This morning, Gary and I left Lost Lake, probably for the last time this year. But that doesn't mean the end of camping season.
I drove off first to get to Lake Ottawa, in the Ottawa National Forest, near Iron River, Michigan. Marty, Linda and Brandon, friends from Illinois, were vacating our favorite site, no. 14 and leaving it to us. By the time I got there at 8:30 a.m., they had already left.
To hold the site, I put our payment envelope with pay for seven days in the fee receptacle, put out folding chairs, started a fire in the pit, and waited for Gary and the camper. I sat at the fire, read the last of the books for the adult reading program, and walked around a little bit. Then the rain started, not a deluge, but sprinkles that came and went.
I sat in the car and read some more, eating an orange. By the time he arrived, I was really hungry, but he brought a sandwich from McDonald's. In fact, I didn't have to go through all that trouble. There were few campers at Lake Ottawa, and no one but us in the loop.
Lake Ottawa is the largest of the lakes we visit, 550 acres. It does allow motorized boats, but the lake is so big, they are never much of a nuisance. Our canoe can slip into quiet inlets away from any noise.
We are particularly smitten with the campground hostess, Anita Joy, 80 years young, who has been watching over Lake Ottawa for years. Her site with its trailer is bedecked with flowers, signs, and figurines. Last year, some nosy bureaucrat came and tried to create a stink about her decorations but her faithful fans backed her up and brought even more flowers. It helps that she serves tea and cookies to all comers.
Once Gary was established, I took off for Seymour and home to deal with tomatoes, bills and a sad kitty, who is missing his humans this summer. I will spoil him until Sunday afternoon when I will return to the forest for another week.
Gary expects to keep right on camping until mid-October. Lucky guy. But then he held down the fort when I toured out west. Fair is fair.
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