Camping on Quindaro

What an exciting couple of weeks I have had. Let's run down the list. Whew!

Memorial weekend we decided to take a float trip down the Niangua river. Beautiful idea in concept, may have worked had we not picked that particular campground, but a total flop in reality.

Hitch #1. We left Friday afternoon for a leisurely drive down to the Ozarks. Word from our friends who have made this trek was a 2 to 2 1/2 hour drive. It took us four hours. Traffic was backed up, stop and go, basically rolling hell for two of those four hours. Yeah, it took us two hours to just get out of the city. We took our dog with us to introduce her to camping. It is that whole "socialization" thing. She is a great puppy, but a puker. Yes, you got it, she was chucking kibble before we got on the open road. Do dogs outgrow motion sickness? hhmmm....

Hitch #2. We finally rolled into NRO campground about 9:30 pm. It was raining. Oh well, no biggie... we asked for a "wet" weekend just by going down the river right? The rain was placed firmly in the neutral column, and the campground was really remote. Well as remote as one can get on Memorial weekend in an over-populated area. As we went down the switchback road I just had a bad vibe. My red flags were aflappin' but I just bit my tongue because Steve wanted to take me down the river in the worst way. Ok. Be a big girl Lori and suck it up. As we pull up to the office to get our "reserved" campspot, we are surrounded by Way Too Intoxicated 20-somethings. (red flag #348) Who knew this was going to be a floating Daytona Beach?

Hitch #3. Reserved camp spot? What???? nope. "Sure there are camp spots left. Just drive around until you find something. Don't go toward the river, but I am sure there is plenty of space behind the store. Besides, there is more grass there." It has been a long time since anyone has just fed us a line of bullshit that wide. Grass? Grey round hard grass in the shape of stones maybe. Ok, ok. We finally found a wide spot on the trail they called a road and threw our tent up in the rain. We looked at each other, passed around the high-fives, and broke out the tequila to celebrate getting out of the city. Neither one of us was mentioning the fact we had left one city full of creature comforts for another city full of rocks and drunks. Real troopers eh?

Hitch #4. No fire. It stopped raining actively, but now we are in a solid forest with the passive rain thing. Not a problem, but a bit on the chilly side when you are edgy to begin with. (come on Uncle Quervo, warm me up) We take the alternate route and join the hoards of drunks. We kept to ourselves, but we promptly getting well rounded after the stress of the drive, ect...

Hitch #5. Neighbors. My neighbors in the apartment complex were not that close. Plus we had solid walls instead of nylon. Well,.... in the inner tent city, drunkeness lead to What? fights. Of course. What would a good camp trip be without fisticuffs? At this point I am thanking my lucky stars I out grew that 20-something bullshit (or maybe just skipped it altogether) years ago. Here's the picture, We are sitting in our damp lawn chairs, pounding down tequila to get warm, and listening to bullies scream out "who is next? You want some of this mutherfucker?" smack smack flump. "Somebody pick him up" laughing "Where's my beer?" Keep in mind this is going on all around us, not to mention throwing gasoline on fires in the middle of tent city. "My fire is bigger than yours!!" Who knew there was such a thing as a pissing contest over campfire size. Meanwhile, we are watching these two poor fools trying to put up their tent with flashlights (batteries failing). They were in the same predicament we were, but they were camping on the extreme edge of a drainage to the river. Can we say please let it stop raining? Empathy got the best of us, and we set out to take our lantern over and extend a neighborly hand. Good concept. Who knew they were just the first of their gang to arrive? Keep that word in mind. (gang)

Hitch #6. More neighbors. Success with the first group led to us feeling pretty damn good about helping these poor stupid children out, and when their friends rolled in with the same thing in mind, we once again extended the welcome pineapple. Ok, if I am old in spirit, so be it, but would someone please tell these idiots about the whole camping experience? Get your own light source. Make sure you are camping in something basically water-proof. Leave your colors at home. Saying hello is not a bad thing. When someone is helping you say fucking THANK YOU! I did my best to warm up the women in the camp because they were not having a damn thing to do with putting up the sleeping facilities. I have made a solid decision in my life. I will take a gang of men over a gang of women any day! I was completely shocked at girls behavior toward me. Talk about frozen souls. Those little girls were the meanest spirited females I have ever met. Needless to say, I went back to helping with tent city.

Hitch #7. Here comes Barney Fife. Imagine all 5'2" of rent-a-cop with the big wad of chew telling these gang-bangers it is time to quiet down. Gutsy little guy. He didn't stay long. I am sure he knew it was a bad plan. At this point, Steve looks at me and we both knew this tent was not going to be up tonight. I went to make the bed out and he followed shortly.

Hitch #8. The air mattress we brought was the twin size instead of the queen size. Ok. No problem. We need some serious snuggle anyway. Would have been pretty cool had the damn thing held air. By the way, still raining.

Hitch #9. Campground rules. No fights. Well that one is out the window. No fireworks. Do roman candles fall under that heading? Saw plenty of those. No firearms. As I am shivering in my damp clothes in my sleeping bag I am just happy fist fighting is the worst that has happened at this point. Then the gunshots start. Then the car alarms start. Then the fights rev up again. By this time Steve is so pissed he is in the car. I am at the point of "lets just get this damn thing over with", trying to sleep off the tequila and all hell breaks loose. Steve is pissed beyond pissed and decided it is time. Time for what I ask? Yes, you got it. We are loading our crap in the car. Wet tent. Flat mattress. Damp sleeping bags. Exhausted german shepard. Did I mention it is now 4 A.M.????

We tore out of that slum-lord hell spitting gravel and screaming at each other out of pure frustration. We fought valiently for 2 hours, calmed down, I of course cried for most of it, then we finally started communicating. He had the same vibe I had when we went into the pit of hell. He went through with it because he thought I wanted to and he wanted to give me my first float trip. I squashed my feelings of camping on Quindaro because I wanted for him to be happy about camping.

Can you imagine???

At least there was no traffic on the way home, and the dog slept through the trip with no kibble chucking. We slept all day, regrouped, dried out everything, washed the sleeping bags and headed off for a wonderful camp experience at Smithville lake. Had the fire, no fights, people quiet and just outdoors for the joy of being outdoors. We still couldn't see stars because we were only 20 minutes from KC, but hey, we had lightening bugs and no gunshots. Good trade.