlife friends on a beautiful, fall morning.

Later in the day, we found the ruts left from the old Santa Fe Trail that runs through the hills beside the reservoir.  Scenes from the dramatic, old TV series, “Wagon Train” flitted through my mind.  Visions of Indian attacks, small graves, swollen streams and blizzards filled my imagination.  A well-developed, four-mile, hiking trail circles through the historic and scenic spots around the campground.  At one point it passes by the Red Shin Mound – a mound with a sandstone caprock that slows its erosion.  It is thought that this mound was once a favored place for Indian ceremonies.  Wishing to sense the feel of an Indian on this mound a few hundred years ago, I climbed to the top, spread my arms and looked to the sky.  So if I were an Indian, would I have been a chief, a warrior, a great hunter while standing on this rock overlooking a valley full of bison?  No!  I think I would have been a 10-year-old, Indian boy in a loincloth, dreaming of greatness.  My cousin, Jack would interpret these visions as evidence of some sort of spirituality.  Actually, I am a little allergic to the word cause I can’t identify with “spirits.”  But I do seem to dream as much as the next guy and enjoy a fairly active imagination.  

Anyway, Lake Hasty has given us a renewed sense of our kinship with nature, the universe, culture, family and history.  The weather was great and the phone did not ring.  For a few days, we did not even suffer Internet withdrawal symptoms.  What more could we ask of a park?  At least for the last couple of days, the Lake Hasty Recreation Campground gets our vote for the “perfect campground.”

 

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