5.28

early morning at the campground.  the birds have been calling for awhile now, the doves dominating the scene. and the great tailed grackle making a variety of noises.  people are slowly begining to stir.  quietly.  morning breeze, just like the beech.  one can feel the heat of the sun coming on.  new neighbors moving in, setting up, soft voices.

much better than yesterday  and the night before when two trailers rolled in late, around 8pm, set up and started the party.  music blaring like no one else in the world existed.  and modulating loud then turned down then loud then silence then loud again.  on and on till quiet time at 10, which fortunately they adhered to.  at least music-wise.  but a group of men stayed up the entire night talking loudly and laughing and didn't stop till dawn.  the one trailer was quiet, but the were running a generator all night.  they woke up by 6, yelling for the dog, talking and cursing, packing up.  i had fears that they were here for the weekend. fortunately, by the time i came back that afternoon, both trailers had moved on.

i made a mistake in my planning.  i was working to the premise maurice was coming in on saturday.  he's not, he arrives on sunday.  no big deal, except now i have an additional day to kill.  and the hotel where we have sunday reservation is booked full on sat.  so i will spend two more nights here at lake mead.  at least it's inexpensive even if there are few amenities.  or maybe because, eh?

the feeling of impending disaster.  it hovers over me as i lay in the tent, listening to the morning.  it's a feeling of hopelessness, of some issue, some problem coming that i won't be able to deal with.  breathe.  listening to cars and people in trailers i feel small on just my bicycle, just me.  vulnerable.  little problems, like flat tires, become potential walls.  breathe.

the blue of the lake is amazing.  it grabs and shakes me everytime i look at it.  the mountains and hillsides are all shades of brown and tan, there's a touch of deep red highlights, the lowlands are washed out yellows and pale greens, straw.  the sky is a sun bleached blue.  but the lake, cerulean blue, bright and alive with touches of darker and lighter blue for highlights.

in search for meaning, or just something to do, i walked down to the marina, a couple of miles down the road.  there's an incredible lack of signage.  when i finally got there, i found a huge swath of concrete, 4-5 lanes wide heading down the grade to the boat launch.

i don't know what purpose it serves, i don't think there are many ocean liners being launched here.  and it's relatively new, because adjacent to it are a couple lanes of old asphalt, abandoned, starting to be grown over.  within an arcing rock jetty, there are two marinas separated by an old paddle boat dock.  there's no road at the bottom connecting the three.  it's even difficult to walk between them.  yet, i found out later that all 3 are privately owned and operated by the same company.  like any good bear, i passed up the first marina and went to the second to see what i could.  no signage, just "lake mead marina".  walked the walkway over the water to the office complex and lo an' behold: a gift shop, bathrooms, restaurant and floating deck out the back side. 

 can't say this heat makes me feel like eating, but i had 3 ice teas 

and a piece of coffee cake.  quite beautful with a decent breeze blowing steady.  spent quite awhile there taking photos, texting family and talking to amy.  they don't take amex, but they do have dinner, burger and fries, so i may head back later.  (i didn't.)  i'm sitting in my chair, thank you karen, in the shade, reading alice in wonderland and writing

we are all cocktails, a mixture of components.  some of us stirred, some shaken.  some need a little ice, others best taken neat.  a little garnish helps some.

i was awaken from my nap by my neighbors inviting me over for chicken tacos.  greg and linda are 67 & 69 respectively.  retired, from milwaukee, wisconsin.

they have a daughter living in las vegas, but that's not why they're here. she's vacationing in charleston this weekend.  they just sold their house, officially nomads.  as a matter of fact, they're trying to figure out where and how to establish a permanent address for social security checks to go to.  they've bought a 27' trailer and need to buy a truck to tow it.  in the meantime, they'll continue camping in their roughly 8 x 10 tent, driving a small suv.

i've been doing some research on tents during the trip.  they used to have a bigger tent, but like the women's at the koa in holbrook, az, it was too big.  too hard to manage.  they like this size.  we talked about the many places they've traveled, people they met.  talked 'til dark, when i left them alone.