Kettle Moraine South
I planned weeks in advance and got approval from the woman in Human Resources (Ms. V) to take a little overnight bike ride to a campground near Dousman, about 40 biking miles west. Left Tuesday midmorning and had clear blue skies, temps in the 60s, a full load of gear, and a tolerable headwind. I rode the trails -- the Hank Aaron to the Oak Leaf to the New Berlin to the Glacial Drumlin. I stopped for tamales in Waukesha, took a longer break in Wales, and, at Waterville Road, followed the hilly country lane to the campground and set up in site #6. I saw just one other person, and my site was passed by just three or four cars in the evening and the next morning.
I texted and called and emailed Ms. V that I had arrived safe and sound -- her sole requirement -- but I was out of range, and I thought, "Well, what can I do? I'm sure it will be fine."
Famous last words.
Site #6
So I ate a freeze-dried meal, went to bed before 8 p.m., and listened to the vice presidential debate with earbuds on a little transistor radio.
In the morning I got up, made oatmeal and packed up. I waited for the weather to warm up a little bit, and, near the campground entry, called Ms. V.
"I've had a great time," I said.
"Where are you?"
"I'm leaving the campground."
"Where?"
"I'm leaving the campground."
"Where are you right now?"
My connection was bad, she said, but it was the fixation on where I was that stuck with me.
When I got home I called her at work, and said again I'd had a great time, no problems.
And she said, "Well, let me tell you about my day."
Now, just so we understand, she's a woman suffering PTSD from my bike crash of last summer. So she and my solo bike trips are not on the best of terms. (Even though she gave me pro-forma approval for this one.) In any event, she was up most of the night, and called Ahna, our daughter, who also disapproves and also was involved in the bike-crash recovery, and I suppose they got a little revved up.
So, by 6:40 a.m., Ms. V was driving to the Southern Kettle Moraine. Ah! the fixation! She went first to the wrong campground, got directions to the right one, and didn't find me, though I was still there. She was certainly one of those few cars that drove by my site in the morning.
I should say that I had cleverly camped in a little wooded thicket, completely screened from the road -- because who wants to be seen from the road?
So she reported to work late, and had to explain it to her boss, and by the time she got home, I had showered and was settling down to rest. In the end, I went and got us take-out to make amends.
Next time I'll bring a GPS.
*
Besides the damage to my relationships, when I got home I couldn't turn this light off and it later burned out, dammit:
No comments:
Post a Comment