Late night adrenaline

Bullards Beach State Park

Well the griddle we bought is NOT going to work. That’s what happens when you whim-purchase without knowing the dimensions of your campstove. The holes-that-are-also-handles extended half-way over both burners. We had half hot griddle, half raw flames.

  • Equipment changeout 1: rehome the too-small griddle. MEASURE the stove and shop sensibly for a replacement.

Bill and I both have celiac disease and we’re trying out some new products. The Bob’s Red Mill GF pancake mix was a little sweet but tasty. The weird griddle-campstove mismatch turned out half-raw/half-burned pancakes. Oh well. Put enough butter and syrup on and it goes down fine. It was actually a pretty good match to our second batch of bad percolator coffee with grounds in.

As we packed for this trip, Bill tried to convince me that my big blue speckleware percolator was a bad idea. I had fond memories of percolated camp coffee so in it went. My palate has either become more refined or my memory more vague, likely a combination. That coffee was awful—overboiled, full of grounds and just nasty.

  • Equipment changeout 2: toss the percolator innards, heat water in the lovely blue speckleware pot, and dedicate a French press to Brave Horatio.

Coffee aside, we’re pleased with our planning and feel reasonably well equipped for comfortable camping.

More in-town stuff and fish tacos at Tony’s Crab Shack for lunch (a must-have for us every trip to Bandon). Bill bought a sweat shirt to go with his many Tony’s t-shirts (they’re soft, the neck doesn’t bind, and the design is neat).

Tony’s Cab Shack’s super soft T-shirts are Bill’s favorites.

Dinner at mom and dad’s again (leftover, but yummy spaghetti) and back to our campsite.

Our Canadian neighbors invited us to share their campfire. It was a BIG campfire. We had a great chat. They came from Ontario to Vancouver for a military reassignment. Interesting folks. She’s 13 years older than he is…seem pretty well matched…big-ass motorhome.

All tucked in and drifting off, we were surprised by a soft knocking on the door.


“Mary, it’s mom.”

My phone was losing its charge so I’d turned it off and plugged it into the cabin slot to top up. (I’m notorious for keeping my sound off, phone off, phone elsewhere. It usually doesn’t matter.)

Each time we visited mom and dad, he seemed on a good healing trajectory. Horrible daughter that I am, I wasn’t at all worried as I turned my phone all the way off.

Mom drove all the way into the campground in the middle of the night, found our spot and knocked on our door to let us know they were heading into town and the ER.

OK, we’re awake!

We sent them on their way, dressed quickly, and followed.

Bill and I frequented a wide variety of hospitals on both coasts when our kids were small. (We have medically intense kids.) This was, by far, the smallest ER we’d ever seen. The wall slides back and you walk from the waiting hall into the treatment room. Nice people and dad was fine, just some edema from inactivity. Several hours later we were tucked back in, my phone now on with the volume up.

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